I hadn't anticipated the difficulty.
The initial days following Matthew's arrival had been a haze. He'd laid out his demands, and I'd told myself it was all just a professional arrangement. A contract, nothing more. But the distinction between business and personal was dissolving at an alarming rate, and I was struggling to keep pace.
I'd always managed to compartmentalize my work and my feelings. I had to, in the past. But this—this was something else entirely.
I hadn't realized that signing that contract would draw me further into a realm I didn't comprehend. A world of opulence, influence, and unspoken protocols. A world where Matthew King held sway, and everyone else was merely a pawn.
At first, it seemed straightforward. But now? It felt like I was caught in a current, and I couldn't decide whether to struggle against it or simply surrender.
The gala that evening was meant to be routine. A formal dinner. An opportunity for Matthew to showcase his business acumen. An opportunity for me to fulfill my role as his wife, just as I'd promised.
But it was anything but straightforward.
I faced the mirror in the penthouse, adjusting the black dress Matthew had picked out. It was stunning, silk with a plunging neckline, clinging to every contour, yet it felt constricting in ways it shouldn't have. The dress wasn't the problem; it was everything else. The unease that slithered up my back each time I caught my reflection.
Was I truly going through with this?
Was this truly the person I'd become? A woman who donned a costume and pretended to be wed to a man she hardly knew?
I fidgeted with the strap of my dress, but the door swung open before I could make any further adjustments.
"Ready?" Matthew's voice was smooth, yet there was an undercurrent—something I couldn't quite identify.
I turned, surprised. He stood in the doorway, his stance tall and authoritative. He was clad in a sharp black tuxedo, looking as if he were meant to be on a catwalk. But his eyes… they were frigid, remote. As if he were concealing something.
"Yeah, I think so," I replied, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes.
He didn't return the gesture. His gaze swept over me for a moment, then his face settled into an impassive mask.
"You look fine," he said, though his body betrayed him.
I saw the rigidity in his posture. He was usually so composed, a man who seemed to have perfected the art of emotional restraint. But tonight, something was off. Perhaps it was the way he kept stealing glances at me, or the way his jaw clenched when our eyes met.
I glanced down at my hands, suddenly aware of them. "You don't have to do this, you know," I murmured, the words escaping before I could think.
We don't have to do this. This entire situation. The contract.
His gaze held mine, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I caught a glimpse of something—something beyond the usual detachment. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He moved closer, his actions deliberate and controlled.
"We had a deal, Esther," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I don't go back on my word."
The finality in his words was unmistakable. No chance to bargain. No space for emotion.
I inhaled deeply, attempting to quell the storm of feelings within me. "I just can't grasp why you're doing this," I admitted, my voice betraying a slight tremor. "Why this marriage? Why me?"
Matthew's expression softened for a fleeting instant, only to be replaced by the familiar, impenetrable facade. "It's not about you," he stated, almost dismissively. "It's about what's required."
A tightness gripped my stomach, and I averted my eyes, staring at the floor.
"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do? Pretend to be your wife?"
The air between us thickened, a palpable weight. We were both silent for a beat, the words I wanted to say lodged somewhere deep. I couldn't find them.
Matthew finally spoke, his voice regaining its usual authority. "Let's go," he said. "We'll discuss it later."
I nodded, though the knot in my stomach tightened. He turned, heading for the door, and I fell in step behind him, trying to ignore the unspoken strain.
The gala was everything I'd anticipated, and then some. The lights, the laughter, the quiet conversations—it was all so flawlessly orchestrated.
The room was a tableau of perfection, everyone carefully curated, their lives a reflection of surface-level success, much like Matthew. I was playing the part of his wife, right there with them. I smiled at the appropriate times, laughed at the expected jokes. But it all felt…empty.
I saw Matthew, a figure of authority, across the room, engaged in conversation with unfamiliar men. His stance was assured, his words precise and deliberate. He was the ruler here, and I was simply a piece on his chessboard.
I should have been accustomed to it, really. I should have known it was just a transaction. Yet, the longer I was with him, the more difficult it became to keep the business deal and my feelings from colliding.
I surveyed the room, searching for something to occupy my mind. But everywhere I turned, there were signals of my alienation. The opulence, the influence, the prestige—it was a realm I was never meant to inhabit.
And still, I felt trapped in this world.
"Esther." Matthew's voice cut through my reverie, and I looked up to see him beside me. His gaze was as inscrutable as ever, but something in the way he was watching me now…
"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice a mere breath.
He didn't respond immediately. He simply studied me, his face a mask. "Nothing," he finally said. "I just thought you should understand that this is all part of the plan. Don't get attached."
His words sent a shiver down my spine, though I fought to keep it from showing. "I'm not attached," I said, the words coming out a bit too quickly, a bit too harsh.
Matthew's eyebrow arched, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Good." He pivoted and strode toward a cluster of colleagues.
I stayed put, a peculiar hollowness settling in my chest. What was I even doing here? Why had I said yes?
I was way too deep.