Zara stood in front of the mirror in her fitted black dress, staring at her reflection like it was someone else.
Tonight wasn't just another gala—it was a business dinner with investors, press, and family friends. Ameer's world. One where she was expected to smile and behave, like a prize on his arm.
But after what happened to Rami… she couldn't shake the fear in her chest.
Still, she walked into the ballroom with her chin high, hand wrapped around Ameer's arm.
"You look stunning," he said flatly, not even glancing at her.
Zara didn't respond.
Inside, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and soft music floated in the air. Everyone turned when they entered, admiring, whispering, judging.
They were the perfect power couple.
A perfect illusion.
---
Dinner was served at a long U-shaped table. Zara was seated beside Ameer, directly in the view of cameras and guests.
She felt stiff, trapped between cold elegance and buried secrets.
As conversations floated around them, Ameer leaned in suddenly, whispering just loud enough for her to hear:
"Smile. Everyone's watching."
She forced a polite smile, her fingers curling around her wine glass.
He chuckled low. "You're good at pretending."
Zara turned to him. "Maybe I learned from the best."
A flash of something—was it pride?—flickered in his eyes.
Then, beneath the table… she felt it.
His hand. On her thigh.
Firm. Possessive. Slowly tracing upward.
Zara's breath caught in her throat. She turned to him sharply, eyes wide.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, panic and heat crashing together.
Ameer didn't look at her. He took a sip of his wine, eyes straight ahead, voice low.
"Controlling the narrative."
"You said this marriage was a business deal."
"Exactly. And tonight, you're the proof that I'm in control."
His fingers pressed just a little tighter.
Zara's pulse raced. Every nerve in her body lit up with confusion—anger, heat, embarrassment… something she didn't want to name.
She grabbed his hand under the table, trying to push it away.
He didn't resist—but he didn't move either.
"Stop playing with me," she whispered harshly.
He finally turned his head and looked her dead in the eye. "You started this game, Zara. I'm just playing to win."
---
After dinner, the cameras kept flashing as they posed together. Ameer's hand rested lightly on her lower back, his smile so perfect it made her stomach turn.
But when they stepped into the car afterward, the smile disappeared.
Zara turned to him. "Do you enjoy humiliating me?"
"I enjoy reminding you who holds the power."
She laughed bitterly. "Keep pushing, Ameer. One day, I'll push back."
He leaned in, face inches from hers. "And what happens then, wife?"
Zara didn't answer.
Because in that moment… she didn't know if she wanted to fight him—or kiss him.