REGINA MILES- A BILLIONAIRE STORY ( Thomas Miles )

hapter Eight: First Campaign 

The ever–increasing number of fancy dresses spoke volumes of the occasion. The men were dressed in tuxedos and fancy suits, each with mopped–up women adorned in long fancy gowns and expensive. heels dangling from their hands. The soft tunes playing from the piano in one corner of the room. breathed a regal nostalgia into the atmosphere. 

The criteria for the invitation were already a highlight of what was to be expected in the stone–walled edifice, tastefully furnished with the most exquisite set of chandeliers and polished floors. Famous paintings from the godfathers of the art, Pablo Picasso and Leonardo Da Vinci echoed the artistic taste that resonated with this already breath–taking architectural spectacle. 

The waiters and waitresses, all dressed in immaculate white shirts and black trousers served the guests with wide smiles on their faces. They kept their voices low and their greetings courteous and 

curt. 

There I was, rooted in a corner of the room, dressed in a red gown that barely reached my knees. Thomas had threatened to cut Jayden off completely if I did not go on with the campaign. It was just another to use me for his bidding and so I had to play along. With a glass of wine in one hand, I watched in admiration as the rich folk filtered into the hall, each with their partners and plus–ones. Money certainly did not buy happiness, these guys could afford to wear the brightest smiles and pick. the fanciest of outfits as they shared it with the one that they loved. 

Every person had a skeleton in their closet, I noted – mentally, of course. At least I was sure of Thomas. He knew of the many things I had done for the masses anonymously and so used it. Curiosity etched me as I wondered what he would have told them and I needed to know. I poked my nose into 

matters that were of no concern to mine. 

Barely a minute ago, I had eavesdropped on yet another conversation. In my defense, I heard my name this time and naturally, my spy–on–them instinct had kicked in. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, she has such a sweet personality. Look at this, she bought four houses and donated them to the club. Even the chairs and the tables she donated just for this occasion and almost told no one about it,” a chubby elderly woman chirped to the other four women whom she 

chatted with.. 

“Absolutely. I really wish many women of her age and standard would learn from her, “another said. 

Ouch. Now that one stung a bit. I was a lady, not just some girl that anyone would learn from. Anyway, 

I wouldn’t mind. Hearing unsavory details came with the job. 

“She is the face of the club in these parts and as much as she is successful, her humility is just unfounded!” the same lady chirped again. 

Hearing those words carved a smile as they continued their glowing praise of me. They were not so far from the truth, although I could fault some things, she heard them say later on. They were right 

about the table. She had intended to keep it a secret, but the truth, like a good perfume, cannot stay hidden for long. 

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Thomas might have revealed all this for his selfish reasons but one thing he didn’t know was that I was being loved. My IG followers had skyrocketed and became even more famous. The people loved me and not him and just then an Idea poked me. 

Donating the table was an act of paying my dues in the smallest possible way to the club that had given me a life. 

Born and raised there in Old West, Texas, I could have easily been no different from the many other kids around me while growing up or even present in the neighborhood but my life had taken a different path and for good, all thanks to the club; the Boys and Girls Club of Loward County. The club helped me grow as a person after my parents‘ demise. 

“Here comes the couple of the moment.” The blonde lady with the mic announced and Thomas held my hands leading me to the podium. Just that moment Thomas turned towards me kissing me on my lips as I forced out a smile. We walked with our arms locked like a groom leading his bride down the 

aisle. 

“Pull out your cameras and keep those flashes rolling in. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press, let’s welcome Mr and Mrs Miles.” 

I heaved a silent sigh waving and smiling to the many faces. Who had high hopes and elections for the man I held? I was in the mood for the occasion; successful and formally dressed; but unlike the many characters I spotted, I knew I was on my own. 

Thomas was left to give his speech as I walked down the podium. 

“Thank you all for this great opportunity to be here…” 

Seeing him speak with his pretentious look disgusted me. Catherine, his so–called secretary, should be there with him and not me. I moved over to meet a few people and greeted them all with a smile. Most of them knew me and a couple of them had been my clients in the past. I was still in my act of mingling with the other guests when I spotted him tall, handsome, dark–haired, just the way I had seen him before but even more good–looking in his tuxedo that gave him an even excellent shape. He always knew where to be at the right time. 

I glanced quickly at his direction and was convinced that he was headed for me even as I tried not to make it too obvious that I’d seen him approaching so I smiled a little too hard and made myself seem completely engaged in the conversation. I didn’t know what made me feel more nervous. His presence? Or the fact that Thomas would be furious at his appearance. 

My thoughts were soon interrupted by his deep baritone voice. 

“Hey, beautiful.” 

“Hey, What are you doing here?” His presence somehow enlightened my mood as I could not hold back the smile that grew on my lips. 

“Excuse me, ma’am, are you by any chance the Regina Miles?” He acted dramatically with a little whisper in my ears and a light pat on my back. 

Chapter Eight: First Campaign 

37 

I felt my stomach muscles tighten to form butterflies in her stomach. “Yes, I am.” He moved closer. He looked even more handsome staring at him from that close. “Uh… you are?” I quizzed, forcing myself not to give out an iota of my emotion in either words or my body language. 

I watched him laugh, “You look stunning.” 

“Come on Evans. You always have a way of making me smile. What are you doing here?”