The Ridgemont Gallery was the kind of place where power wore a mask of civility. Light glinted off crystal champagne flutes and the polished smiles of the city's elite. It was a cage of gilded expectations, and Amara felt the bars close in with every step.
The emerald-green gown Cassian's stylist had chosen was a masterpiece, but it felt like a suit of armor—beautiful, heavy, and designed for a battle she hadn't chosen.
"Stay close," Cassian's voice was a low murmur beside her. He didn't need to remind her. In this world, he was her only landmark in a sea of shifting loyalties and hidden judgments.
As they moved through the crowd, the whispers were a palpable force.
*"That's her… the one Lucian left at the altar."*
*"And she landed on her feet, didn't she? Cassian Black, of all people."*
Amara kept her spine straight, her expression a carefully neutral mask. She recognized faces in the crowd—former friends of her family, business associates who had once laughed with Lucian at charity dinners. Their eyes now held a new, calculating respect, tinged with a venomous curiosity.
Cassian's hand was a steady, warm pressure on the small of her back. It wasn't a caress; it was a guide, a silent command to keep moving, to own the space she occupied.
She accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, the bubbles doing little to settle her nerves.
"Are you enjoying this?" she asked under her breath when Cassian paused to acknowledge a bland compliment from a rival CEO.
"Enjoyment isn't the point," he replied, his smile never wavering for the crowd.
"Then what is? Parading me like a reclaimed asset?"
He turned his head slightly, his voice for her alone. "I'm reminding them that what they discarded, I recognized as valuable. It makes them question their own judgment."
The logic was cold and sharp. He wasn't just giving her a new status; he was using her as a tool to undermine theirs. The bitterness of it rose in her throat, but beneath it was a reluctant understanding. This was the game they were playing.
A woman glided towards them—Serena, a notorious socialite and, Amara recalled, a former flame of Lucian's. Her smile was all sharp edges. "Cassian, what a surprise. I heard you'd… upgraded." Her eyes flicked over Amara, dismissive.
"Serena," Cassian's tone was coolly pleasant. "I've always had an eye for quality. It's a skill some never acquire." He then turned to Amara, his public persona shifting into something more intimate. "Darling, shall we dance?"
The string quartet began a waltz. On the dance floor, his hand was firm on her waist, his lead confident.
"You're stiff," he observed quietly. "They need to see a woman in love with her husband, not a hostage."
"Is that what I am?"
"You tell me." His gaze was intent. "You signed the contract. Now sell it."
A spark of defiance, the same one he'd seen the night they met, flared in her chest. She relaxed into his lead, her smile softening into something that felt dangerously genuine. "Then how's this?" she murmured, her voice sweet but her eyes holding his. "A suggestion—don't mistake a woman playing her part for one who has forgotten she's in a game."
For a heartbeat, the polished mask of the ruthless businessman slipped. A genuine, surprised amusement lit his eyes, and he let out a soft, low laugh. "There you are," he said, his grip on her hand tightening almost imperceptibly. "I was wondering when you'd join the fight."
When the music faded, a smattering of applause echoed through the gallery. Cassian lifted her hand, and instead of the perfunctory kiss she expected, he pressed his lips to her knuckles, his eyes locked on hers. The contact was brief, but it burned with an unexpected intensity that had nothing to do with their audience.
Across the room, partially obscured by a marble column, Lucian Hale stood watching. The champagne flute in his hand was clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. The triumph he'd felt days ago had curdled into something that looked very much like regret. He was no longer watching a woman he'd discarded, but a force he had utterly failed to comprehend.