I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. The moment my father introduced her, my world tilted off its axis. Isabella Devereaux. My fiancée. The same woman who had left my bed just hours ago without a trace.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Her eyes met mine, unreadable, yet there was something in them—a flicker of amusement, of challenge. The smirk tugging at the corner of her lips was subtle, but I caught it.
She was toying with me.
I took a step forward, my gaze locked onto hers. "A pleasure to meet me, huh?" My voice was low, controlled. Dangerous.
She didn't flinch. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if studying me. "Yes," she said smoothly, her voice carrying not a single ounce of hesitation. "I've heard so much about you, Ashton."
Oh, this was going to be fun.
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough that only she could hear. "That's funny. Because you seemed to know a hell of a lot about me last night."
Her expression didn't change. Not even a flicker of panic, not a single sign that I had caught her.
She smiled—a slow, practiced, infuriatingly calm smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Liar.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to maintain my composure. "Really?" My tone dripped with sarcasm. "Because I seem to recall spending the entire night with a woman who had your exact eyes, your exact lips… your exact voice."
She let out a soft, airy laugh. "Sounds like you had quite the night, Mr. Kingsley."
Mr. Kingsley. Not Ashton. Formal. Distant. Cold.
I narrowed my eyes. "Tell me, Isabella, were you enjoying yourself last night?"
She blinked, her lashes fluttering ever so slightly. A reaction. A small one. But I caught it.
"I don't know what you're implying," she said, voice smooth, unshaken. "But I assure you, I spent last night resting in my hotel room. Alone."
Bullshit.
I clenched my jaw, my patience wearing thin. "You're really going to stand here and lie to my face?"
She sighed, shaking her head with an almost pitying look. "You seem stressed, Ashton. Maybe you should get some rest. Big day ahead, after all."
My blood boiled.
She was pretending. Acting as if I were some delusional idiot imagining things. I didn't know what game she was playing, but I wasn't going to let her win.
Fine. If she wanted to play, I'd play.
I straightened, adjusting my cuffs, forcing my expression into something unreadable. "You're right. I must be mistaken."
Something flickered in her eyes—just for a second. She wasn't expecting me to drop it so easily.
I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. "But don't worry, sweetheart. I'm sure the truth will come out eventually."
She didn't react, but I could feel the tension between us—thick, electric, suffocating.
"Shall we, then?" she said lightly, extending her hand. "I believe we have an engagement to celebrate."
I stared at her hand for a moment before taking it.
Her fingers were cool, delicate—but I knew better.
This woman wasn't delicate. She was a storm disguised as calm waters.
And I was drowning.
---
Later That Night – The First Move
The party dragged on longer than I would have liked. Smiling, shaking hands, pretending to be the perfect engaged couple. Isabella played her role perfectly. She laughed at the right moments, touched my arm subtly, gave the press just enough material to sell the illusion of a happy, willing bride.
But I wasn't fooled.
The second we were alone, the mask would crack.
And I planned to be there when it did.
So I waited.
The moment the last guest left, I excused myself, making my way upstairs. Isabella was ahead of me, walking toward the bedroom she had been assigned.
She must have sensed me behind her because she stopped just as she reached the door.
"You're following me," she said without turning.
I smirked, stepping closer. "Observant."
She exhaled, shaking her head. "What do you want, Ashton?"
I moved closer, caging her against the door. "Answers."
She sighed, looking up at me. "I've already given them to you."
I leaned in, my breath ghosting over her ear. "No, sweetheart. You've given me lies."
She turned her head slightly, her green eyes meeting mine. "What do you think you know?"
Oh, she was good.
I trailed my fingers along her arm, slow, calculated. "I know that you were in my bed last night. I know you left before I woke up. And I know you're standing here, pretending like none of it ever happened."
She didn't move. Didn't flinch. "And?"
I let out a dark chuckle. "And I want to know why."
A beat of silence stretched between us.
Then, she smiled. "Maybe I just wanted to have fun before my life became a contract."
A non-answer. A distraction.
I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Or maybe you have an agenda."
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't deny it.
"Do you?" I pressed, my voice dropping lower.
She studied me for a moment before whispering, "What if I do?"
Something twisted in my chest.
I should have been furious. I should have walked away.
But instead…
I wanted to unravel her.
I wanted to rip apart her carefully constructed walls and see what was hiding underneath.
She stepped back, breaking the tension. "Goodnight, fiancé," she said with a smirk, slipping into her room and
shutting the door behind her.
I stood there for a long moment, my mind spinning.
This wasn't over.
This was just the beginning.