"Elena."
His voice was firm, carrying the weight of a decision already made. Elena looked up from the book she'd been pretending to read on the couch, her stomach tightening at the way Alexander stood in the doorway, calm and collected, but with that unshakable edge of command in his eyes.
"We move tonight," he said.
She blinked. "Move? What do you mean?"
"There's a charity gala downtown. My PR team has been briefed. The press will be there. We'll attend together."
The book slipped from her lap. "Tonight? You didn't even ask me if I wanted to go."
"This isn't about what you want, Elena." His tone was even, almost too calm. "It's about what we need to do before Adrian and Vivian get the chance to paint me as a man who toys with women. If we go public first, we control the story."
Her throat went dry. "Control the story? By making me your—" she stumbled over the word, "—mistress?"
A faint smile ghosted across his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "By making sure the world believes what I want them to believe. You'll stand by my side tonight, and everyone will see us together."
Elena shot up from the couch, nerves sparking through her. "Alex, this isn't as easy as you think it is for me. This is my life. Do you know what people will say about me? What they'll think?"
"They'll think what I want them to think," he replied, stepping closer, his gaze steady on hers. "That's the point. This isn't about convenience, it's strategy. Adrian and Vivian won't hesitate to use you against me. But, I'm two steps ahead of them now."
Her pulse pounded, half from anger, half from something she didn't want to name.
His eyes softened just enough to unsettle her.
Elena turned away, clutching her arms around herself. She wanted to scream, but instead she found her voice lowering to a reluctant murmur. "Fine. I'll do it." For the first time, his lips curved in something close to a smile. He leaned in, his voice low and quiet, brushing dangerously close to something else entirely.
"The stylist will be here in an hour," he said crisply. "Be ready."
And just like that, he walked out, his phone already to his ear, his voice switching back to sharp commands.
Elena sank back onto the couch, her hands trembling. She'd agreed. She was in. But deep down, a terrifying question gnawed at her—
Did she really accept to act for the public's sake… or slowly becoming part of Alexander's private war in ways she couldn't undo?