Aria stepped out of the car and into a sea of flashing lights.
The Bennett Foundation Gala was the biggest event of the season where billionaires shook hands, mistresses smiled like wives, and every photo could ruin or make a reputation.
Beside her, Damien exited the sleek black car in a tailored suit that looked like it had been made on his body. His face remained expressionless, but when he turned to her, something in his gaze shifted.
Possessive. Proud. Dangerous.
"You look...acceptable," he murmured as his eyes slid down her crimson silk gown.
She smirked. "Try not to faint from desire."
He offered her his arm.
She took it reluctantly, but gracefully and together they stepped onto the red carpet, a power couple painted in lies.
"Smile," he said through clenched teeth.
"Fake or sincere?"
"Doesn't matter. Just make them believe it."
And so she did.
Cameras snapped as Aria leaned slightly into Damien, her hand resting on his chest, her smile cool and radiant. To the world, they looked in love.
To Aria, they looked like prey and predator.
And she wasn't sure which one she was anymore.
Inside the gala hall, champagne flowed like rivers and violins filled the air with elegance.
Aria clung to her flute and watched the sharks swim around them—politicians, CEOs, socialites—all eager to gossip, to connect, to devour.
"Aria," Damien said, pulling her close. "The investors are watching. You know what to do."
She didn't ask.
She simply placed her hand on his cheek, leaned in, and kissed him.
It was meant to be soft. Polite. Strategic.
But something shifted the moment their lips met.
His hand moved to her waist firm, claiming. Her fingers curled into his lapel. The kiss deepened for a second too long.
And when they broke apart, her heart wasn't steady anymore.
Damien cleared his throat and turned to the approaching crowd.
"Well played," he whispered.
Aria blinked, her voice low. "That wasn't acting."
He didn't respond. He didn't have to.
Later that evening, Damien was deep in conversation with a board member. Aria stood beside him, nodding, smiling, sipping her third glass of water and pretending it was champagne.
Her stomach twisted again.
The pregnancy was beginning to speak.
She slipped away to the restroom, careful not to draw attention. Once inside the marble-lined powder room, she locked the stall and pressed a hand to her stomach.
"You have the worst timing," she whispered.
A soft knock came on the stall door.
"Mrs. Voss?"
It was the assistant hostess.
Aria straightened. "Yes?"
"Your husband is looking for you. Are you alright?"
She fixed her expression in the mirror before stepping out. "Perfect. Just needed to breathe."
Back in the ballroom, Damien was scanning the room until he saw her return. His eyes lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary.
She knew that look.
Suspicion.
She was hiding something, and he was starting to feel it.
As the evening came to a close, Damien placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the exit. "You played your role well," he murmured.
"So did you," she replied. "People love us now. Married and madly in love."
His voice was low. "Let's not confuse the script with reality."
She turned to face him. "And what if the lines start to blur?"
He didn't answer.
He just opened the car door.
That night, silence followed them home.
As soon as they reached the manor, Aria kicked off her heels and went straight to her room, heart pounding.
The kiss had shaken her.
Not because it was fake—but because something about it felt terrifyingly real.
Meanwhile, Damien stood on the balcony of his private study, looking out into the night.
He took a long breath.
There was a fire building inside him and it had a name.
Aria.
The woman he married for convenience was beginning to consume his thoughts.
And that couldn't happen.
Love was a weakness. He'd learned that lesson long ago.
And yet, when she looked at him with that proud defiance in her eyes...
He wanted her.
He just didn't trust her.
Not yet.