The black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided through the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan like a silent predator. Inside the leather-scented sanctuary of the car, the silence was so heavy it felt tangible. Ava sat as far away from Liam as the wide seat allowed, her fingers twisting the silk of her gown. The diamond earrings felt like lead, pulling at her ears, and the corset of her dress made every breath a conscious effort.
Liam was staring out the window, his profile sharp and unforgiving in the passing streetlights. He looked like the king of a cold, dark world, yet Ava couldn't forget the heat of his hand on her waist just hours ago in the ballroom.
"Stop fidgeting," Liam said without looking at her. His voice was a low vibration that seemed to crawl under her skin. "You're a Moretti now. Morettis don't show nerves. They don't sweat. They don't doubt."
"I'm not a Moretti, Liam," Ava whispered, turning to look at him. "I'm a girl from a studio apartment who is about to lie to the most powerful people in the world. How are you so calm?"
Liam finally turned his head. His icy blue eyes scanned her face, lingering on her lips for a second too long. "Because I decided a long time ago that the world doesn't get to see what I feel. Tonight, you are my extension. If you break, I break. And I never break."
As the car pulled up to the grand museum where the gala was being held, the flashes of a hundred cameras erupted like lightning. Ava shrank back, the blinding white light terrifying her. Suddenly, she felt a large, warm hand cover hers.
Liam leaned in, his face so close his nose brushed her ear. "The moment we step out, the game is real. They will look for a crack in your armor. They will look for the waitress. Don't give her to them."
He squeezed her hand—not a business squeeze, but something grounding. Then, he stepped out of the car. The roar of the crowd and the shout of reporters was deafening. Liam turned back and offered his hand to Ava.
As she took it and stepped out, a hush fell over the crowd for a split second. Ava was breathtaking. The black silk gown moved like water, and her eyes, wide and shimmering with a mix of fear and defiance, captured every lens. Liam immediately pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her waist with a possessive strength that sent a jolt of electricity through her.
"Smile, Ava," he murmured against her hair, his lips ghosting over her skin. "Look at me like I'm the only man in the room."
Ava looked up at him, and for a moment, she didn't have to act. The way the moonlight hit the silver in his hair and the intensity in his gaze made her heart skip a beat. She smiled, a soft, lingering look that made the cameras go into a frenzy.
They walked up the red carpet, Liam's hand never leaving her waist. Every few steps, he would lean down as if whispering a secret, his breath hot against her neck. It looked like the height of romance to the world, but to Ava, it was a dance on a razor's edge.
Inside the grand hall, the air was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and even more expensive perfume. Hundreds of eyes turned toward them.
"Liam, darling!" A high, shrill voice cut through the music.
A woman in her fifties, dripping in emeralds, approached them. It was Sofia Volkov, the wife of Liam's fiercest rival. Her eyes were like a hawk's as they landed on Ava. "So, this is the mystery woman. We were all so shocked. Liam Moretti, the man with a heart of stone, suddenly engaged? And to someone... so undocumented?"
Ava felt her throat tighten. This was it. The first attack.
Liam didn't flinch. He pulled Ava even closer, his thumb tracing a slow, rhythmic circle on her hip. "Some treasures are meant to be kept hidden, Sofia. Ava spent most of her life in Switzerland. She finds New York's... loud nature, quite exhausting. Don't you, darling?"
Ava took a breath, remembering Valeska's voice. Silence is your weapon. "I find that in New York, people speak much but say very little," Ava said, her voice cool and elegant. "In Zurich, we prefer substance over noise."
Sofia's smile stiffened. Liam's grip on Ava's waist tightened, and she could feel the vibration of his low, dark chuckle against her side. "Well said, my love."
As they moved away, Liam leaned down, his lips inches from her ear. "That was perfect. Maybe you're more of a Moretti than I thought."
"Don't get used to it," Ava whispered back, but the way her body leaned into his betrayed her.
The night was just beginning. The music changed to a slow, sultry melody. Liam turned to her, his eyes dark with an unreadable emotion. "They want to see the happy couple dance, Ava. And this time, there are no walls to hide behind. Just me and you, and a thousand eyes watching for a mistake."
He led her to the dance floor. As he took her into his arms, the world around them blurred. The lights, the rivals, the lies—all of it faded. There was only the scent of his cologne, the heat of his body, and the dangerous, forbidden fire burning between them.
As Liam's hand splayed across the small of her back, he pulled her so close that the delicate lace of her gown brushed against the sharp fabric of his tuxedo. The orchestra began a haunting, slow waltz that seemed to vibrate through the very floor. Liam didn't just lead her; he moved as if they were a single entity. Every turn was deliberate, every glide a silent communication. Ava felt the eyes of the elite boring into them, searching for a stumble, a missed beat, or a hint of fraud. But she didn't look at them. She couldn't. Her entire world had narrowed down to the man holding her.
"You're trembling," Liam murmured, his head dipping low so his lips nearly grazed her temple. The scent of him—leather, rain, and a hint of dark chocolate—was overwhelming
"I feel like they can see right through me," Ava whispered, her fingers tightening on his shoulder. "They see the waitress, Liam. They see the lie."
"Look at me, Ava," he commanded, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intimate register. "Don't look at them. Look into my eyes and remember what I told you. In this room, I am your only truth. As long as you are in my arms, nobody can touch you."
He spun her then, a slow, dizzying rotation that made the crystal chandeliers above blur into streaks of white fire. When he pulled her back, he dipped her low, his face hovering just inches above hers. For a moment, the world stopped. The music, the whispers, the cameras—everything vanished. There was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the magnetic pull between them that felt more real than any contract. In that second, Ava saw a flicker of something raw and unprotected in Liam's gaze, a flash of desire that wasn't part of the script. It terrified her, yet she found herself leaning in, drawn to the very fire that threatened to consume her.