Amelia didn't sleep much the night before. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Adrian's face across that impossibly long dining table, his gray eyes sharp and unreadable, his laugh still echoing in her ears.
By the next morning, she had convinced herself that maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't get worse. She was wrong.
At noon sharp, Katherine, Adrian's assistant, swept into Amelia's room carrying garment bags and a tablet. Katherine was tall, efficient, and intimidatingly stylish in a pencil skirt that probably cost more than Amelia's monthly rent.
"Mr. Kane requires your presence at the Kane Foundation Gala tonight," she said briskly, as though Amelia were already part of the schedule. "We have fittings in thirty minutes. A stylist and makeup artist will be here shortly."
Amelia blinked. "Wait tonight? As in, tonight?"
"Yes," Katherine replied without looking up from her tablet. "It's an annual charity event. Very high-profile. Expect press, shareholders, and half the city's elite. You'll be introduced publicly as Mr. Kane's fiancée."
Amelia's jaw dropped. "Fiancée? Already? We only signed the contract yesterday!"
Katherine's expression didn't waver. "The media doesn't care about timing, Miss Hart. They care about stories. You're the story now. Best get used to it."
Before Amelia could argue, the stylist and makeup team arrived, flooding her room with racks of gowns, brushes, and boxes of jewelry.
Hours later, Amelia hardly recognized herself in the mirror.
Her hair had been styled into loose waves that cascaded over her shoulders, her skin glowing under subtle makeup that made her look polished but not artificial. The gown chosen for her was breathtaking, an emerald green satin dress that hugged her curves and swept to the floor, slit high enough to reveal her leg when she walked. Diamond earrings sparkled at her ears, borrowed but dazzling.
She touched the fabric uncertainly. "This feels… too much."
"It's just enough," Katherine corrected. "You need to look like you belong."
But as Amelia followed her into the living room where Adrian waited, she couldn't help but feel like an impostor.
Adrian stood by the window, adjusting the cufflinks on his black tuxedo. When he turned, his gaze swept over her from head to toe. For a fleeting second, something flickered in his eyessurprise, maybe even admiration before his mask slipped back into place.
"You'll do," he said simply.
Amelia bristled. You'll do? After all those hours of being poked, painted, and dressed like a doll? But before she could fire back, Adrian offered his arm.
"Ready?"
She hesitated, then slipped her hand into his. His arm was solid beneath her touch, his presence steady in a way that both irritated and unsettled her.
"No," she admitted softly.
"Good," he murmured, leading her toward the elevator. "Fear keeps you sharp."
The gala was held in a grand ballroom dripping with chandeliers and gold. Waiters glided through the crowd with trays of champagne, while guests mingled in glittering gowns and tailored suits. Cameras flashed at the entrance as reporters called out questions, their voices blending into a frenzy.
Amelia's heart raced as Adrian guided her down the red carpet. Flashes blinded her, microphones shoved toward them.
"Mr. Kane! Who's the lucky lady?"
"Is this your fiancée?"
"Tell us about the engagement!"
Adrian's grip on her hand tightened, steady and unyielding. He leaned close, his breath brushing her ear. "Smile, Amelia. Or they'll eat you alive."
So she smiled. Even as her cheeks burned and her legs threatened to give out under the cameras' assault, she forced her lips upward and clung to Adrian's side like an anchor.
Inside, the pressure didn't ease. If anything, it grew worse. The ballroom buzzed with whispers as eyes followed them, sharp and assessing.
Amelia tried to breathe, but every gaze felt like a dagger. She could hear the murmurs, not subtle enough to be missed.
"Where did he find her?"
"Doesn't look like old money."
"She's… pretty, but ordinary."
Adrian must have heard them too, but his face remained unreadable. He led her through the crowd with effortless confidence, shaking hands, exchanging greetings, never once letting go of her hand.
It was both infuriating and comforting.
Then came the real test.
A woman approached them. A tall, blonde, draped in red silk and confidence. Her smile was razor-sharp.
"Adrian," she purred, placing a manicured hand on his arm. "It's been too long."
Amelia stiffened, instinctively stepping back, but Adrian's grip kept her in place.
"Victoria," he said smoothly. "This is Amelia Hart. My fiancée."
Victoria's eyes flicked to Amelia, scanning her like she was a dress on clearance. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Fiancée? My, how sudden. Adrian, you always did move quickly when it suited you."
Amelia forced a polite smile. "Nice to meet you."
Victoria's gaze lingered on her gown, her shoes, her very posture. "Adrian has… particular tastes. I'm sure you'll learn."
The implication was clear. Amelia's cheeks burned, but before she could retort, Adrian's voice cut through the tension like steel.
"Careful, Victoria," he said softly, though his eyes were sharp. "Amelia isn't someone you can underestimate."
Victoria faltered, her smile tightening. She excused herself with a flick of her hair, leaving Amelia stunned.
"You didn't have to defend me," Amelia murmured as they moved away.
"Yes, I did," Adrian replied simply. "You're mine now. And in this world, mine means untouchable."
Her chest tightened at the possessiveness in his voice. It should have angered her. Instead, it sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.
The rest of the evening blurred, the introductions, handshakes, endless glasses of champagne Amelia didn't drink. But through it all, Adrian never let go of her hand.
And when they finally slipped into the car hours later, Amelia leaned back against the seat, exhausted, her gown pooling around her.
Adrian glanced at her, his profile sharp under the city lights.
"You did well," he said at last.
She turned her head toward him, too tired to argue. "I felt like a fraud."
His eyes met hers, steady and piercing. "Everyone in that room is a fraud, Amelia. The only difference is, you were honest about it."
Her breath caught, her heart skipping in her chest.
For the first time, she wondered if there was more to Adrian Kane than the ruthless billionaire mask he wore.