Updated Feb 23, 2026 • ~9 min read
POV: Valencia
The stylist arrives Friday afternoon with six garment bags and an attitude that suggests dressing the nanny-turned-girlfriend is beneath her usual clientele.
“Mr. St. Clair said you needed gala-appropriate attire,” the woman says crisply, laying out dresses across Valencia’s bed. “I brought options in your size. Let’s see what works.”
The dresses are gorgeous.
Floor-length silk, designer labels, price tags Valencia doesn’t want to think about.
The kind of gowns she’s seen in magazines, never imagined wearing.
“This one,” the stylist says, holding up a deep emerald dress with an elegant neckline. “With your skin tone and hair, this will be stunning.”
Valencia tries it on.
Looks at herself in the mirror.
The woman staring back looks like she belongs at society galas.
Looks confident, elegant, exactly the kind of woman who could date a billionaire.
It’s terrifying.
“Perfect,” the stylist declares. “Shoes, jewelry, clutch—I’ll have everything sent up. Hair and makeup team will arrive at 5 PM tomorrow.”
“Hair and makeup team?”
“Mr. St. Clair wants you to look your best. This is your first public appearance as a couple. Impressions matter.”
After the stylist leaves, Valencia sits on her bed staring at the emerald dress.
This is really happening.
Tomorrow night she’s going to a society gala.
As Dominic St. Clair’s girlfriend.
Fake girlfriend, she reminds herself.
But the distinction feels increasingly blurry.
“Val?”
Jules stands in her doorway, eyes wide. “Is that your princess dress?”
Valencia laughs despite her nerves. “Kind of. I’m going to a fancy party with your dad tomorrow.”
“The grown-up kind? With dancing?”
“Probably some dancing, yes.”
Jules comes closer, touches the dress fabric carefully. “You look pretty. Like a real princess.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Are you Daddy’s girlfriend now?”
Valencia’s heart clenches.
They talked about telling Jules the truth, but actually doing it is harder than expected.
“We’re pretending,” Valencia says carefully. “For public events. When we go to parties, we’re going to act like girlfriend and boyfriend. But at home, everything stays the same as always. Does that make sense?”
Jules considers this seriously. “Like pretend play?”
“Exactly like pretend play.”
“Why are you pretending?”
“Because sometimes grown-ups have to do complicated things to make other complicated things easier. But the important part is that nothing changes for you. I’m still here. Your dad’s still here. We still have breakfast and park time and reading. Okay?”
Jules nods. “Okay. Can I help you get ready tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. You can be my special helper.”
That seems to satisfy him.
He runs off to play, leaving Valencia alone with her thoughts and a dress that costs more than three months’ rent.
Saturday arrives too quickly.
The hair and makeup team transforms Valencia’s bedroom into a salon.
Jules watches with fascination as they style Valencia’s hair into an elegant updo, do her makeup in a way that’s dramatic but not overdone.
“You look like a MOVIE STAR!” Jules declares when they’re finished.
Valencia barely recognizes herself.
The woman in the mirror is polished, sophisticated, exactly the kind of partner a billionaire would have.
She puts on the emerald dress, the designer shoes, the borrowed jewelry.
Looks at her reflection.
This is armor, she realizes.
The dress, the hair, the makeup—it’s all armor for walking into a room full of people who will judge her for not being one of them.
For being working class.
For being the nanny.
For dating above her station.
“You look beautiful,” Dominic says from her doorway.
Valencia turns.
Dominic’s in a tuxedo—perfectly tailored, devastatingly handsome, looking every inch the billionaire he is.
They’re matching.
Both armored for battle.
“You clean up nice yourself,” Valencia says, trying for lightness.
“I mean it. You’re stunning.”
Jules bounces between them. “Don’t they look fancy? Like movie stars!”
“We definitely do,” Dominic agrees. “Ready?”
Valencia takes a breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
They leave Jules with Mrs. Chen—who’s staying for the evening, used to this arrangement—and take the car to the museum.
The gala is already in full swing when they arrive.
String quartet, champagne, New York’s elite in their finest.
Valencia’s stomach knots.
Dominic must sense her nerves because he takes her hand. “We don’t have to do this. We can leave right now if you want.”
“No. We have a plan. Let’s stick to it.”
“Okay. Then let’s give them something to talk about.”
They walk in together.
Everyone stares.
Actual, obvious staring as Dominic St. Clair—one of New York’s most eligible billionaires, famously reclusive since his wife’s death—walks in with an unknown woman on his arm.
Valencia can hear the whispers starting.
“Who is she?”
“Is that his new girlfriend?”
“I’ve never seen her at events before.”
“She’s pretty. But who is she?”
Dominic leans close, whispers: “Breathe. I’ve got you.”
His hand is warm in hers.
Steady.
Real.
They circulate.
Dominic introduces her to business associates, art patrons, society figures.
Each time the same line: “This is Valencia Rivera, my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend.
The word gets easier each time he says it.
Starts feeling less fake.
