Chapter 7

The dress took two people to zip me into it, and by the time I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back.

Barely. Except for the murderous look in her eyes that was reserved for one person.

Rhys Calloway.

He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when I came down. Immediately, he heard the clicking of my heels, and he turned and froze.

His eyes widened, and his lip parted in surprise as he stared openly at me, before he caught himself, smoothing it over so fast I almost thought I imagined it.

Reaching the end of the stairs, he offered his arm silently, and I took it, mostly because I wanted enough practice for the cameras that would be waiting to catch every crack in this fairytale.

The gala was worse than I braced for, and trust me, I'd braced for a lot.

"Aurelia, darling, you look absolutely radiant." A woman I vaguely remembered from my old life air-kissed both my cheeks before I could ‘unintentionally’ dodge it. "Who would've thought, after everything, you'd land somewhere so... comfortable."

I chuckled dryly, "Lucky me," my smile tight and fake.

"Such a fairytale, really." Another one slid in beside her, all teeth but no warmth. "Though I suppose some girls just know how to make the best of a bad situation, right?"

I clenched my jaw so hard they started to ache, my nails digging little half-moons into my palms, and every polite comeback I'd rehearsed on the ride over here just evaporated on the spot.

I opened my mouth, ready to say something that would absolutely end up as tomorrow's headline, when Rhys's hand landed against the small of my back.

"If you'll excuse us," he said calmly, and the temperature of the whole circle dropped about ten degrees, "my wife doesn't need commentary on how she got here."

I watched as both women's smiles froze in place. None of them said a word after that.

He steered me away before I'd even fully processed what just happened, and I spent the next few minutes trying to figure out why my chest felt tight in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with pent-up rage.

Dinner passed mostly in silence, which suited me fine. Except every time I glanced up, I caught him already staring at me, and every single time of it, he'd look away half a beat too late, like I'd caught him with his hand in a cookie jar he wasn't supposed to touch.

I scoffed internally. He was probably taking note of something to use against me. Maybe the way I held my fork. His own ammunition, filed away for whenever this arrangement stopped being convenient to him.

Men like Rhys didn't stare at women like me for any reason that wasn't calculated.

But that didn't stop me from sitting up straighter every single time he did it, though.

After a few awkward minutes had passed, the band started playing, and I watched with forced interest as couples drifted toward the dance floor.

They must be happy… I sighed loudly, just as Rhys stood and stuck his hand out to me like that was the most normal thing to do.

It wasn't.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed, low enough that only he'd hear it.

"Keeping up appearances." His lips curved into an easy-going and completely infuriating smile. "We need to be in love, remember?"

He was right. I ground my teeth, dragged my face into something that could pass for a smile under the dozens of eyes now watching us, and put my hand in his.

He led me onto the floor like he'd done this a thousand times before, probably had, and pulled me in close enough that his hand settled firm and unmistakable against my waist.

My pulse kicked into overdrive immediately, traitorously, loud enough I was half convinced he could feel it straight through my dress.

Great. My body picking now to have opinions my brain never signed off on.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he leaned into me, lips brushing my ear, "Relax, Aurelia."

His voice was husky, meant only for me, warm breath tickling my skin. "It's not like I'm going to kiss you in front of everyone."

I stilled, meeting his eyes, "Wasn't worried about it." I countered, which was a total lie, and from the way his lip curved a little wider, he knew.

He turned us slowly, hand pressing a little tighter at my back, and for one dizzy second, the whole room narrowed down to nothing but him and the music and the feel of his chiseled chest through his suit.

At this rate, my heart was beating ridiculously fast, then he dipped me, and my hand gripped his shoulder for balance. His mouth suddenly was a lot closer than it had any right to be, and I gulped at our proximity.

This isn't good. At all.

"You know," he murmured, close enough that it made tingles crawl up my spine, "for someone who hates me this much, you dance like you don't want this song to end."

"Or maybe," he added right before he pulled me back up, his fingers curved around my chin, something wicked flashed through his eyes, "we could speed things up a little.”