The Kingsley Hotel ballroom glowed with polished chandeliers and crystal glassware. It was the annual charity gala—one of the most photographed events on London's corporate calendar—and tonight it was more than philanthropy. Tonight it was a battlefield.
For days, Richard Blake's insinuations had swirled in the press. If Nadia and Tom failed to appear convincingly united, the rumors would harden into fact.
Nadia adjusted the emerald silk gown that clung to her frame, every detail calculated to project control. She hated the vulnerability of it—the way people would dissect her look, her posture, her smile—but she had no choice. Verdant's future depended on this.
Tom, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, extended his arm as their car pulled up. Cameras flashed the moment the door opened.
"Ready?" he asked quietly.
"No," she said, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm. "But let's go anyway."
---
The crowd roared with light and noise as they stepped onto the carpet. Reporters shouted questions, flashes stung Nadia's eyes, and Tom leaned closer, guiding her with steady assurance.
"Smile," he murmured.
She forced one.
"Closer," he added.
She stiffened. "Closer?"
Without hesitation, he slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her against him. The cameras exploded. Nadia's breath caught, but she held her pose, pretending it was natural.
Inside the ballroom, the performance didn't stop. Guests swarmed them—investors, journalists, even rivals—hungry for proof that their marriage was real.
"Mr. Kingsley, Mrs. Kingsley," one patron gushed, her eyes darting between them. "What a stunning couple."
Tom smiled easily. "Thank you. Nadia makes it easy."
The compliment landed too smoothly. Too sincere. Nadia's chest tightened.
---
The first challenge came swiftly. Richard Blake himself approached, smug in his midnight-blue suit.
"Nadia. Tom." His tone dripped with false warmth. "What a surprise to see you both here—together."
Tom's expression never wavered. "Not much of a surprise, Richard. Married couples usually attend events together."
Blake's smirk sharpened. "Of course. Though I imagine it must be difficult, blending two empires. One wonders how much time you truly spend as husband and wife."
A silence hovered. Reporters lingered nearby, recording every word.
Nadia forced her smile steady. "Enough to know that running businesses doesn't mean neglecting each other."
Blake raised a brow. "How… efficient."
Tom tightened his arm around her waist. "Efficiency's not such a bad thing, Richard. Unless you're losing market share."
The jab hit its mark. Blake's smile thinned before he retreated. Cameras had caught everything.
Nadia leaned closer to Tom, whispering, "You enjoyed that too much."
He grinned faintly. "You're starting to notice a pattern."
---
Dinner was served. Nadia endured endless toasts and conversations, every move scrutinized. She could feel Vogel's eyes from across the room, his expression unreadable, watching for cracks.
Midway through the meal, Tom reached for her hand under the table. She flinched, instinctively pulling back, but his fingers closed gently around hers.
"Relax," he murmured. "They're watching."
Her pulse quickened. She left her hand there, unwilling but unable to pull away again. His touch was steady, grounding, dangerous.
When she glanced at him, he wasn't looking at the crowd. He was watching her.
---
The evening built toward the charity auction, a spectacle designed for headlines. Tom was called to the stage to present a major donation.
"Tonight," he announced, "the Kingsley Foundation pledges two million pounds toward renewable innovation in hospitality—powered by Verdant technology."
The room erupted in applause. Cameras flashed toward Nadia, capturing her reaction. She forced composure, but inside, shock rippled through her.
This wasn't in the script.
When Tom returned to their table, she leaned close, voice sharp. "You didn't tell me you were announcing that."
He poured himself a glass of wine, unbothered. "It's good for Verdant. Good for us."
"You blindsided me."
"I surprised you. There's a difference."
Her jaw tightened. "Don't do that again."
He looked at her evenly. "Would you rather I didn't fight for your company at all?"
The words hit harder than she expected. She looked away, unsettled by the sincerity in his tone.
---
After the auction, the ballroom shifted into a more casual flow of music and mingling. Tom guided Nadia onto the dance floor as the orchestra played a waltz.
"I don't dance," she muttered.
"You do tonight."
He placed a hand on her back, leading her into the rhythm. She stumbled at first, but his grip steadied her. Cameras circled, guests whispered, and for once she wasn't thinking about strategy. She was thinking about how close he felt.
"You're good at this," she admitted reluctantly.
He smiled down at her. "I've had practice. Never with anyone who mattered, though."
Her chest tightened again. She hated how easily his words slipped past her defenses.
---
The night wore on. By the time they returned to the penthouse, Nadia was exhausted, her body aching from the performance of perfection.
She sank onto the sofa, heels kicked off. Tom poured two glasses of whisky, setting one beside her.
"You handled yourself well," he said.
"I survived."
He studied her quietly. "That's all you ever aim for? Survival?"
Her eyes flashed. "What else is there?"
"Living. Risking. Wanting."
The words were too close to the truth she didn't want to face.
She stood abruptly. "I'm going to bed."
But Tom's voice followed her. "You're afraid of me, Nadia. Not because I can ruin you. Because I can reach you."
She froze.
He didn't push further. He just let the silence hang, heavy and undeniable.
Nadia walked away without replying, but her heart was no longer steady.
---
The next morning, headlines praised their performance.
KINGSLEYS STEAL THE GALA: POWER COUPLE DOMINATES CHARITY NIGHT.
RICHARD BLAKE SILENCED BY KINGSLEY-VERDANT ALLIANCE.
Reinhardt's office sent an official note of approval. The investment was one step closer.
Verdant was safe—for now.
But Nadia was not.
Because Tom's words from the night before echoed in her mind, louder than any headline.
You're afraid of me. Because I can reach you.
And she feared he was right.