3. Mirror Fiancée

Renese's POV

And that, ladies and gentlemen, has been my life ever since.

Under total surveillance.

I remember one time I got so sick of the red lights flashing in the corners of my bedroom that I screamed right at the lens, asking Killian why he didn't just put a camera in the bathroom too. At least then he’d get a private show.

He didn't answer, but the next morning, Lane handed me a box of silk pajamas with a note from Killian: Wear longer pants.

Unbelievable.

Now, I sat at the center of the grand banquet table, staring across the crystal chandeliers at the woman sitting next to Killian.

Camilla Thaddeus.

She was wearing a sleek silk dress in my exact favorite shade of emerald green. When the waiter brought out the dessert, she laughed—a soft, melodic sound that matched my exact rhythm. And when the sommelier approached her, she ordered the exact French wine I drank every single night.

It was sickening. Killian hadn't just picked a fiancée to secure money for the empire. He had chosen a proxy—a mirror image of me.

Killian sat beside her, looking cold and unreadable in his dark suit. But every time Camilla tilted her head or took a sip of her glass, his eyes flicked toward me for a microsecond.

He was playing a sick game, and I was done being his passive audience.

"The beef tenderloin is exquisite tonight, don't you think, Renese?"

The voice came from my right. It was Julian Beaumont, the heir to the Beaumont media empire. He was handsome, arrogant, and hated Killian’s guts.

I turned toward Julian, flashing him a warm, dazzling smile—the kind of smile I hadn't given Killian in years.

"It really is, Julian," I said softly, leaning in a little closer so our shoulders almost brushed. "Though I think the company makes it taste even better."

Julian raised his eyebrows, visibly surprised, before a smirk spread across his face. "Is that so? I was worried you’d be bored sitting next to me."

"Bored?" I laughed, touching his forearm lightly. "Never. You're the most interesting man in this room tonight."

Across the table, the sharp *snap* of crystal filled the air.

I glanced up. Killian had set his glass down so hard the stem almost shattered. The muscle in his jaw flexed so violently I thought his skin would tear. 

"Is something wrong, Killian?" Don Augustus rasped from the head of the table, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Nothing, Father," Killian said, his voice dropping low. He didn't look at his father. He stayed staring straight through my soul. "Just observing."

"Julian," I continued, ignoring Killian’s death glare completely. "You should show me the estate garden later. I hear the roses are blooming."

"I would be honored," Julian purred, resting his hand over mine.

If looks could kill, Julian would have burst into flames right then and there. Killian gripped his steak knife so tightly his knuckles turned paper-white.

Two can play this game, big brother.

"Excuse me," I said gracefully, standing up from the table. "I need to powder my nose."

I slipped into the quiet, marble rest room near the glass conservatory, leaning against the sink to take a breather. My heart was pounding, but the rush of poking the beast was intoxicating.

The door opened and closed with a soft click.

I looked up in the mirror, expecting to see a maid or one of the guards.

Instead, Camilla Thaddeus was standing there.

She wasn't smiling anymore. The delicate, polite heiress persona was gone. She held two full glasses of champagne in her hands, looking exhausted.

She walked straight up to me and thrust one of the glasses into my hand.

"If I have to pretend to be you for one more hour," Camilla said dryly, taking a massive gulp from her own glass, "I’m going to jump off this balcony."

I blinked, completely caught off guard. "What?"

"Oh, please," Camilla snorted, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the marble counter. "Do you think I'm blind? The emerald green dress? The wine? The laugh? My father literally handed me a file on your personal tastes three weeks ago and told me to study it so Killian would accept the match."

I stared at her, my jaw slightly slack. "You know?"

"Of course I know!" Camilla sighed, drinking more champagne. "And frankly, your stepbrother is a terrifying lunatic. He hasn't looked at me once tonight without looking like he wants to slice my throat.”

A slow smile crept onto my face. "You really don't want to marry him?"

"I'd rather marry a toad," she said bluntly. "My father wants his money. Don Augustus wants our banks. Neither of us wants this wedding. So, how do we kill this engagement?"

I clinked my glass against hers, my mind already spinning with plans.

"I think this is the beginning of a great friendship, Camilla," I said.

Ten minutes later, I walked out of the rest room, feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

I noticed one of the guards had switched shifts twenty minutes earlier than usual.

Instead of heading back to the dining room, I walked down the quiet glass corridor leading toward the conservatory. The moonlight streamed through the tall glass panels, casting long shadows across the floor.

I took a breath of the cool air, but before I could take another step, a shadow detached itself from the pillar beside me.

A hand shot out, grabbing my wrist and tugging me straight into the dark conservatory.

Before I could scream, I was shoved back against the cold glass wall.

Killian was towering over me. His dark hair was disheveled, his tie undone, and his eyes were blazing with a raw, terrifying fury that made my skin tingle.

"Killian—"

He reached up, grabbing me firmly by the nape of my neck, tilting my head back until I was forced to look straight into his wild eyes. His thumbs pressed into my jaw, holding me tight.

"You smiled at him, Renese," he growled, his voice a low threat that vibrated straight through my chest.

"He was being nice," I gasped out, my hands coming up to press against his heavy chest, feeling his heart pounding like a war drum.

Killian leaned down, his lips inches from mine, his grip on my neck tightening just enough to take my breath away.

"Do you want me to bury him in the bay tonight?" he whispered coldly. "Because if you touch him again, I swear to God he won't see tomorrow."

"You wouldn't dare!" I rasped.

An evil smirk flashed across his face. "Hm, I've always loved a challenge.”