Chapter 13

Jasmine’s POV

I didn’t want to do this. I really didn’t.

Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection. My hair was done. My face was painted with soft makeup. I wore the dress Blake had picked out for me a week ago. It was black. I was happy when he handed me the bag but I didn't show it. It was a backless, tight gown and it clung to every part of my body. I looked beautiful, yes. But inside, I felt cold. I didn’t want to go to this stupid party. I didn’t want to pretend to be in love with a devil. Not after everything Blake did. Not after the rain.

I still remembered that night. The sound of the rain pouring. The way my body had shaken in fright, the way my heart had raced, and Blake...letting me out of the car like he didn't care. Like he hadn't seen what it was doing to me. He used it against me. He did it on purpose. And now, I had to smile and hold his hand in front of rich strangers?

I had called Julia in the morning after I got to work, and told her about what Blake had told me. I told her I didn’t want to go. I told her I couldn’t do this fake love thing anymore.

"Julia, I can’t do it," I had said. "I don’t care about his company. I don’t care about the lies. He crossed the line."

But Julia had sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose like she was tired of me but her voice had come out soft, but firm.

"Jasmine, please," she said. "Think about the company. Think about the board. Think about the shareholders. If the media finds out this marriage isn’t real, we lose everything."

I had sat on the edge of my office desk, pressing my fingers into my forehead. I felt tired.

"You’re asking too much," I reminded her.

"I know," she nodded. "But you have to go. Forget about who Blake is and what he did to you and just pretend, just for tonight, you don’t have to talk to him after, just smile and survive it."

I didn’t answer her for a long time. Then I finally said, "Fine."

When I got home that afternoon, I saw Blake in the kitchen. He was wearing an apron, his sleeves rolled up so that his muscles were bulging out. He was cooking. The smell of food filled the house but I didn’t speak. I wanted nothing more than to walk straight to the bedroom, I didn’t want to see his face.

"Jasmine," he called out behind me.

I stopped, hissing out loudly so he could pick out my irritation.

"What?" I said, my voice was flat.

"I made food," he announced, not flinching at my tone. "You should eat something."

I turned slightly, not looking at him fully.

"I’ll eat at the party," I answered. "You didn’t have to bother."

"I wasn’t bothering," he winced at the words. Right I get it asshole, you don't get about me. You didn't need to make it that obvious again to me. "I just thought..."

"Save it, Blake," I cut in. "We’re already late."

And that was how I went inside the room and shut the door behind me. I leaned against the wood for a moment, breathing in deep. My hands were shaking, just a little.

I got dressed slowly. The dress zipped up the side, hugging every inch of me. When I stepped out, Blake was waiting in the hallway. His eyes moved over me. He didn’t say a word, but I saw the way his jaw clenched. His hands went into his pockets. His mouth opened, then closed.

"You look…"

"Don’t say it," I said quickly.

He nodded once. "Let’s go."

We sat in silence in the car. The driver didn’t speak either. I looked out the window, watching the lights pass by. My hands were folded tightly on my lap. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t turn.

When we arrived, everything was loud. People were laughing, music was playing softly, the smell of champagne and roses was everywhere. Caldwell’s house looked like a palace, filled with rich people dressed in gold and silk.

"Smile, little monster," Blake whispered to me as we walked in.

I forced one, a small one. Fake, just like this night.

"Mr. and Mrs. Remington!" someone said. A waiter, I think.

Blake nodded, putting his hand on the small of my back. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t pull away. We had to look real.

I whispered through my teeth, "Don’t touch me too long, asshole."

He leaned in. "Wow, I didn't reckon we've moved from Honey and Mr King to Asshole."

"I will call you whatever I like based on the way you behave to me." I spat out.

"Why don't you try smiling so it doesn’t look weird?" He flashed me a boyish grin and looked away.

I gave another fake smile after a while as people kept coming to us, shaking hands, hugging Blake while some even kissed my cheek. I kept smiling, my jaw hurting from it.

"You two look perfect together," someone said.

I almost laughed or rather I nearly burst into a fit of tears.

"Thank you," Blake said. "We’re very happy."

I didn’t speak. I just nodded and held onto his arm like I was supposed to.

"You okay?" he asked me once when we moved to a corner.

"No," I said quietly. "But I will be when this is over."

He didn’t respond.

Later, I went to the restroom. I needed air. I stared at myself in the mirror again. The same face from earlier. The same dress. The same eyes. But something felt different.

