Chapter 3 - Parisian Illusions

Celeste Laurent adjusted the platinum engagement ring on her finger, resisting the urge to throw it across the jet. The stone was elegant, flawless, and undoubtedly expensive. It felt like a shackle on her finger. A symbol of a lie, she was now forced to live.

Across from her, Damien Sinclair barely spared her a glance, absorbed in his tablet as if they weren’t flying to Paris to stage the biggest charade of their lives.

Her stomach twisted. Even though she had agreed to this and given herself three months to endure it, reality began to set in and doubt coiled in her chest.

“You’re fidgeting,” Damien remarked without looking up.

Celeste shot him a glare. “I don’t fidget.”

His lips twitched. “You do when you’re overthinking.”

She exhaled sharply, unclenching her fingers from the armrest. “This is ridiculous.”

Damien finally looked up, his piercing grey eyes locking onto hers. “It’s necessary.”

“For you,” she countered.

“For both of us,” he corrected. “Or do you enjoy watching your name being dragged through the tabloids?”

Celeste bit the inside of her cheek. "Why is this man always right!" She hated that fact.

The media had been relentless, from the moment that their ‘engagement’ leaked, breaking news headlines had exploded.

Articles were questioning her loyalty, her past relationships, and her career choices flooded social media. Some praised the match, calling them Hollywood’s ultimate power couple, whilst others speculated on hidden motives and weaving conspiracy theories.

This was a disaster, to say the least, and going to Paris was the only way to take control of it.

The Grand Rose Gala was an exclusive, invite-only event that would be where they would make their first official public appearance as a couple. It was the kind of elite affair where the world’s most powerful people gathered, and here their ‘relationship’ would be cemented in front of cameras and high society alike.

Celeste inhaled slowly, forcing her emotions down. “Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “But if we’re doing this, I’m in control of how we present ourselves.”

Damien raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She nodded. “No staged kisses, no over-the-top theatrics. We keep it believable but subtle.”

His gaze darkened with something unreadable. “And if I decide subtlety isn’t enough?”

Her stomach clenched. She knew that Damien played by his own rules. He always had. If he decided that a grand public display of affection was necessary, there would be no holding back.

Celeste met his stare, refusing to back down. “Then I walk.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but after a tense pause, he gave a slow nod. “Understood.”

Relief flickered through her, though the way he was watching her was very unsettling. It was as if he was waiting for her to realize something, something that she wasn’t ready to face.

The moment Celeste stepped out of the car, the world exploded into light, with cameras flashing, reporters shouting, and the chaotic hum of luxury and scandal. It was all-consuming

She had been in the spotlight for years, but tonight felt different because this time, she wasn’t just Celeste Laurent, an award-winning actress. She was Celeste Laurent, Damien Sinclair’s fiancée.

A strong hand wrapped around hers. His grip was firm, possessive, but not forced. He exuded effortless control as he led her onto the red carpet, his expression calm, confident, as if this wasn’t all one giant manipulation.

Celeste swallowed and straightened her shoulders. She had to remember that she was an actress, and this was just another role.

She smiled for the cameras, letting Damien guide her through the storm. They paused at the entrance of the grand ballroom, a sea of power players surrounding them, business moguls, Hollywood elites, and royalty alike.

The eyes of the world were watching.

“Smile, sweetheart,” Damien murmured in her ear. “We’re the couple of the year.”

Celeste’s lips curved upward, but she resisted the urge to dig her heel into his foot.

They stepped inside, the grand chandelier casting golden light over the glittering affair. Music played softly, champagne glasses clinked. Everything was perfect.

“You two are the talk of the city,” a sultry voice purred.

Celeste turned to see Vanessa Moreau, French actress, model, and professional homewrecker.

She had history with Damien. An affair years ago with Damien, it was brief, scandalous, and ended in disaster.

Judging by the way Vanessa’s red-painted lips curved into a knowing smile, she was here to stir trouble.

“Vanessa,” Damien greeted, his tone neutral.

Vanessa’s gaze flickered to Celeste, her expression laced with amusement. “You're engaged to Celeste Laurent. How exciting.”

Celeste smiled coolly. “It is, isn’t it?”

Vanessa tilted her head. “I must say, I didn’t expect that a woman like you would settle down with someone like Damien…” She let her words hang, feigning curiosity.

Celeste knew what she her tricks. She was baiting her. Trying to plant doubt in her mind.

But Celeste had played this game before.

She stepped closer to Damien, her fingers gliding along his lapel in an effortless display of intimacy. “Well, when you know, you know.”

Damien didn’t move, but Celeste felt the subtle shift in his stance.

Then, without warning, he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against her skin.

Vanessa’s smile wavered for a fraction of a second before she laughed softly. “I suppose you do.”

She sauntered away, leaving a trail of perfume and quiet chaos in her wake.

Celeste exhaled, carefully withdrawing her hand. “That was unnecessary.”

Damien’s gaze flickered with something unreadable. “Was it?”

An hour later, Celeste found herself on the dance floor, Damien’s hand resting lightly on her waist.

The room blurred around them, the soft melody of the orchestra drowning out the noise of the evening.

Celeste’s heartbeat was steady, but she was hyper-aware of Damien’s presence.

“You handled Vanessa well,” he murmured.

Celeste scoffed. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

He smirked. “I don’t doubt it.”

They moved in perfect sync, years of chemistry manifesting in every step. Each step was dangerous. It was too easy to fall into old rhythms, and forget that this was all an illusion.

She swallowed hard. “How long do we have to keep this up?”

Damien’s fingers tightened slightly on her waist. “Until it feels real.”

Her breath hitched. "Was this a warning or a challenge." she thought as she stared into his storm-gray eyes, searching for any ounce of deception.

But rarher than deception, she found something else. Something that terrified her, and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, she almost believed him.

She almost believed that this wasn’t a game. That beneath the cold calculations and public spectacle, there was something real.

She had to get out before, it was too late.