My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

chapter 6 (edited chapter)

Fiona's Pov

What was I thinking agreeing to that ridiculous deal? I was regretting making a hasty decision out of anger because as I stared at myself in my bedroom mirror I realized that Mr fox's only purpose for agreeing to our deal this is to cause me shame

He'd had delivered to my house a box that contained a note with his private number, a pair of shoes and blood red skimpy dress that clung to every darn curve that I had! The old Fiona, that is, me before I gave myself to God would have had no problem with this dress Chapter 6
**Fiona's POV**

What was I thinking agreeing to that ridiculous deal? Regret gnawed at me as I stared at my reflection in the bedroom mirror. Samuel Fox’s only intention behind that deal was clearly to humiliate me.

He had sent over a box containing a note with his private number, a pair of shoes, and a blood-red dress that clung to every curve I had. The old Fiona—the one before I found faith and embraced a more modest life—would have relished wearing this dress. Back then, I thrived on luxury, and a dress like this, with its exorbitant price tag, would have been a drop in the bucket.

The shoes were another story. They were stunning, with elegant, modest heels. It was a surprising choice given the scandalous nature of the dress. One might expect sky-high stilettos to match such an outfit, but thankfully, these were much more manageable. I hadn’t worn heels that high in ages, and I could imagine the calamity of stumbling around in them. The thought of embarrassing myself—or worse, breaking a limb—made me appreciate the lower heels.

I took another look in the mirror and sighed deeply. There was no way I could go through with this. The neckline of the dress plunged so low that it barely contained my breasts, and the hemline was scandalously short, barely covering my thighs. The thought of turning around to see the back was unbearable.

Despite my hesitation, I mustered the courage to turn and inspect the back of the dress. The result was even worse than I feared. The dress rode so high on my backside that from behind, I might as well have been wearing a very expensive, very risqué piece of lingerie. It was an extreme analogy, but nothing made sense at the moment.

Was this deal worth losing my dignity? There were other opportunities, other projects. Was proving my competence worth sacrificing my self-respect? After a moment of deep thought, I decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.

I picked up my phone and retrieved Samuel’s number from the note. As I was about to dial, a message from my father popped up:

*Fiona, I don’t know and I honestly don’t care how you managed to convince Mr. Fox to put you back in the deal and also make you his date for MY charity event tonight, but I just want to tell you do not even think of attending. You have no business there. Don’t ruin this for me, your dear dad. One more thing, since this is the only logical explanation I can come up with for Mr. Fox’s sudden change of heart, I just want to chip in that if you’ve reverted to your “charming ways,” please let your dear daddy know because I’ve recently had some clients who are proving difficult and would like your services in paving the way.

P.S: I’m being serious, Fiona. Stay at home. THAT’S AN ORDER!!!*

The audacity! My father had managed to insult me and order me around in one message. The nerve of him to suggest I was a “charming” anything, or worse, a call girl. I was beyond infuriated.

Well, one thing was certain: I was going to that event, even if I had to go dressed as a maid, a harlot, or a lunatic. I was livid beyond reason, and no amount of rational thought could deter me now.

I returned to dressing, deliberately avoiding the mirror. Seeing my reflection would only force me to reconsider, and I had resolved to do something irrational tonight.