The Billionaire's Ex-Wife

False Excitement

The dress to the left is the first dress Alison wore in her flashback, the right one is the one the she wore after.

Alison's POV.

Blake was dedicated. I had to give him that. He was like hawk, sweeping the restaurant, a frown playing on his lips as he watched my every move. I was stupid to even believe that today would be stress-free. He would watch me from the distance as I took a customer's order.

I had felt extremely nervous, tugging unconsciously at my skirt or pressing my palm against my head to flatten out the knots in my hair. The eerie yet familiar sensation was beginning to flood my body.

Self-consciousness.

After I had met Blake my pride had began to crumble. His constant snarls and snappy comments were little help and I found myself doubting my worth. Blake had made it his top priority to remind me how we were definitely not together. How he would never willingly be with someone like me, he had said.

Someone like me.

In his world, I was merely a peasant who he had once stumbled across him. And that infuriated me. I agree that I was not up to his standards. I wasn't rich. I wasn't a millionaire.

But I was human.

I made mistakes. I wasn't perfect.

Yet, the man was so adamant on having someone who was flawless. Someone like him. Someone who could snap their fingers and the money would start pouring out of a golden pot. And so I had begun to compare. I had compared myself to other women. Women who Blake would constantly complement at a dinner parties, eyeing them furtively. Women that he would make him quickly unwrap the hand draped around my waist, sending my a repulsed glare before hurrying off after them.

But what had irritated me the most was that, I could see where he was coming from. They were perfect. Full lips, high cheekbones, flawless complexions and amazing figures where the obvious answer to the men who flocked at their ankles. It was a pity though. Their attitudes tarnished the whole look. Yet, could I blame them? Money was at the fingertips, they had grown accustomed to the ease. However, I did not agree with them on many topics, especially the way they treated the butler or servants. 

- Flashback -

I grinned widely at myself in the mirror, straightening out the dress. Pressing my palm against the fabric, I pushed away the non-existent wrinkles, before sending a quick glance back at glass.

I was wearing a black dress that stuck to me like a second skin, accentuating my curves in a graceful manner. It was mid thing and off the shoulder showing off my collar bone with a certain sensual look. The black heels that I had paired the dress with made sure my tan legs look much longer than they were.

I felt beautiful.

And it was a rare feeling. I didn't miss the side comments that were thrown my way whenever we had dinner with his friends. He would constantly groan about his despair of being with me, muttering how he was cursed. His friends would only remain quiet, throwing me pitiful glances occasionally as the grip on my fork heightened. My head would be bowed, my eyes not moving from the steak laying on the plate, as the familiar stinging sensation in my eyes began to prickle. The unsettling feeling of resement and worthlessness would scratch at my belly, and it took all my will power to not stride out the room. But that would be singing my death sentence. I knew Blake would've hissed at me, spit flying from his mouth, the next day, yelling about my embarrassing behaviour.

I found myself frowning at my reflection, and I shook my head, forcing a weak smile. My attempt was feeble, but as my eyes ran over my body, a stronger smile began to work itself up my lips. I was restless to see his reaction.