The hours between Adrian's office and the gala passed in a blur. Elena barely remembered the ride home, or how she let Maya rush her into a borrowed evening gown. Everything felt surreal—like she'd been swept into someone else's life, and she couldn't find the exit.
The dress was a deep shade of emerald green, hugging her figure before flowing into a soft train. Maya clasped a pair of simple earrings against her lobes and whispered, "You look like you belong there."
Elena laughed hollowly. "I don't. And we both know it."
Maya gripped her shoulders. "Then make them believe you do."
---
When the car arrived, Adrian was already waiting inside, impeccably dressed in a tailored black tuxedo. His presence filled the space the moment she slid into the leather seat.
His eyes swept over her in one slow, deliberate glance. "You clean up well."
Elena stiffened. "That's the best you can do? Not even a 'you look beautiful'?"
His lips curved faintly, though his tone remained measured. "If I said that, you'd accuse me of manipulation. This way, we both get what we want—honesty."
She wanted to roll her eyes, but instead, she turned to the window. The city lights flickered by, drawing her closer to a night she wasn't ready for.
---
The gala was held in one of the city's grandest hotels—a ballroom glittering with chandeliers, polished marble floors, and a sea of gowns and tuxedos. The air was thick with perfume, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses.
As soon as they entered, conversations faltered. Heads turned. The whispers began.
"Is that Adrian Blake?"
"Who's the girl?"
"She's not from our circles. Look at her dress—beautiful, but not couture."
"An engagement ring? Already?"
Elena felt their eyes like knives against her skin. She wanted to shrink, to disappear. But Adrian's hand found hers, firm and steady, sliding the diamond ring onto her finger with casual precision.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Elena's breath caught as the cool metal tightened around her hand. The ring was heavy, sparkling under the lights—a perfect illusion of love.
Adrian leaned down, his lips brushing just near her ear. "Smile, Elena."
She forced her lips to curve, though her heart thundered.
---
A tall, elegant woman in a silver gown swept toward them, her voice sweet but sharp. "Adrian, darling, you never mentioned a fiancée."
"Now you know," Adrian replied smoothly, his arm tightening around Elena's waist.
The woman's gaze flicked to Elena, her smile thin. "And what do you do, dear?"
The condescension was clear. Elena felt her cheeks burn, but before she could stumble over an answer, Adrian spoke.
"She runs a business. Independently. She doesn't need introductions."
The woman blinked, momentarily disarmed, before forcing a laugh. "How… refreshing."
She drifted away, but the whispers didn't stop. Elena's chest tightened. She wasn't built for this world of polished smiles and veiled insults.
Leaning closer, she whispered fiercely, "I don't belong here."
Adrian's gaze snapped to hers, unreadable but piercing. "You belong wherever I say you do."
The words should have angered her, but the way he said them—low, commanding, protective—sent a strange shiver down her spine.
---
The rest of the evening blurred into introductions, champagne toasts, and endless questions. Adrian never once let go of her hand, his presence a shield against the circling sharks of high society.
But it wasn't until the end of the night, when Elena slipped away for a moment of air, that she overheard the conversation that made her blood run cold.
Two men stood near the terrace, glasses in hand.
"So it's true—Blake's engaged?"
"Engaged, yes. In love? Hardly. Everyone knows he's doing this to keep control of the company. She's just… convenient."
Elena's stomach twisted. Convenient. That's what she was to them. A prop. A strategy.
And maybe, she realized bitterly, that's all she was to Adrian too.
When she returned inside, Adrian caught the shadow on her face. He didn't ask, but his hand brushed hers lightly, a gesture so subtle she almost thought she imagined it.
But it was enough to stir something dangerous in her chest—something she didn't want to feel.
Because for the first time, Elen
a wasn't sure if the fire burning between them was hatred… or something else entirely.