Celine didn't just walk; she prowled. Her silver dress caught the ballroom light, making her look like a shimmering blade. She ignored me entirely, her eyes locked on Adrian with a mixture of possessiveness and spite.
"Celine," Adrian said, his voice flat. He didn't let go of my hand. In fact, his grip tightened, a silent anchor in the rising storm. "I believe you were in Paris."
"And I believe you were single three weeks ago," she retorted, her gaze finally sliding to me. She looked at me like I was a stain on a white carpet. "So, this is the little Florence Nightingale I've been reading about? Tell me, dear, is it difficult transitioning from changing bedpans to wearing diamonds that cost more than your village?"
The insult stung, but my years in the hospital had given me a thick skin. I didn't flinch. I took a small step forward, maintaining the calm, professional poise I'd used with the most difficult surgeons back home.
"The diamonds are beautiful, Celine," I said, my voice steady. "But I've found that the weight of a person's character is much harder to carry than jewelry. It seems you've chosen the lighter load."
Adrian's jaw didn't just tighten; I saw a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like a smirk. Celine, however, turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with her silver gown.
"You have a tongue," Celine hissed. "Let's see how long you keep it when the board finds out about the 'arrangement' Adrian made to keep his seat. Men like Adrian don't marry for love, darling. They marry for convenience. And convenience eventually becomes... boring."
She leaned in close to me, the scent of expensive gin and malice radiating off her. "Enjoy the penthouse while you can. I give it a month before he realizes a nurse belongs in a clinic, not a throne."
She swept away, her heels clicking like a countdown.
The silence that followed between Adrian and me was heavy. We were still standing in the middle of the dance floor, the music continuing around us, but the magic of the "near-miss" moment from minutes ago was dead.
"We're leaving," Adrian said abruptly.
He led me out of the Pierre Hotel and into the waiting car. As the city lights blurred past the window, the distance between us felt miles wide again.
"She knows, doesn't she?" I asked, looking at his profile in the dark. "She knows it's a contract."
"She suspects," Adrian replied, staring straight ahead. "But suspicion isn't proof. As long as you play your part, the contract holds. But Celine is right about one thing."
He finally turned to look at me, his eyes cold and unreadable. "This is about convenience. Don't let your little victory tonight make you forget that."
I looked away, my heart aching in a way that had nothing to do with debt. I had won the battle against Celine, but I was losing the war against the one rule I wasn't supposed to break.