I hated that I had to lie. I hated that I had to play happy. I hated that the people clapping and smiling didn’t know the truth. That the man beside me had broken something inside me the night he left me in the rain.

When I came out, he was waiting for me again. He held out his hand.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Let’s just finish this," I said.

The crowd moved like waves the moment we stepped back into Caldwell’s mansion. Everyone rushed toward us, all dressed up and full of excitement. 

“Jasmine! Blake! Over here!”

Someone pushed a phone toward us. Someone else shouted for a pose. Blake reached for my waist as his hand settled there like it belonged. I forced a smile, tilting my head slightly toward him.

“Smile,” he whispered again for the hundredth time close to my ear. His breath was warm.

I smiled wider. I moved my head closer to his.

Click. Click. Click.

More flashes. More fake moments.

Blake leaned in again, this time pretending to whisper something sweet. His lips brushed my ear.

“You look stunning,” he murmured, low and soft.

I ignored the heat that spread across my neck. I ignored the way my skin tingled. I told myself this was acting. I reminded myself he was a monster. A cold, heartless freak.

“Don’t talk unless it’s necessary,” I whispered back.

He laughed. Just once, quiet and smooth.

We moved from group to group. I kept smiling. I laughed when I needed to. I held onto his arm like I meant it. He played along perfectly, too perfect, like he had done this a thousand times.

The night went on. We drank wine. We stood close. I laughed when he told a joke, even though I wanted to slap him. 

"You’re shaking," he said during the dance.

"It’s cold," I lied.

"You still hate me," he asked.

I looked up at him. "That’s not new. But the feelings just keep on increasing."

He nodded slowly. "I deserve it."

"Yes, you do," I whispered.

"You’re good at this," he said under his breath.

"I learned from the best liar," I replied.

He didn’t say anything after that.

When the music started, someone called us to the dance floor. I wanted to refuse. I wanted to disappear. But everyone was watching. Caldwell was watching. I saw him in the corner, arms folded, eyes sharp.

Blake pulled me toward the center. I went with him. I didn’t have a choice.

The slow song began. He pulled me close. 

I pressed my hands on his chest. “Don’t get carried away,” I warned discreetly.

“I won’t,” he grinned devilishly. “Unless you start enjoying this.”

His hand slid lower down my back. I froze. My breath caught in my throat.

“Blake,” I hissed under my breath. “Keep your hands in line.”

He leaned down, his mouth brushing my ear. “Then stop pressing against me.”

I stepped back a little. Not enough to be obvious but enough for space.

We kept dancing. His eyes didn’t leave mine. I forced myself not to look away. I had to win this game too.

The music ended and people clapped. Some whistled as we moved off the floor. I saw Caldwell walking toward me alone, his face unreadable.

Blake turned toward someone else, shaking hands. I stayed behind as I got his eyes, he wanted to talk to me.

Caldwell reached me, voice low. “Why him?” he asked. “There are better men out there, Jasmine. Why choose him?”

I gave him a smile. A sweet one. A fake one.

“No man compares to Blake,” I said softly. “None ever will.”

Caldwell didn’t speak. He watched me for a second longer, then walked away.

I turned to find Blake again. He was laughing now, surrounded by three women. One touched his arm. Another leaned too close. My hands curled into fists.

I walked over fast without even thinking. I didn’t plan what I did next. I grabbed his hand, pulling it into mine.

“He’s taken,” I said loud enough for all of them. “And trust me, no woman can handle him better than I do.”

The women laughed nervously and stepped away. Blake looked at me, eyes wide, then smirked.

“Jealous?” he asked.

“In your dreams,” I said and let go of his hand.

We left the party not long after. I stayed quiet in the car. Blake didn’t talk either. We just stared out the windows, the silence heavy between us.

At home, I changed into something comfortable and came downstairs. I wasn’t sleepy. I turned on the TV and sat on the couch. A movie was playing, but I didn’t really watch it. My mind was tired. My feet ached from the dancing and standing and trying to prove to everyone we were real. My heart felt confused.

After a while, Blake walked in. He didn’t say anything at first. He just went to the kitchen. I kept my eyes on the screen.

He came back with two glasses. One had orange juice. He handed it to me.

I looked at it, then looked at him. “Thanks,” I said slowly.

He sat beside me, close but not touching. We watched the screen for a few seconds. Then he asked, “Did you mean that?”

I knew what he meant. He was asking about what I said to the women.

I took a sip of the juice, then shrugged. “I lie for a living now, remember?”

My face was warm as my cheeks grew red and my heart raced wildly. But I knew he saw it.