CHAPTER 5

HER FIRST REAL TEST

Alexander stayed attentive, his hand never more than a few centimeters away from some part of her, her waist, her shoulder, the small of her back. Every touch, as performative as it was, stung with unwelcome tingles in her body. She found herself having to fight the shiver that would rise up involuntarily when he would lean in to whisper some background information about whoever they were speaking with, his breath warm against her ear.

As they made their way toward their appointed dinner table, he murmured, 'You're doing fine.' "Robert was impressed."

She admitted that she wasn't performing with him. 'I truly do enjoy what the foundation does.'

Alexander’s expression shifted; maybe approval. Pretense is more convincing when it's possible to be authentic.

The dinner was a seven course affair, with wines that cost more than Aria's rent probably for the month. She was seated between Alexander and an elderly gentleman who, as it turned out, was a retired neurosurgeon with an eye for experimental cancer treatments. He appeared to take pleasure in her genuine interest in his work, and by dessert, he offered to get her father's doctors in touch with specialists in rare cancers.

Coffee was served, and he commented, "Your wife is delightful, Blackwood." "It is refreshing to meet someone at a function like this who cares more about the cause than being seen."

Alexander’s hand landed lightly on hers, and his thumb absentmindedly drew little circles on her skin. “Of course, Aria has always known what’s important—that’s just one of the reasons I fell for her.”

Aria almost bought into what he was saying, his voice was so warm and genuine. Turning to look at him, she was expecting that usual scheming look in his eye, but his gray eyes were gentler than she’d ever seen, and they were locked on her so intently, she forgot to breathe for a second.

She actually forgot for a split second that she was just pretending.

Alexander blinked, and for a split second he looked confused. Maybe concern? It vanished so fast before she could determine what it was, that he was back to his usual calm and friendly self.

When the orchestra started to play announcing the time of dancing, Alexander stood up and held out his hand. Would my wife do me the honor?

"Of course... darling," she said, the endearment still awkward on her tongue.

On the dance floor, Alexander helped her into the proper waltz position, one hand at her waist, the other holding hers a tad softer than she expected. He was smooth and confident in his movements, making it easy for her to follow his lead.

As he spun her around, she said, ‘I had no idea you could dance.’

“Boarding school,” he said. “Mandatory classes. You’re keeping up pretty well.”

“I did community theater as a teen,” she said. “Never the main character, I was always in the chorus.”

His eyes lit up with a real spark of laughter. I can’t imagine you blending in with the crowd.

The compliment totally surprised her. “Oh—uh, thanks!”

And they fell into silence, moving together with surprising harmony. Aria was painfully aware of his hand at her waist, his subtle cologne that clung to his skin, and the strength in his shoulders under her palm. She could see the flecks of blue in his gray eyes, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw though he seemed perfectly clean shaven.

He murmured, pulling her slightly closer, 'People are watching.' "The ones who doubt our marriage is real."

His words brought her back to reality, this wasn’t real. The closeness, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her: all purposely calculated performance.

"Expect? What do they expect to see?" Her voice was barely steady as she asked.

He simply said: 'A woman in love.' With warning in his eyes he added, 'I'm going to kiss you.' Don't look surprised."

Alexander lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers before she could process his words. It was a gentle kiss, hesitant, nothing like the perfunctory peck she'd expected. His face was close enough for the warmth of his lips to kiss me, and they were surprisingly soft as they lingered long enough to be convincing but not long enough to be inappropriate for the setting.

Aria was momentarily speechless, her heart racing for no reason whatsoever related to the dancing.

"Good," he said, approval in his tone. "You looked suitably affected."

The comment was cold water to her. She nodded—of course, that was exactly what he'd wanted for their audience. She didn't care about any response she felt.

She replied, but with a hint of bitterness in her tone to not have been able to keep her tone in check that the performance had met with her approval.

What blinked in his eyes was confusion, or maybe; before he could say anything, there was a sudden appearance of a tall, immaculately dressed woman at Alexander's side.

"Alexander, darling," the woman purred, placing a manicured hand on his arm. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your... bride?"

Alexander's posture stiffened slightly, though his expression remained pleasant. "Victoria. I wasn't aware you were in Boston."

"Clearly," the woman replied, her smile not reaching her calculating eyes as they swept over Aria with undisguised assessment. "The invitation must have been lost in the mail."

Alexander's arm tightened around Aria's waist possessively. "Victoria Harrington, an old family friend. Victoria, this is my wife, Aria."

Victoria extended a perfectly manicured hand. "How... unexpected. Alexander never mentioned he was seeing anyone, let alone contemplating marriage."

Aria took the woman's hand with what she hoped was confident warmth and replied, 'We chose to keep it private.' "Until we were certain."

Victoria's gaze flicked to Alexander. "And now you're certain." "After what—six months? But impulsive for a man who, when I knew him, needed five year business plans before making basic investment decisions.

Aria could feel the tension in his body, though Alexander’s smile remained fixed. "When you know, you know. They say that, don't they, darling?"

His endearment was so convincing of affection that Aria could almost believe it herself. 'And besides,' he added, 'why wait for perfect happiness?'

Victoria's smile didn't reach her eyes, perfect features arranging themselves into a smile. "How... romantic. "I didn't think you were a sentimentalist, Alexander," I said.

He had answered smoothly, 'My wife brings out unexpected sides of me.'

Victoria's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the emphasis on "my wife." You are both quite lucky. Everyone is just dying to know how the confirmed bachelor finally fell."

Victoria didn't believe the romance story and she wasn't above questioning it publicly, a threat that was clear in her words.

"But perhaps they are," Alexander said, "but tonight is not about our private life, but about the children's cancer research."

Aria felt the undercurrents and wanted to break the tension, so she spoke up. "Victoria, are you involved with the foundation's work? It's such an important cause."

Victoria got back to Aria, taking a second appraising look. The Barnetts have been supported by my family for generations. Long before it became... fashionable."

Aria replied sincerely, "Then we share a passion." Given my father's condition, I'm hoping to become more involved myself.

Something in Victoria's expression shifted—not quite softening, but recalculating. "Your father?"

"Rare form of lymphoma," Alexander answered for her, his voice gentling. "One of the reasons Aria and I connected initially."

The genuine emotion in his voice surprised Aria. It sounded almost... real.

Victoria studied them both for a long moment before her perfectly painted lips curved into a more genuine smile. "Well, then. Perhaps you're not entirely what I expected, Aria Blackwood."

Before Aria could respond, Victoria glanced over her shoulder. "My date appears to be looking for me. We should catch up properly soon, Alexander. Perhaps dinner next week? Bring your wife, of course."

As she glided away, Aria let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Who was that, exactly?"

To be continued...