The gala was everything Mia hated, glitter, whispers, and people who smiled with their teeth but never their eyes.
The ballroom of the Grand Astoria shimmered with chandeliers and the scent of expensive lies. Every camera turned when Adrian Drake entered, cutting through the crowd like a blade. And at his side, wearing a fitted black gown that hugged every ounce of boldness she owned, was Mia Hart, the scandal's daughter turned mystery fiancée.
Flashbulbs ignited like lightning.
"Mr. Drake! Over here!"
"Who's the lucky lady?"
"Mia Hart, is it true you're engaged?"
Mia's arm was looped through his, her smile practiced and perfect. Inside, her gut twisted with unease.
Adrian leaned slightly toward her, his voice barely a whisper. "Smile brighter."
She tilted her head and murmured back, "You're enjoying this too much."
He didn't deny it.
The crowd swallowed them whole, champagne, laughter, music but beneath it all was the electric thread between them. Every time she glanced at him, he seemed to already be watching her. Every time he spoke, she seemed more attentive than everyone else.
They were convincing, and that was what made them dangerous.
"You look exquisite," said a familiar voice. It was Julian Crest, another designer and Mia's ex, the one who'd abandoned her during her family's collapse. His smirk was pure venom wrapped in charm.
"Julian," Mia said coolly. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Where else would I be? Success magnetizes me," he said, gaze flicking to Adrian. "And apparently, it attracts you too."
Adrian didn't smile. "You must be the one who thought betrayal was a business strategy."
Julian's smirk faltered for half a second before returning. "Harsh words from a man who buys affection."
The air sharpened, humming with unspoken tension. Cameras flashed closer.
Mia stepped in before the tension exploded. "Gentlemen, please. Let's not make tonight memorable for the wrong reasons."
Adrian's hand found the small of her back steady, commanding. "You're right, darling," he said, voice smooth but edged. "Let's not waste time on irrelevance."
The word darling rolled off his tongue like silk, but when he said it, something inside her shifted, the first tremor of a feeling she didn't want to name.
Julian excused himself soon after, but not before muttering, "Be careful who you trust, Mia."
When he was gone, she exhaled slowly. "You didn't have to defend me."
"Yes, I did," Adrian said simply.
She frowned. "Why?"
He turned to her, eyes dark and unwavering. "Because you're mine tonight."
Her pulse stuttered. "You really like ownership metaphors, don't you?"
He smirked faintly. "Only when they get a reaction."
She glared at him, but the air between them hummed, equal parts irritation and something magnetic.
Later, they sat at the head table, surrounded by investors and board members. Conversation flowed around them, but Adrian's attention rarely drifted from her. When she spoke, he watched. When she laughed genuinely, his gaze softened before he caught himself.
Across the room, whispers followed them. The tabloids would have their headline:
"Adrian Drake Engaged to Disgraced Heiress."
But in that moment, neither cared.
"Mia," he said quietly, leaning close enough that only she could hear. "You handle pressure better than I expected."
She took a sip of champagne, eyes steady on his. "You expected me to crumble?"
"I expected you to break," he admitted. "But breaking and bending are different things. You bend beautifully."
She tried to hide her smile but failed. "Careful, Adrian. That almost sounded like a compliment."
"Almost," he said, and clinked his glass against hers.
By the end of the evening, they were the image of perfection, dancing beneath the chandelier, eyes locked in a gaze meant for cameras but charged with something else.
"Relax," she murmured as they moved. "You're too tense."
He chuckled under his breath. "I don't dance often."
"I can tell."
But when his hand tightened slightly on her waist, her protest faded. The rhythm shifted slower, smoother. It almost felt real.
For a second, she let herself forget the contract, the lies, the weight of revenge between them. There was only his warmth, his heartbeat under her palm, the soft scent of cedar and danger.
Then the cameras flashed again, and the spell broke.
She stepped back, breathless. "The show's over."
"Not yet," he said quietly. "You're still wearing my ring."
She opened her mouth to retort, but he leaned in too close and whispered, "Don't let anyone see you hesitate. You'll regret it."
Her throat went dry. "What makes you think I regret anything?"
He smiled, a swishing of something almost tender beneath the arrogance. "Because you still have fire in your eyes, Mia. The kind that only comes from loss or love."
Before she could reply, a photographer called their names. Adrian turned to the crowd, slipping an arm around her waist, and Mia's practiced smile returned like armor.
But her heart wasn't playing along.
When the evening finally ended, Adrian escorted her to the waiting car. The city glittered around them, alive and cold.
Inside the limousine, silence stretched, thick with everything they hadn't said.
"You handled Julian well," Adrian said finally.
"Did I?" she murmured. "Because it felt like drowning."
He turned to her. "You didn't drown. You rose."
She stared out the window, her voice barely above a whisper. "You sound like you almost care."
He didn't answer, just watched her reflection in the glass, the way her jaw trembled slightly though she tried to hide it.
Maybe he did care. Maybe that was the problem.
As the car pulled away, the city lights blurred into gold streaks, and for the first time since she'd signed that contract, Mia wondered if this arrangement might destroy them both but for reasons neither had planned.