Charlotte Beaumont appears halfway through the evening—beautiful in a white gown, smile sharp as knives.
“Dominic! What a surprise seeing you here. And with a date.”
“Charlotte. You remember Valencia.”
Charlotte’s eyes sweep over Valencia, assessing and dismissing in one glance. “The nanny. How… unconventional.”
“Former nanny,” Dominic corrects smoothly. “Valencia’s transitioning to private educational consulting now.”
News to Valencia, but she doesn’t react.
“How nice,” Charlotte says, voice dripping false sweetness. “And how did this relationship develop? Surely it’s not appropriate to date the help.”
“We developed feelings while working together,” Dominic says calmly. “Decided to explore them. Nothing inappropriate about two adults choosing to date.”
“I’m sure there are those who would disagree. The power dynamic alone—”
“Charlotte, if you’re going to be catty, at least be honest about it. You’re upset I’m not interested in you. That’s fine. But taking it out on Valencia is beneath you.”
Charlotte flushes, stalks away.
Valencia lets out a breath. “That was—”
“Exactly what we expected. Society women protecting territory. Ignore her.”
They’re at the bar getting drinks when Genevieve appears.
Valencia sees her first—elegantly furious, cutting through the crowd with purpose.
“Dominic. A word. Privately.”
“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of Valencia.”
Genevieve’s eyes are ice. “How dare you bring her here. Flaunt this—this inappropriate relationship—in front of everyone.”
“We’re dating. We’re allowed to attend events together.”
“She’s the NANNY—”
“She’s my girlfriend. And you’re making a scene. Do you really want to air family drama at a charity gala?”
Genevieve looks around, realizes people are watching, carefully schools her expression.
“This conversation isn’t over,” she hisses.
“Yes, it is. You threatened Valencia. You tried to pay her off. You attempted to control my personal life. That’s over. I’m dating who I want. Deal with it or don’t, but stop interfering.”
Genevieve leaves.
Stiff-backed, furious, but unable to cause a public scene.
Valencia’s shaking slightly.
“You okay?” Dominic asks quietly.
“Yeah. Just—that was intense.”
“You were perfect. Didn’t react, stayed calm, let me handle it. Perfect.”
The rest of the evening passes in a blur.
More introductions, more whispers, more society judgment.
But Dominic stays beside her the entire time.
Hand on her lower back.
Introducing her proudly.
Defending her when necessary.
Making it clear: Valencia Rivera is his girlfriend, and anyone who has a problem with that can deal with him.
By the end of the night, Valencia’s feet hurt and her face aches from smiling, but they’ve done it.
First public appearance: successful.
Society knows they’re dating.
The narrative is controlled.
The scandal is managed.
In the car heading home, Dominic takes her hand again.
“You were amazing tonight.”
“I was terrified.”
“You didn’t show it. You handled Charlotte, ignored the whispers, stayed calm when my mother confronted us. You were perfect.”
“This is fake,” Valencia reminds him. And herself. “We were playing roles.”
“Were we?”
The question hangs between them.
Because tonight didn’t feel fake.
Dominic introducing her as his girlfriend didn’t feel like pretending.
Holding his hand, standing beside him, being his partner—it all felt natural.
Real.
Right.
“The plan is working,” Valencia says instead of answering. “Society saw us together. Your mother can’t create scandal now. Mission accomplished.”
“Yeah. Mission accomplished.”
But Dominic’s looking at her like mission accomplished is the furthest thing from his mind.
Like tonight was just the beginning.
Like fake dating is already becoming something else.
Back at the penthouse, they check on Jules—fast asleep, Mrs. Chen reading in the living room.
“How was the gala?” Mrs. Chen asks.
“Successful,” Dominic says. “Thank you for staying.”
After Mrs. Chen leaves, Valencia and Dominic stand in the hallway.
Still in their gala attire.
Still playing the roles.
Or maybe not playing anymore.
“Thank you,” Valencia says quietly. “For tonight. For defending me. For making me feel—”
“Feel what?”
“Protected. Like we’re actually a team.”
“We are a team. Fake or real, we’re in this together.”
Fake or real.
The line’s getting blurrier every day.
“Goodnight, Dominic.”
“Goodnight, Valencia.”
She goes to her room, takes off the dress, removes the makeup, lets down her hair.
Returns to being Valencia Rivera, nanny—no, former nanny—no, educational consultant—no, fake girlfriend—
She doesn’t know what she is anymore.
Just knows that tonight felt real.
That standing beside Dominic felt right.
That this fake relationship is starting to feel dangerously like the real thing.
And she doesn’t know if that’s the plan working or the plan getting complicated.
Doesn’t know if blurring the lines is good or dangerous.
Doesn’t know anything except:
She’s falling harder every day.
The fake is becoming real.
And there’s no going back now.
Starting with tonight.
Starting with being introduced as his girlfriend.
Starting with feeling like maybe—just maybe—this could actually work.
Fake dating.
Real feelings.
Impossible situation.
Getting more complicated by the minute.
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