The night of the gala arrived with a silence that felt heavier than usual.
Alana stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her. The dress Adrian had chosen clung to her body like it had been designed with intention elegant, dark, deceptively simple. It revealed nothing scandalous, yet somehow suggested everything.
She swallowed.
This wasn't her world. Crystal chandeliers. Elite guests. Power disguised as polite smiles.
And Adrian Blackwood ruled it effortlessly.
A soft knock echoed against her bedroom door.
"Five minutes," Adrian's voice came from the other side. Calm. Controlled. Unreadable.
Her pulse quickened.
When she stepped out into the hallway, Adrian was already waiting.
He wore a tailored black suit, sharp and commanding, every inch the CEO the world feared and admired. His gaze moved over her slowly not possessive, not overtly lustful but deliberate enough to make her breath hitch.
"You look… appropriate," he said.
That single word stung more than she expected.
"Thank you," Alana replied evenly.
His eyes lingered just a second longer before he extended his arm. "Remember what I said."
She slipped her hand through his arm, feeling the solid strength beneath the fabric. "Outside these walls, I'm yours."
"Yes," he replied. "And tonight, everyone will believe it."
The gala was held in one of the most prestigious hotels in the city. Gold and glass shimmered everywhere, reflecting power and money in equal measure. As they entered, conversations slowed. Heads turned.
Whispers followed.
Adrian Blackwood never appeared without purpose.
And never with mystery.
Alana felt it immediately the weight of attention, the unspoken judgments, the curiosity burning in strangers' eyes. She tightened her grip on Adrian's arm instinctively.
He noticed.
His hand covered hers, firm and grounding. "Don't shrink," he murmured. "Stand with me."
So she did.
They moved through the crowd like a single unit. Adrian greeted executives and investors with practiced ease. Alana smiled when expected, spoke when addressed, and observed everything else carefully.
She learned quickly.
This world was full of predators hiding behind champagne flutes.
"Adrian."
A woman's voice cut through the air.
Alana turned to see her tall, elegant, beautiful in a way that felt intentional. Red lips. Confident smile. Familiarity in her eyes.
"Clara," Adrian said coolly.
Clara's gaze shifted to Alana, slow and assessing. "And this must be the wife."
Alana smiled politely. "Alana."
"Of course," Clara replied, her smile tightening. "I've heard so much about you."
Adrian's arm subtly tightened around Alana's waist.
"She's with me," he said flatly.
The implication was clear.
Clara's eyes flickered. Just for a moment. Then she laughed softly. "Well, Adrian, you've always had… interesting tastes."
Alana felt the challenge beneath the words.
"Enjoy the evening," Adrian said, already guiding Alana away.
As they walked off, Alana finally spoke. "Who was that?"
"A complication," he replied.
She arched an eyebrow. "Past or present?"
He paused. "Past."
That should have reassured her.
It didn't.
The music shifted. Slower now. More intimate.
Couples began drifting toward the dance floor.
Adrian turned to her. "Dance."
It wasn't a question.
She hesitated only a second before nodding.
The moment his hand settled at her lower back, everything changed. The distance between them vanished. Her body responded before her mind could object.
They moved together seamlessly, like this wasn't their first time like they had been doing this for years.
"You're tense," Adrian murmured.
"Everyone is watching," she replied.
"They always are."
His hand pressed slightly firmer against her back. Grounding. Claiming.
"Relax," he added. "They already believe you belong here."
Her gaze lifted to his. "Do you?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
For the briefest moment, his expression faltered.
Then the music carried them forward again.
"I believe," he said slowly, "that tonight, you're exactly where you're meant to be."
As the night wore on, champagne flowed and smiles sharpened.
Alana noticed the way people looked at Adrian admiration mixed with fear. And the way they looked at her curiosity turning into calculation.
She was more than decoration tonight.
She was leverage.
During a brief pause near the balcony, she exhaled deeply. "This is exhausting."
Adrian glanced at her. "You're doing well."
"That's not a compliment."
A faint smirk appeared. "It was meant to be."
They stood in silence, city lights stretching endlessly below them.
"You don't have to prove anything," he said quietly.
She turned to him. "Neither do you."
Their eyes locked.
Something unspoken pulsed between them dangerous and undeniable.
Without thinking, she reached up, adjusting his tie. The contact was innocent.
The effect was not.
Adrian's breath slowed. His gaze darkened.
"Careful," he warned.
Her fingers stilled. "Or what?"
His hand closed around her wrist, gentle but absolute. He leaned closer, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
"Or you'll forget this is just a contract."
Her heart pounded.
Maybe she already had.
Inside, Clara watched them from across the room, lips pressed into a thin line.
The game had changed.
And she wasn't done playing.
When the gala finally ended, the drive home was silent but not comfortable.
The air between them felt charged, stretched tight by everything they hadn't said.
As the elevator doors closed behind them at the apartment, Adrian finally turned to her.
"You handled tonight well," he said.
She met his gaze. "So did you."
The silence returned, thicker than before.
As she walked toward her room, his voice stopped her.
"Alana."
She turned.
"You surprised me tonight."
"How?"
"You didn't disappear."
Her chest tightened. "Neither did you."
Their eyes held for a long moment.
Too long.
Then she turned and walked away, her pulse racing.
Behind her, Adrian remained still.
For the first time in years, control felt… fragile.The apartment was unusually quiet when they returned. The city noise felt distant, muffled behind thick glass and unspoken tension.
Alana slipped off her heels near the entrance, her movements slow, deliberate. The evening had drained her more than she expected not physically, but emotionally. Holding herself together in front of powerful strangers had required constant control.
She straightened and turned, only to find Adrian still standing near the door, watching her.
"You were different tonight," he said.
She crossed her arms. "Different how?"
"Confident," he replied. "Unapologetic."
"That wasn't part of the contract."
"No," he agreed. "But it worked."
Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Familiar now.
Alana walked past him, stopping just short of her bedroom door. "Clara doesn't like me."
Adrian exhaled slowly. "Clara doesn't like losing."
"That sounds personal."
"It is," he said honestly.
She turned to face him. "Am I… part of that?"
His gaze sharpened. "You're not a pawn, Alana."
"Then what am I?"
The question hung between them, fragile and dangerous.
Adrian stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. His voice dropped. "You're someone people will try to use against me."
Her heart skipped. "Including you?"
He hesitated. Just long enough to matter.
"I protect what's mine," he said finally.
Something inside her shifted at those words uneasy, conflicted, stirred.
She nodded slowly. "Then maybe you should stop pretending this doesn't affect you."
His jaw tightened. "Go get some rest."
It was dismissal. But not cold.
As she opened her door, she paused. "Goodnight, Adrian."
He didn't answer immediately.
"Goodnight, Alana."
The door closed softly behind her.
Adrian remained in the hallway long after, staring at the space she had occupied. The gala had proven something he could no longer ignore.
This arrangement was no longer contained.
And once emotions entered the equation, contracts meant very little.