Zoey had never seen so many diamonds in one place in her life.
And that was just the driveway.
The Maddox Estate driver pulled the sleek Bentley to a stop at the entrance of London's most exclusive gala hall, a place Zoey had only ever seen in glossy society magazines.
Women in gowns that probably cost more than her entire year's salary climbed out gracefully, jewels winking like captured stars at their throats and ears.
Men in tailored tuxedos accompanied them, every one of them looking like they'd stepped off a magazine cover.
Zoey's fingers curled into the silky fabric of her midnight blue dress as the driver came around to open her door.
She had told herself repeatedly that this was just another performance just a role she was playing in Zayn Maddox's elaborate scheme.
But the moment the cool night air touched her skin and she saw the glittering throng of London's elite moving toward the grand entrance, nerves tightened around her ribs like a corset.
And then she saw him.
Zayn Maddox stood at the top of the marble steps, waiting.
He wore a charcoal gray suit that fit him with dangerous perfection, the kind of tailoring that whispered of power and wealth.
The soft golden lights caught in his hair, making him look almost otherworldly.
His eyes, when they found hers, locked onto her with such intensity that she momentarily forgot how to breathe.
"You clean up well," Zoey said when she finally reached him, attempting casual nonchalance though her pulse was a runaway train.
His gaze swept slowly over her gown, the midnight silk hugging her curves, the neckline just daring enough to make her aware of every inch of exposed skin.
His expression didn't falter, but his eyes dark, sharp and far too observant lingered.
"So do you," he said, his voice like velvet dipped in sin.
Zoey's cheeks heated. She turned away quickly, pretending to fuss with the clutch in her hands.
She couldn't let him see how his words sent a flutter through her stomach, how every compliment from him felt like it was weighted, heavy enough to anchor itself inside her.
The doormen bowed them into the ballroom.
If the outside had been dazzling, the inside was breathtaking.
Chandeliers glittered above like frozen constellations, scattering light across gold leafed columns and polished marble floors.
Waiters in crisp uniforms floated like wraiths, balancing trays of champagne flutes.
A string quartet played softly in the corner, their music weaving through the hum of conversation.
Everywhere Zoey looked, there was wealth, refinement, and the kind of confidence that only came from being born into a world like this.
She instantly felt out of place.
"Remember," Zayn murmured, his lips close to her ear as they moved deeper into the crowd, "we're madly in love. At least for tonight."
Zoey forced a smile. "Do I have to look like I want to kiss you or is glaring enough?"
His smirk was maddeningly smug. "Try both. It suits you."
Before she could argue she noticed someone staring .
Across the room, near a glittering champagne tower, stood a tall man with jet black hair slicked neatly back.
His suit was impeccably cut, but it wasn't his attire that caught her attention. It was his eyes. Dark, unblinking, sharp in a way that felt less like admiration and more like hunting.
When his gaze met hers, something primal stirred in her stomach, a twist of unease that set her nerves alight.
"Friend of yours?" she asked under her breath, her eyes still on him.
Zayn's jaw tightened .
"Family," he said, the word clipped, his tone wrapped in steel.
Zoey frowned. That single word carried weight. Not warmth. Not affection. More like warning.
Before she could press, the man began to move toward them.
Zayn turned to her fully, his hand sliding to her waist. "Smile."
"Why"
He didn't let her finish. Instead, he took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. The touch was fleeting, almost chaste, but the way he lingered, the way his gaze held hers during the gesture, sent her pulse racing. Then he drew her firmly against his side just as the man reached them.
"Lucian," Zayn greeted coolly.
The man's smile was thin, sharp. "Zayn." His eyes flicked immediately to Zoey, scanning her in a way that made her skin prickle. "You've brought company."
"Fiancée," Zayn corrected smoothly.
Lucian's gaze sharpened, lingering on Zoey as though he were peeling back layers to read secrets she didn't even know she had. A cold ripple slid down her spine.
"Interesting choice," Lucian murmured at last.
Zoey's chin lifted. "You talk about me like I'm a handbag."
For a moment, silence stretched, taut and uncomfortable.
Then Lucian's lips curved into a wider smile, though nothing about it was warm. "Careful, little one. You might bite off more than you can chew."
Zoey's pulse quickened, indignation flaring, but before she could retort, Zayn's hand tightened on her waist.
His voice dropped, low and firm, carrying a possessive weight that made her breath catch.
"She's mine."
The words weren't for show. They thrummed with something deeper, darker. Something real.
Lucian's gaze lingered a beat longer before he inclined his head mockingly. "Then take care of your prize, cousin."
He melted back into the glittering crowd, leaving behind a tension that clung like smoke.
Zoey turned to Zayn, her voice low. "What the hell was that?"
"Family drama," he said simply, though the taut line of his jaw told her it was more than that.
She wanted to push, but his eyes warned her not to.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of champagne, whispered gossip, and curious stares.
Everywhere she went, she felt eyes following her not just admiring, but assessing. Like she was a pawn in a chess game she didn't understand.
And then Zayn extended his hand. "Dance with me."
Zoey blinked. "Is this part of the act?"
"Of course," he said, but there was something in his eyes. Something hungry.
The dance floor was bathed in soft gold light. The orchestra shifted to a waltz as Zayn pulled her into his arms.
One hand anchored at her lower back, the other guiding hers, he moved with fluid confidence.
Zoey tried to focus on the steps, but it was impossible with his gaze on her. Intense. Unwavering. Like she was the only person in the room.
"You're staring again," she whispered.
"And you're blushing again," he murmured back, his thumb brushing lightly across the silk at her waist.
Her heart stuttered. The world shrank to the music, the heat of his body, the faint scent of cedar and smoke that clung to him.
He spun her effortlessly, pulling her back into his chest, his breath brushing her ear.
"Relax," he whispered. "I've got you."
It was dangerously easy to believe him.
When the song ended, they didn't step apart right away.
Her hand remained pressed to his chest, his lingered on her back.
For a breathless moment, it felt like the rest of the room had dissolved, leaving just the two of them suspended in golden light.
The applause of the crowd broke the spell.
"We should leave," Zayn said quietly, his voice unreadable.
"Before more of your family decides to size me up?" Zoey tried to joke, though her pulse was still racing.
His smile was humorless. "Something like that."
Outside, the night was cool and sharp, the sky clear enough for stars to glitter faintly above London's haze.
Zoey pulled Zayn's coat tighter around her shoulders, realizing only then he'd draped it over her earlier without a word.
The scent of him clung to the fabric, warm and steady against the chill.
As they waited for the Bentley, she glanced back at the ballroom.
She could still feel Lucian's eyes on her, even though he was nowhere in sight.
Two things crystallized in her mind as Zayn's hand pressed lightly at her back, guiding her into the car.
One: she was far too aware of Zayn Maddox for this to be pretend anymore.
Two: whatever his "family" was, she wasn't imagining the way they looked at her like she was already part of a game whose rules she didn't know.
And she had a sinking feeling the rules were about to change.