Hart stepped back into the bedroom, sliding the glass balcony door shut with enough force to rattle the panes.
His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He tossed his phone onto the mattress, running a hand through his dark hair, ruining his usually perfect styling. The "protective nurse" from ten minutes ago was gone, replaced by the ruthless CEO of Matthew Group.
"Get out of bed, Eunice," Hart ordered, his voice dangerously low. "We have a change of plans."
Eunice scrambled up, pulling the duvet with her. "What happened? What did she say?"
"My grandmother," Hart practically spat the word, "has decided to turn tomorrow night's Annual Matthew Group Charity Gala into a public ambush. She has invited the press, the board of directors, and half the city's elite."
"For a charity gala?" Eunice asked, confused.
"To announce my engagement to Vanessa," Hart corrected, his dark eyes flashing with pure fury. "She thinks if she traps me in front of the cameras, I will smile and nod to protect the company's stock prices. She thinks she owns me."
Eunice felt a cold knot form in her stomach. "Are you... going to do it?"
Hart stopped pacing and turned to her. He looked at her pale face, her wide, worried eyes, and the way she gripped the bedsheets.
"I am not a puppet," Hart stated softly, walking back to the edge of the bed. "And I am not marrying Vanessa. Ever."
He reached out, his knuckles grazing her cheek.
"You are coming with me," he declared.
Eunice's eyes widened in panic. "To the Gala?! Hart, I can't! I'm supposed to be sick! Dr. Liam said I have anemia. If your grandmother sees me there, she will destroy me. You know what she offered me!"
"She won't touch you," Hart vowed, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that promised violence to anyone who dared. "Because you will be on my arm the entire night. You won't leave my side. If you get tired, we leave. If you feel faint, we leave. But you are walking down that red carpet with me, Eunice. Let the world—and my grandmother—see exactly who has my attention."
It was a declaration of war. He was going to use her as a human shield against Vanessa, but at the same time, he was elevating her above everyone else in the room.
Before Eunice could argue, Hart picked up his phone again and dialed his executive assistant, Logan.
"Logan. Cancel my afternoon. And send the design team from Maison de Rêve to the penthouse immediately. Miss Vance needs a gown for tomorrow night." Hart paused, glancing at Eunice's waist. "Tell them to bring soft fabrics. Nothing restrictive. Comfort is the priority."
An hour later, the penthouse living room was transformed into a high-end boutique.
Three nervous designers fluttered around Eunice, holding up swatches of silk, velvet, and tulle. Hart sat on the leather sofa, a glass of whiskey in his hand, rejecting dress after dress with a single, terrifying glare.
"Too revealing," he snapped at a red plunge-neck gown. "Too heavy. She is recovering from an illness," he dismissed a beaded silver dress.
Finally, the lead designer timidly brought out a garment bag and unzipped it.
"Mr. Matthew... this is a custom piece from our Paris runway. Midnight-sky organza. It is weightless, elegant, and features an empire waistline that flows beautifully over the stomach."
Eunice stopped breathing. An empire waistline. It was tight directly under the bust and flowed loosely to the floor. It was the perfect dress to hide a tiny, growing twin bump.
"I'll try that one," Eunice said quickly, grabbing the hanger before Hart could object.
She disappeared into the guest suite to change. When she emerged ten minutes later, the penthouse fell dead silent.
The dress was a masterpiece. It was a deep, shimmering navy blue that made her skin look like porcelain. The fabric draped like water, hiding her waist completely while making her look like royalty. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her bare shoulders.
She looked nervously at Hart.
He had slowly stood up from the sofa. The glass of whiskey in his hand was forgotten. His dark eyes swept over her, a flash of pure, unfiltered awe breaking through his usual cold mask. He didn't say a word. He just walked toward her, his gaze locked on hers.
He stopped inches away, the scent of his sandalwood cologne wrapping around her.
"You look..." Hart swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "You look beautiful, Eunice."
"It hides the... bloating. From the anemia," Eunice lied softly, looking down.
Hart placed a finger under her chin, gently forcing her to look up into his burning eyes.
"It doesn't hide anything," he murmured, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Tomorrow night, the whole world is going to see exactly what belongs to me."