Rio's POV
The penthouse feels different tonight. Maybe it's the way the city lights catch on Lina's emerald dress as she stands before the mirror, adjusting her earrings with trembling fingers. Or maybe it's the way my chest tightens watching her, knowing that in a few hours, we'll be performing the biggest act of our lives.
"Ready?" I ask, though I can see she's anything but.
She turns, and Christ, she takes my breath away. The dress hugs every curve like it was made for her body alone. Her hair falls in soft waves over one shoulder, and those dark eyes that have been haunting my thoughts look up at me with a mixture of nervousness and trust that does something dangerous to my resolve.
"Do I look okay?" The vulnerability in her voice hits me square in the chest.
I cross the room slowly, deliberately, letting my eyes travel over her in a way that makes her cheeks flush pink. "You look like you could bring me to my knees."
The words slip out before I can stop them, raw and honest in a way that has nothing to do with our arrangement. Her lips part slightly, and for a heartbeat, the air between us crackles with something electric.
But then I remember who I am, what this is. Business. Always business.
I reach into my jacket and pull out the velvet box I've been carrying. "One final touch."
Her eyes widen as I open it, revealing the emerald necklace that cost more than most people make in a year. It's stunning, but not as stunning as the way her hand flies to her throat.
"Rio, I can't—"
"You can. You will." I step behind her, my fingers brushing the nape of her neck as I fasten the clasp. Her skin is soft and warm, and she smells like jasmine and vanilla. "Tonight, you're not just Lina the marketing coordinator. You're my fiancée. My equal. Act like it."
In the mirror, I watch her transform. The uncertainty fades, replaced by something stronger. She lifts her chin, rolls her shoulders back, and suddenly she's not the nervous woman from my guest room. She's a force to be reckoned with.
"Better?" she asks.
"Dangerous," I murmur against her ear, and the shiver that runs through her body makes me want to cancel this whole damn event.
Lina's POV
The moment we step out of Rio's Tesla at the Fairmont, I understand what it means to be Rio Kalinawan's woman. The valet practically trips over himself to open my door. The photographers gathered at the entrance was crazy, shouting Rio's name and asking about our engagement. People stare as we walk the red carpet together.
Rio's hand warm and steady at the small of my back, guiding me through the chaos with the confidence of a man who owns the world. When a photographer calls out for us to look his way, Rio turns to me instead of the camera with his eyes soft and adoring in a way that makes my knees weak.
"Smile for me, sweetheart," he says, loud enough for the microphones to catch.
I don't have to fake the smile that spreads across my face. The way he's looking at me, like I'm the most precious thing he's ever seen, makes me feel like I could conquer armies.
Inside, the ballroom is a fairy tale of crystal and gold. Everyone here speaks wealth and power, but Rio moves through them like a king among his subjects. And somehow, impossibly, I feel like I belong at his side.
"Lina!" Jessica appears at my elbow, her eyes wide with excitement. "Oh my God, you look incredible! And Rio—" She fans herself dramatically. "Girl, how did you keep him a secret?"
Before I can answer, Rio's arm slides around my waist, pulling me against his side with possessive ease.
"I couldn't let her get away," he says, pressing a kiss to my temple that sends heat racing through my veins. "Some women are worth keeping to yourself until you're sure they'll stay."
The words are honey and silk, but there's something in his tone that makes them feel real. Jessica practically melts on the spot.
"When's the wedding?" she asks breathlessly.
"Soon," Rio says, his thumb tracing circles on my hip through the silk of my dress. "I'm not a patient man when it comes to making her mine."
The possessiveness in his voice should annoy me. Instead, it makes me want to lean into him and never let go.
Rio's POV
The evening unfolds like a perfectly choreographed dance. Lina charms everyone she meets with genuine warmth that can't be faked. When Mrs. Patterson, the mayor's wife, comments on her dress, Lina compliments the woman's diamond bracelet and asks about her charity work with such sincere interest that Mrs. Patterson ends up inviting us to her private dinner party next month.
"You're a natural," I murmur in her ear as we move toward the bar.
"I'm terrified," she admits, but she's smiling as she says it. "Everyone keeps staring at us."
"At you," I correct, flagging down the bartender. "They're staring at you because you're the most beautiful woman in this room."
She ducks her head, but I catch the pleased flush that spreads across her cheeks. It does something to me, this shyness mixed with growing confidence. Makes me want to tell her she's beautiful every day until she believes it without question.
"Two champagnes," I tell the bartender, then lean closer to Lina. "And because you're about to make every other man in here wish he was me."
"Stop," she laughs, but her fingers curl into my lapel like she doesn't want me to move away. "People will think you're actually smitten."
"Maybe I am," I say, and the words hang between us like a confession neither of us is ready for.
