The car purred to a stop outside the Grand Sterling Hotel, a towering monument of glass and light. The gala had already begun; cameras flashed in the distance, catching glimpses of gowns, diamonds, and champagne flutes raised in glittering hands.
Sophia's stomach churned.
"This is unnecessary," she muttered, staring out at the sea of flashing lights. "Dragging me here like I'm some trophy."
Adrian, seated beside her, adjusted his cufflinks. His profile was carved in stone — composed, flawless, unbothered. "You are not a trophy," he said coolly. "You are my wife. Tonight, you play the part."
Sophia bristled. "Play the part. That's all I am to you, isn't it?"
Adrian finally turned his head, his eyes locking onto hers with the weight of command. "Remember the terms, Miss Carter. Public appearances, no cracks in the façade. Our marriage must look seamless. Convincing. If you fail tonight, the board will notice. And I don't tolerate failure."
Heat rose to her cheeks. "I hate you," she whispered, the words sharp as knives.
His jaw tightened. "Then hate me beautifully. The cameras won't know the difference."
Before she could retort, the driver opened the door. Adrian stepped out first, every inch the untouchable billionaire, the predator in his kingdom. When he turned and offered his hand to her, Sophia hesitated, her heart hammering.
Flashbulbs erupted like lightning.
She placed her hand in his.
Together, they stepped into the storm.
---
The Grand Entrance
Sophia's gown was silk the color of midnight, chosen by Adrian's personal stylist. The fabric clung and flowed in ways that made her uncomfortable, but the cameras loved it. She could feel lenses tracking her every movement, capturing her first appearance as Mrs. Adrian Blackwood.
Adrian's arm rested lightly at her back, his touch firm, possessive — and calculated. He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear though his voice was ice.
"Smile."
She obeyed, curving her lips upward even as her teeth ground together.
The crowd welcomed them with applause, whispers rippling like a tide.
"There he is."
"With his new wife."
"She's stunning."
"But so young…"
"How long will it last?"
Sophia heard it all, though she kept her head high. Every step felt like walking on glass.
---
The Ballroom
Crystal chandeliers bathed the ballroom in golden light. Waiters in crisp uniforms glided with silver trays. The elite of the city mingled, laughter tinkling like champagne bubbles.
Adrian moved with ease, commanding the room without effort. Sophia stayed at his side, the perfect accessory.
Introductions blurred together. Business moguls. Politicians. Heiresses dripping in jewels. Each one congratulated them with smiles too sharp, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.
Sophia forced herself to nod, to laugh lightly, to touch Adrian's arm as though it were natural. Inside, bile burned.
When a senator's wife gushed, "You two make such a striking couple! How did you meet?" Sophia's throat closed.
Adrian didn't miss a beat. He slid an arm around her waist, his grip tightening until it almost hurt. "It was fate," he said smoothly, his eyes locking with Sophia's in silent warning. "We met, and I knew immediately she belonged with me."
The room cooed.
Sophia wanted to scream.
Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder, her smile flawless. "And he swept me off my feet," she lied, her voice honeyed.
The senator's wife sighed. "A love story. How wonderful."
Sophia's nails dug into her palm. If only they knew.
---
The Dance
Hours passed, the mask never slipping. But when the orchestra struck up a waltz, Adrian extended his hand.
"Dance with me."
Sophia's heart sank. "No."
"Do not make a scene."
Grinding her teeth, she let him lead her onto the dance floor.
Adrian's hand pressed against her back, guiding her effortlessly. He moved like a man born to this, elegant and controlled. Sophia followed, her body tense, her gaze locked anywhere but his face.
"You're stiff," he murmured. "Relax."
"I'd rather dance with a cobra."
"Then you'd be wise to remember," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, "I bite harder."
Her breath caught. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat the world blurred — the music, the people, the glittering lights. Only the two of them existed, locked in a battle neither would admit aloud.
To anyone watching, they were a vision of romance. In truth, every step was war.
When the song ended, applause rippled. Adrian bowed slightly, his mask of charm never faltering. Sophia curtsied, her smile perfect. Inside, her rage burned hotter than ever.
---
The encounter
Later, as Sophia slipped away for air, she overheard a pair of socialites whispering near the balcony.
"She looks terrified."
"Of course she does. Women like her don't marry men like Adrian Blackwood without a reason."
"Money, obviously."
"Or desperation."
Sophia froze, her stomach twisting.
She turned—only to find Adrian standing behind her, his face unreadable.
"You're listening to vultures," he said quietly.
"They're right," she shot back, her voice shaking. "They see the truth. I didn't marry you for love. I married you because I had no choice."
His eyes darkened, his jaw flexing. He stepped closer until she was backed against the balcony's glass door.
"You think you're the only one without a choice?" he said, voice low and fierce. "You think I wanted this?"
Her heart pounded. "Then why—"
"Because," he cut in, his breath harsh, "sometimes power demands sacrifice. And you, Sophia, are my sacrifice."
The words stung like a slap.
Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I hate you," she whispered, trembling.
Adrian's gaze lingered on her, something unspoken flickering in his eyes before he turned away. "Good," he said flatly. "Hate is useful. It keeps things simple."
And with that, he walked back into the ballroom, leaving her alone with her fury.