42. Belle of the Ball - Part 2

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BELLE OF THE BALL
Part 2

Keyword: Was






"Dakota?" A man muttered a metre away from Taehyung, squinting his eyes to where Diana was disappearing out of sight. "No fucking way..."

Taehyung didn't take any notice at first, he was too busy gearing himself up to confess his infidelity to Satine. It wasn't until the stranger called over to him that his attention was really seized.

"Hello, excuse me, do you know that girl? The little one, brunette... smokin' bod."

Furrowing his brows, he nodded. "Erm, yeah, she's my frie-" No. He was done pretending. "She's my girl."

"Dakota's your girlfriend?" The man appeared concerned, enough to make Taehyung listen.

He looked back over to the staircase, trying to search for another woman the newcomer may have mistaken her for, but the space was only filled with businessmen.

"Dakota? Who the hell is Dakota, bro? Her name's Diana." Taehyung tried to walk away again.

"Erm, I don't think so. I'd recognise that face anywhere. I went to school with her... slept with her too." He tried to wink but failed miserably. There was no way Diana would be foolish enough to sleep with such a weasel.

"Sorry, but who the fuck are you?" To say Taehyung was confused was an understatement.

After running a hand through his gelled blonde locks, he held it out for Taehyung to shake. "Berry Miller, I'm here on behalf of my father. I'm sure you know him, Robert Miller? He invented-"

"Not being funny, mate, I don't give a fuck who your dad is. I'm waiting for a better explanation as to how you know Di?"

Taehyung never had time for the rich; he found them all completely insufferable, and this one was no exception. All he cared about was why this up-tight buffoon was talking shit about his girl.

"Like I said, I went to school with Dakota. She was obsessed with me for a bit, can't say I blame her." He was waiting for Taehyung to join in on the laddy banter, but when he only responded with a blank face Berry's back straightened.

"Where are you from exactly?" Taehyung asked, scrunching his nose up at the guy's accent.

"New Orleans."

"The south?"

"Yes..."

His heart was beating rapidly. Surely this was all a misunderstanding. Diana was Diana, not Dakota, and she was from Boston, not Louisiana.

"Is this some sort of prank? Maybe you're mistaking her for someone that looks similar." Who was he kidding? There was no one like Diana, she was one of a kind.

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