When the orchestra begins to play, I don't ask. I simply take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor. The moment she's in my arms, everything else fades away. She fits against me perfectly, her hand soft in mine, her body warm and pliant as I guide her through the steps.
"You dance like you've done this before," she observes, looking up at me through those long lashes.
"Mandatory at boarding school. Though I've never enjoyed it until now."
"What's different about now?"
The honest answer would be dangerous. The honest answer would be that she makes me forget I'm performing, makes me want things I've never allowed myself to want. Instead, I spin her slowly, bringing her back against my chest.
"Now I have the perfect partner."
We dance through three songs, and with each turn, each dip, each time she laughs at something I whisper in her ear, the line between real and fake blurs a little more. By the time the music stops, I'm holding her closer than any fake fiancé should, and she's looking at me like I hung the stars just for her.
"We should mingle," she says breathlessly, but she doesn't move out of my arms.
"In a minute," I say, because I'm not ready to let her go. Not yet.
Lina's POV
The rest of the evening passes in a whirlwind of introductions and conversations, but Rio never leaves my side. His presence is constant and comforting—a warm hand at my back, fingers intertwined with mine, the occasional brush of his lips against my ear when he whispers commentary about the people we're meeting.
"See the woman in purple?" he murmurs as we watch the crowd. "She's been married four times and each husband was richer than the last."
I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. "That's terrible."
"That's strategy. She's actually quite brilliant. Turned a hundred thousand dollar inheritance into a fifty million dollar empire."
"Are you impressed or horrified?"
"Both," he admits with a grin that makes my heart skip. "Remind me never to underestimate you."
When dinner is announced, Rio pulls out my chair with old-fashioned courtesy that makes several women sigh audibly. Throughout the meal, he's the perfect attentive fiancé—making sure my wine glass never empties, laughing at my stories, sharing bites of his dessert when I eye it longingly.
"Try this," he says, holding a spoonful of chocolate soufflé near my lips.
The gesture is intimate, domestic in a way that makes my chest tight. I part my lips, letting him feed me, and the way his eyes darken as he watches my mouth makes heat pool low in my belly.
"Good?" he asks, his voice slightly rough.
"Perfect," I whisper, and we're not talking about dessert anymore.
As the evening winds down, we find ourselves on a quiet terrace overlooking the city lights. The cool air is a relief after the crowded ballroom, and for the first time all night, we're alone.
"That was incredible," I say, leaning against the stone railing. "Everyone believed us completely."
"Did they?" Rio moves to stand behind me, his hands coming to rest on either side of mine on the railing, caging me in. "Or did we believe ourselves?"
His breath is warm against my neck, and I shiver despite the mild evening. "Rio..."
"Tell me you felt it too," he says quietly. "The way it stopped feeling like acting."
I want to deny it, want to keep the safe distance our contract provides. But with his body warm and solid behind mine, with the scent of his cologne making me dizzy, I can't lie.
"I felt it."
He turns me in his arms, and the look in his eyes steals my breath. There's hunger there, yes, but something deeper too. Something that looks dangerously like real feeling.
"This complicates things," he says, his thumb tracing my lower lip.
"We don't have to let it," I whisper, but even as I say it, I know it's too late.
"Don't we?" His mouth is inches from mine now. "Because right now, the only thing I want is to take you home and show you exactly how convincing I can be when I'm not performing."
The promise in his words makes my knees weak, but before I can respond, he steps back, the mask of composed businessman sliding back into place.
"But we have an agreement," he says coolly. "And I always honor my agreements."
The sudden distance hurts more than it should, but I force myself to nod. "Of course. Business first."
"Always," he agrees, but something flickers in his eyes that suggests his words taste bitter.
Rio's POV
The drive home is torture. Lina sits beside me in silence, the emerald necklace catching the streetlights, Every instinct I have is screaming at me to pull over, to tell her that agreements can be renegotiated, that some things are more important than contracts.
But I don't. Because I'm Rio Kalinawan, and I don't let emotions cloud my judgment. I don't risk everything I've built for a woman, no matter how she makes me feel.
Back at the penthouse, I pour myself three fingers of whiskey and stand at the windows overlooking the city. Behind me, I hear Lina's heels on the marble floor, the soft sound of her bedroom door closing.
My phone buzzes with messages from business contacts commenting on the evening, on how happy I looked, on what a perfect couple we made. Each notification is another reminder of how successful our performance was.
So why does it feel like the biggest failure of my life?
I down the whiskey in one burning swallow and pour another. Tomorrow, I'll be back to business as usual. Tomorrow, I'll remember why I don't do relationships, why I keep people at arm's length, why emotional complications are a luxury I can't afford.
But tonight, with the taste of her skin still on my lips and the memory of her laughter echoing in my head, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like if this were real.
Just for tonight.