---
Chapter Eighteen: The Eyes That Watch
The car ride was quiet.
Elena's dress shimmered under the streetlights—midnight blue against pale skin, the fabric soft as breath but cut with precision. No jewelry, except for the silver moon at her throat.
Aiden hadn't said a word since they left the penthouse.
He looked out the window, jaw set, suit perfect.
But his hand rested on his knee, fingers tapping once. Then again.
Tension filled his body but it was almost invisible because he controlled it so well.
Still tension.
"You don't have to babysit me," she said.
He looked over. "I'm not."he said simply
"Then what are you doing?"
A pause.
"Showing them where I stand."
---
The hotel was glass and gold. Every person there was polished within an inch of their lives. The air buzzed with power—old money, new ambition.
Elena stepped out of the car first.
Cameras clicked.
Heads turned.
Whispers rose almost instantly, like steam.
That's her?
The switch bride—
God, she's nothing like Isabella—
Aiden came around to her side and offered his arm.
She hesitated. Just long enough to make it clear she was the one choosing.
Then she took it.
Inside, it was all flashbulbs and champagne.
The Black name pulled gravity—people moved when Aiden walked by. Some out of respect. Some out of fear. Others to get close.
Elena kept her spine straight, face unreadable. She didn't fake a smile. Didn't hide or pretend.
She just was.
They made it halfway through the ballroom before the first ambush.
A couple approached—polished, familiar. The woman wore red and smiled too widely.
"Elena," she purred. "We've been dying to meet you."
Elena nodded once. "And you are?"
The woman blinked. A flicker of real irritation behind the perfect makeup.
"Simone Carver. We go back ages with Aiden."
Aiden gave a polite nod. "Simone's husband used to work with my father."
Used to. Not anymore.
Simone's gaze shifted, sharp. "You must feel... out of your depth, all this attention. Not many women could step into a role like this on such short notice."
"I didn't step into a role," Elena said. "I stepped into a room. The rest is noise."she said with her head held up as high as it could go…
Aiden said nothing—but she felt his arm tighten slightly under her hand.
Simone gave a brittle laugh. "Well. She's quick."
"She's not performing," Aiden said flatly. "She's just honest."
That shut Simone up.
She made some excuse and walked away, heels clicking too fast for composure.
Elena looked up at Aiden. "That was unnecessary." she said even as it gladdened her heart that he stood up for her
"She insulted you."
"She insulted the idea of me. I'm used to that."
He looked at her. Really looked. All breathtaking intensity and said one word that shook her core.
"I'm not," he said.
---
Later, she stood near the edge of the ballroom. Watching.
Aiden was across the room, deep in conversation with two men in sharp suits. She could tell by his expression—low voice, still jaw—it was business.
She didn't interrupt.
But she felt it. The stares.
Everywhere.
Some curious. Some cruel. Some hungry for a crack in the surface.
She turned her back on them and walked out onto the terrace.
The air was colder than she expected.
The city spread below, glittering and indifferent.
She exhaled. Long. Quiet.
Aiden found her five minutes later.
"They're circling," he said.
"I noticed."
"They want blood. Or a scandal."
She nodded. "I'm not going to give it to them."
He stepped beside her. Not touching. Just close.
"I didn't know what to expect tonight," he said.
"From them?"
"From you."
She looked over. "And?"
A pause.
"You don't need armor," he said. "You are the weapon."
Her breath caught.
Not because of the compliment—but because of the way he said it.
Like it wasn't a line. Like it surprised him.
"I don't want to be a weapon," she said.
"I know."
He looked at her again. Something in his expression cracked. Just a hair.
"But if you are," he added, "you're pointed at the wrong enemy."
She met his gaze. Unflinching.
"Then show me who the real one is."
The music swelled behind them.
Inside, the room pulsed with heat and noise.
But out here, it was just them.
And for a moment—no games. No power plays.
Just two people standing in the cold, no longer pretending not to see each other.