The dress didn't fit right. It was too bold, overly sequined, and very Nora.
Rosaline tugged at the neckline, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back looked nothing like the reserved PR executive who usually wore pencil skirts and neutral tones. No, this was someone else. Someone magnetic. Someone reckless.
"This is insane," she muttered. "You can't be serious, Nora."
From across the suite, Nora sprawled on the bed in a silk robe, scrolling through her phone without a hint of guilt. "Relax, Rosie. It's just a gala. Smile, drink some overpriced champagne, and let them believe you're me. You'll be home before midnight."
Rosaline turned, incredulous. "You want me to impersonate you at Conrad Reid's event? The Conrad Reid whose company nearly torpedoed one of my biggest campaigns last year?"
Nora waved a manicured hand. "Oh, please. You PR people and your grudges. Besides, I've already RSVP'd. My name is on the guest list. If I cancel at the last minute, it'll look bad for both of us."
Rosaline opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. She knew that tone, the honeyed persuasion Nora wielded like a weapon. And she knew she'd already lost this battle.
"Fine," she said, snatching the clutch from the vanity. "But when this backfires, you owe me a month's worth of crisis coffee."
Nora smirked. "Deal. Now go. And remember, be dazzling."
The hotel ballroom gleamed like liquid gold. Chandeliers shimmered overhead, scattering light over silk gowns and expensive laughter. Rosaline paused at the entrance, clutching her purse like a lifeline. Her pulse fluttered in her throat.
Just a favor. One night.
She took a steadying breath and stepped into Nora's world.
Eyes turned as she entered, of course, they did. Nora Clarke was a name people remembered: the socialite, the charmer, the woman who never blended into a crowd. Rosaline kept her chin high, her practiced PR smile in place.
A waiter offered her champagne. She accepted, grateful for the distraction, though her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the glass. The bubbles caught the light, soft and deceptive, just like tonight.
Her plan was simple: smile, mingle, make an appearance, then leave before anyone asked too many questions. But fate had a wicked sense of timing.
"Miss Clarke."
The voice came from behind her, low, smooth, confident. Rosaline froze. Slowly, she turned.
Conrad Reid stood only a few feet away.
He was taller than she remembered. The last time she'd seen him, he was behind a conference table, sleeves rolled up, all sharp focus and clipped commands. Now, in a tailored black suit and faint stubble, he looked every inch the man people whispered about, the ruthless CEO, the industry's golden shark.
For a heartbeat, she thought he might recognize her. That flicker of alarm in her chest felt almost physical.
But then, he smiled.
"Nora Clarke," he said, his tone dark with interest. "I didn't think I'd see you here."
She forced a laugh, light and careless. "You didn't?"
"I've heard the name," he said, stepping closer. "Hard not to, in certain circles. You have quite the reputation."
She tilted her head, masking the panic behind Nora's trademark smirk. "Hopefully a good one."
Conrad's smile deepened. "That depends on who you ask."
Rosaline's breath hitched as he offered his hand. She hesitated only a moment before taking it. His palm was warm, his grip confident. A current seemed to pass through her, something sharp and unwelcome.
He leaned in slightly. "I didn't realize the Clarke sisters were so identical. But then, you were always the memorable one."
Her heart stuttered. He knew her sister by reputation, maybe through society pages, not well enough to see through the illusion. Relief flooded her, mixed with guilt.
"Well," she said softly, "I do try."
"Would you?" He nodded toward the dance floor where a waltz had just begun. "Join me?"
Every instinct screamed to refuse. But refusing would raise suspicion. And Nora would have said yes without a second thought.
Rosaline smiled, Nora's smile. "Of course."
The orchestra swelled, and Conrad's hand found her waist. Her pulse fluttered beneath his touch. He moved with effortless precision, guiding her as if he'd done this a thousand times.
"You don't strike me as a woman who enjoys these events," he murmured.
She swallowed hard. "And what kind of woman do I strike you as?"
He met her gaze, eyes dark and unreadable. "One who knows exactly what she's doing. And exactly how dangerous that is."
A chill ran through her, followed by something warmer. The champagne in her hand earlier felt tame compared to the intoxication of this moment: his nearness, his confidence, the way he looked at her as if she were something worth studying.
Rosaline forced herself to laugh lightly. "Dangerous isn't usually my thing."
Conrad's mouth curved. "No?" His hand slid just a fraction lower. "That's a shame."
The words lingered between them, charged, forbidden.
Rosaline's breath caught. This was supposed to be simple: one night, a little pretending, then disappear. But Conrad Reid's attention was like gravity: impossible to ignore, impossible to escape.
When the dance ended, he didn't release her hand immediately. Instead, he leaned close, voice a velvet whisper.
"You look even more stunning in person, Nora. I should've sought you out long ago."
She managed a smile, though her mind spun in person. The words clawed at her conscience. He didn't know who he was really talking to, and yet, the spark in her chest was real. Too real.
Before she could reply, a flash went off. Cameras. Someone had photographed them. Conrad turned slightly, his hand still resting on her back. "Looks like we've just become the headline for tomorrow's society pages," he said with an amused murmur.
Rosaline's stomach twisted. A public photo meant exposure, not just for Nora, but for her.
"I," she started, but the words caught in her throat.
Conrad's smile was slow, confident, and dangerous. "You don't need to look so alarmed. You're safe with me, Nora."
Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Safe. If only he knew how wrong that was.
And as the cameras flashed again, Rosaline realized the lie she'd stepped into wasn't going to end when the music did.