Preparing for the gala made me more nervous than the fake wedding.
Christian took his time clearing me on the prestigious people who would attend.
Daughters and sons of high-caliber men in the society, dressed in heels and suits, glammed to perfection.
My dress was ready — the cloth designer had taken my measurements early that morning.
Scrolling through the guest list online, my stomach twisted when I spotted the governor's daughter among the attendees.
My nerves must have been obvious because Clara, the youngest housemaid, paused by my door.
Though we hadn't had proper conversations, Clara and I understood each other.
In the lonely halls of Ethan's mansion, her quiet company made all the difference.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Clara said softly. "The glam team is here."
I stared blankly at the wall. If I had a choice, I would have skipped this night entirely.
But I didn't.
"Ma'am," she repeated.
I blinked, forcing a smile.
"They're gonna make you so beautiful you won't have to worry about anything," she reassured.
I followed her into a room where every tool for beautification was laid out, a small army of stylists waiting.
Clara hovered near the door until I caught her eye.
"Stay," I said.
She smiled and nodded, standing by quietly as the team worked on me.
They took their time — hair molded into soft waves, makeup brushed to perfection.
Finally, they presented the dress.
It was cream-colored, sleeveless, the slit running high from my thigh down.
The back dipped low, barely covering anything.
I hesitated, pointing to a different dress instead, but one of the stylists shook her head awkwardly.
"Ma'am…Sir Ethan chose this one for you."
I sighed, locking eyes with Clara who gave me a small nod of encouragement.
There was no winning here.
"Okay. Whatever you say."
---
By the time they finished, it was nearing midnight.
I barely recognized myself in the mirror.
My curves were accentuated, my neckline daring.
For a moment, I almost believed I could fit among the powerful and untouchable tonight.
If this was how Ethan wanted me to look… fine.
---
Clara led me downstairs where Ethan stood, checking his watch.
Christian was beside him, engrossed in his phone.
The click of my heels on marble turned their heads.
Ethan's eyes found me instantly — and held.
He didn't smile.
He didn't speak.
But there was something there — something heated and unreadable.
Christian coughed lightly, breaking the tension.
"You're late," Ethan said, offering his arm.
I took it, surprised to feel his hand tighten slightly around mine, steadying me.
Was I shaking that much?
---
We arrived at the gala, the lights blinding, heads turning as we entered.
The buzz shifted — a new energy pulsed through the crowd.
And then...
The ring on my finger caught the light.
Murmurs sparked immediately.
Whispers traveled fast — Ethan O'Martin, married?
Following tradition, Christian leaned over to remind us, "As custom, you must meet at least three new people tonight."
"Easy," Ethan murmured, his eyes still scanning the crowd.
He squeezed my hand lightly, assuring me before slipping away.
I was on my own.
---
The first person I met was an older woman — the wife of a politician.
She wasted no time.
"So," she said, swirling her drink. "You and Ethan… married?"
I smiled firmly, heart pounding. "Yes. We are."
Her eyebrows shot up.
"He's only ever brought two women here before," she said. "One... an unknown girl years ago. And now you."
I stayed silent, polite.
"He always came alone, left with whichever beauty caught his eye," she added meaningfully.
The conversation ended awkwardly as I moved on, her words clinging to my skin like smoke.
Was the "unknown girl" she mentioned... the ex?
---
The second new person was George.
I knew instantly he wasn't a friend — the smirk he wore was too sharp.
"Married?" George barked a laugh. "That's rich."
He handed me his business card, leaning in far too close.
"Ethan once stole something from me," he whispered. "Let's see if I can return the favor."
Ethan noticed from across the room, his jaw tightening.
I tucked the card into my clutch without comment, sensing Ethan's gaze burning into me.
---
Then I met her.
The ex.
She was stunning — just like I had imagined.
Eloquent, elegant, the kind of woman you could listen to all night without ever getting bored.
Why would Ethan ever leave her?
Her voice dripped with jealousy as she leaned in.
"You should leave while you can," she whispered.
I walked away before she could say more, my head spinning.
---
Minutes later, Ethan found me again.
"You met her," he said, his voice unreadable.
I blinked. "Is that her?"
He nodded, grim.
"Why aren't you two together?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.
"She loved me," Ethan said, voice low. "Or said she did."
"In love?" I repeated, surprised.
He laughed it off.
"Don't believe in that. That's what she said. If that satisfies your curious mind."
There was a beat of silence before he added, almost too casually,
"I wouldn't want that for you."
He grinned faintly, cocky. "I'm too charmed to resist, after all."
I rolled my eyes, laughing in spite of myself.
---
We didn't have long before I brought up George.
"He didn't seem to buy that we're married," I said carefully.
Ethan's gaze darkened.
"What did he give you?"
I showed him the business card tucked inside my clutch.
He said nothing for a long moment.
Then he asked — sharp, almost playful, almost dangerous:
"Did you find him attractive?"
I smirked, knowing exactly what he was fishing for.
"I'm not about to wound your ego, Mr. O'Martin.
Besides, you stole his girlfriend once, remember? I'm not giving him that satisfaction."
He laughed softly under his breath.
---
The night shifted again when the tango music started.
Ethan extended a hand.
I took it.
We moved together seamlessly across the floor, caught in the tide of the music.
Eyes locked. Breaths synced.
I was lost in him — lost in the dark beauty of his gaze.
His earlier words — I'm too charmed to resist — echoed in my mind.
And for the first time, I truly believed it.
He could do no wrong in my eyes.
---
I didn't even realize it until it happened —
Until his hand cupped my face, until he kissed me, slow and deep, in full view of the room.
I blinked up at him, stunned.
He shrugged, smirking, his eyes flickering sideways —
George was watching.
The ex was watching.
The kiss had been a statement.
And yet...
God help me, I wanted it to be real.
---
I excused myself to catch my breath.
Heading toward the restroom again, I caught the tail-end of two girls gossiping.
They didn't believe Ethan was capable of love.
They didn't believe he could ever truly belong to anyone.
Not after the promises he made to his ex.
Their words clawed at my heart, tearing tiny holes I didn't know how to patch.
---
I wandered back to the bar, ordered something stronger.
George found me again, laughing easily, slipping drinks into my hand.
Ethan, watching from afar, finally moved.
He didn't speak — just pulled me firmly away.
"No more," he said.
---
Christian took a different car.
Ethan bundled me into a black SUV, sliding in beside me.
I was drunk.
Tears blurred my vision.
The alcohol stripped away all my defenses, leaving only the ache I could no longer deny.
In the backseat, my head lolled against Ethan's shoulder.
"If..." I hiccupped, grabbing weakly at his jacket, "If I told you... I wanted you to like me..."
The car was silent.
The city lights blurred outside the window.
Ethan didn't look at me.
He didn't answer.
He stared straight ahead, face unreadable.
But just before sleep claimed me, I heard him mutter, so low it might have been a dream:
"That would definitely hurt."
--