The dress wasn't hers.
Sienna stood before the mirror, stiff as though her reflection belonged to someone else. Midnight silk clung to her body, elegant in its cut but merciless in its honesty. The gown skimmed her frame, dipping a little lower at the neckline than she would have ever chosen. The hem grazed the floor, pooling around her like ink spilt across marble. She tried to tug it subtly higher, but the fabric slid back into place, stubborn and unyielding.
Her throat tightened. The dress was beautiful—stunning, even. But it wasn't her. It belonged to a world she had no business standing in.
Of course, it was Adrian's choice.
She didn't need to turn to know he was behind her. His presence filled the room even before his voice did. Smooth. Precise. Certain.
"Perfect," he said, the word rolling off his tongue like an order, not a compliment. "Now you look like someone they can't ignore."
Sienna's eyes met his in the mirror, her reflection framed by the steel of his gaze. "You make it sound like I'm part of a sales pitch."
His mouth curved slightly—something that wanted to be a smile but never made it that far. "You are."
The words landed like a weight on her chest. She didn't reply. What could she say? That she wasn't a product to be polished and displayed? That she hated the way the dress seemed to fit her into a mold, not her own? That the only reason she was here at all was because she had no choice?
The silence between them stretched, broken only when Adrian stepped closer. He reached for the clasp of the necklace he'd sent earlier, fastening it around her neck with practised ease. His fingers brushed against her skin for only a second, but it was enough to make her pulse stumble. She hated that too—the way her body betrayed her even when her mind stayed sharp.
The car ride to the hotel was silent except for the hum of the engine. Sienna sat with her hands folded in her lap, fingers brushing over the diamond ring that glittered against her skin. It still felt strange, too heavy for its size. Every time she looked at it, she remembered the signature that had changed everything less than twenty-four hours ago.
She told herself she should feel relief. Lila was safe now. The debt was gone. But beneath that relief was something harder, sharper: the weight of her bargain, the realization that freedom for her sister had come at the cost of her own.
The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, gold and white, and restless. She wished she could blur with them and disappear into the hum of life outside. Instead, she sat still, a mannequin dressed in silk and diamonds, being ferried into someone else's world.
The hotel was a palace of glass and light. Chandeliers dripped gold across polished marble floors, and every corner seemed designed to impress, to remind you that power could be bought, built, and displayed.
The ballroom itself was alive with it. Waiters glided through the crowd with silver trays, the air heavy with champagne bubbles and expensive perfume. Conversations floated like music—business deals disguised as banter, gossip disguised as charm.
Heads turned the moment Adrian walked in. Of course they did.
He carried himself like he owned not just the room but the air in it. His presence cut through the hum of chatter without him saying a word. People gravitated toward him like moths to a flame, though Sienna suspected none of them would admit how much they feared being burned.
She kept her chin high, forcing her legs to match his unhurried, confident stride. Adrian's hand rested lightly at the small of her back. It wasn't heavy enough to feel like possession, but firm enough to remind her of where she stood—and who she stood with.
"Smile," he murmured without looking at her.
Her lips curved. The motion felt stiff at first, like bending a piece of metal that didn't want to move. But she held it because she had to.
The evening blurred into polite nods and air-kiss greetings, introductions to people whose names she forgot the moment they turned away. Investors, politicians, and a designer who looked at her gown like he recognized it from his own showroom. She wondered if he'd notice her discomfort too, if he'd see through the mask Adrian was moulding onto her face.
Every now and then, Adrian's hand would guide her closer, drawing her into his orbit as he spoke. His voice was smooth, practised, almost hypnotic as he spoke about "our plans" and "our goals." Words that painted them as partners, as equals. Words that tasted like lies.
She played along anyway. Her laugh was light when it needed to be, her gaze soft when it landed on him. She knew the role: supportive fiancée, polished and pliant. It was a performance, and she was determined not to falter—not when the cost of failure was too high.
And then—
A flash. Bright, sharp. Then another. And another. The photographers had found them.
Adrian's hand tightened at her waist. His expression didn't change, but his gaze shifted to her, steady and unreadable.
"Stay still," he said.
"Why—"
She didn't finish. His hand was suddenly on her cheek, tilting her face toward his.
The kiss was sudden. Firm. Controlled.
Her breath caught—not because it was rough, but because it wasn't. His lips were warm, steady, deliberate. The kind of kiss meant not for her, but for them—the cameras, the crowd, the world watching. And yet, for one suspended second, the world seemed to fade into silence, leaving only the heat of his mouth against hers.
When he pulled back, she was breathless, her pulse stumbling into chaos. The ghost of the kiss lingered on her lips, unsettling and far too real.
"Why—" she began, but his voice cut through hers, low and sharp.
"Smile."
And she did, automatically, because the flashes were still coming. The photographers were eating it up—the powerful billionaire and his stunning fiancée, caught in a moment of undeniable chemistry.
Except it wasn't chemistry. Not really. It was a strategy. Calculated, deliberate, and perfect.
At least, that's what she told herself.
But then why did her body feel unsteady, as though she'd stepped off solid ground? Why did her chest ache with something that felt dangerously close to belief?
As the cameras retreated and the crowd shifted, Adrian's hand lingered at her waist a second too long before sliding away. His voice brushed against her ear, low enough that only she could hear.
"Well done."
It wasn't praise so much as acknowledgement, as if she'd passed a test she hadn't studied for.
The rest of the evening passed in a haze of light and laughter, but she barely remembered any of it. The taste of that kiss stayed with her, unexpected and unshakable.
By the time they returned to the car, her body was tired, but her mind was restless. The city rushed past the windows again, the skyline glittering like a thousand tiny eyes.
She still hadn't decided which was more dangerous: the deal she'd signed, or the way one kiss could make her forget that it was all an act.