The next morning, Avery woke up to chaos.
The penthouse had transformed overnight into what looked like a military operation center. There were laptops everywhere, security personnel in black suits discussing strategies, and blueprints of the gala venue spread across the dining table.
"What is all this?" Avery asked, walking into the living room in her pajamas.
Marcus looked up from a tablet. "Morning, Mrs. Rathore. We're planning tonight's security detail."
"Tonight?" Avery's eyes widened. "The gala is tonight?"
"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Rathore wanted you to sleep in. You've had a rough few days."
Avery found Rohan in his office, on a video call with what looked like his entire legal team.
"—and I want every conversation recorded. Audio and video. If Arjun so much as breathes a threat, I want evidence," Rohan was saying.
He noticed Avery and held up a finger, asking her to wait.
"What about the restraining order?" one of the lawyers asked.
"The gala is a public event. He has every right to be there as a board member. We can't stop him from attending. But we can make sure he's watched every second." Rohan's voice was cold and calculating. This was CEO Rohan, not the man who'd held her last night.
After he finished the call, he turned to her with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Crisis management mode."
"I can see that. When were you going to tell me the gala is tonight?"
"I'm telling you now." He stood and walked over to her. "I've arranged for a stylist to come at two. She'll bring dresses, jewelry, everything you need."
"Rohan, I don't need—"
"Yes, you do. Tonight, you're not just my wife. You're Mrs. Rathore, co-owner of a billion-dollar company. Arjun needs to see that you belong in my world. That you're not some weakness he can exploit."
Avery crossed her arms. "I'm not a dress-up doll."
"I know. You're a warrior. But even warriors wear armor." He cupped her face gently. "Let me do this for you. Please."
The way he said 'please'—soft, almost vulnerable—made her defenses crumble.
"Fine. But I choose the dress."
"Deal."
At exactly two o'clock, a woman named Celeste arrived with three assistants and enough designer gowns to stock a boutique.
"Mrs. Rathore!" Celeste air-kissed both her cheeks. "I've been dying to meet you! The woman who tamed Rohan Rathore is a legend already."
"I didn't tame anyone," Avery protested.
"Darling, he fired his last three dates for checking their phones during dinner. The fact that you're still here and he looks at you like you hung the moon? That's taming." Celeste winked. "Now, let's make you absolutely stunning."
For the next two hours, Avery tried on dress after dress. Red. Black. Silver. Blue. Some were too revealing. Some were too conservative. Some were just... not her.
Then Celeste brought out an emerald green gown.
"This one," she said confidently. "Trust me."
The moment Avery put it on, she understood. The dress was elegant but fierce. It hugged her curves perfectly, with a high slit that showed just enough leg. The neckline was sophisticated. The back was open, revealing smooth skin.
She looked powerful. Beautiful. Dangerous.
"He's going to lose his mind," Celeste said with satisfaction.
That evening, Avery stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing herself.
Her hair was styled in loose waves. Her makeup was dramatic—smoky eyes, red lips. Diamond earrings Meera had insisted she borrow sparkled at her ears.
She looked like she belonged in Rohan's world.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," she called.
Rohan entered, looking devastatingly handsome in a black tuxedo. But when he saw her, he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Avery..." His voice was hoarse.
"Is it too much?" she asked nervously.
"No. It's... you're..." He seemed to struggle for words. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Heat flooded her cheeks. "You're just saying that."
"I'm not." He walked closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Every man at that gala is going to wish he was me tonight."
"And every woman is going to wish she was me," Avery replied, gesturing to his tux.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this? We can still call it off. Go to the island."
"I'm sure. We end this tonight."
Rohan pulled out a small box. "I have something for you."
Inside was a stunning necklace—emeralds and diamonds that matched her dress perfectly.
"Rohan, this is too much—"
"It was my grandmother's. She left it to me to give to my wife." He fastened it around her neck, his fingers brushing her skin and sending shivers down her spine. "Wear it tonight. For luck. For protection. For us."
Avery touched the necklace, feeling its weight. "What if something goes wrong tonight?"
"Then we handle it. Together." He took her hand. "But Avery, I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
"If things go bad—if Arjun makes a move—you run. You don't try to be a hero. You don't try to protect me. You just run and let Marcus get you to safety."
"I'm not leaving you—"
"Promise me!" His grip tightened. "I can handle anything except losing you. So promise me."
Avery saw the fear in his eyes. The same fear she felt.
"I promise," she lied.
They both knew she was lying. But Rohan didn't call her on it.
Downstairs, Marcus was waiting with the car. A whole security convoy, actually.
As they drove toward the gala, Avery's phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
"Lovely dress. Green is definitely your color. See you soon, Mrs. Rathore. Very soon. - A"
Avery's hand started shaking. She showed Rohan the text.
His jaw clenched. "He's already there. Watching. Waiting."
"Good," Avery said, forcing steel into her voice. "Let him watch. We're ready for him."
But as their car pulled up to the glittering venue, surrounded by cameras and crowds and the elite of Seattle, Avery realized something terrifying.
They weren't walking into a gala.
They were walking into a trap.
And she had no idea who the real prey was.