CHASE
The restaurant is Dominic's choice. Exclusive. Expensive. Exactly the kind of place paparazzi stake out hoping for celebrity sightings.
Which is the point. This isn't a date. It's a photo op. Performance. Corporate strategy disguised as romance.
Elise sits across from me. Perfect posture. Perfect makeup. Perfect everything. She's been trained for this her entire life. How to sit. How to smile. How to make billionaires want to marry her.
And it's working. On everyone except me.
"You're not eating," Elise says. Voice gentle. Concerned. Playing the caring fiancée.
"Not hungry."
"You need to eat. You look thin. Pale." She reaches across the table. Touches my hand. "Are you feeling alright?"
The curse marks on my wrist pulse under her touch. Cold spreading. Warning.
But I don't pull away. Can't pull away. Cameras are watching. Waiting for signs of trouble. Waiting for cracks in the perfect couple narrative.
