Chapter 3 The Stage Is Set

Christian’s POV

The man spoke before I could.

“Babe,” he said lightly, nudging his girlfriend with a small laugh, “that’s not something you ask people like that. It’s obvious they’re in love.” I felt Zoey tense against me even before she tried to pull away. The woman did not back down; she looked at me directly now, her earlier softness gone, replaced with a sharper, more assessing gaze. She tilted her head slightly, lips curving in that polite-but-dangerous way some women had when they sensed a crack in the story.

“So,” she said, eyes steady on mine, “are you really engaged… or is this just something you’re doing for tonight?”

The question landed heavy and I felt it press against my chest. For a split second, I understood why Zoey had dragged me into that kiss, why she panicked, and why she hated being caught between truth and performance. I breathed in slowly, then I composed myself the way I always did in boardrooms, in negotiations, and in rooms full of men who thought money made them untouchable. My hand tightened slightly on Zoey’s waist, not to claim her, but to ground myself.

I met the woman’s eyes directly. “My relationship is not a performance,” I said, my voice smooth, low, and completely unbothered. “If you’re asking whether I love her, the answer is yes. If you’re asking whether I owe you proof of that, the answer is no.”

There was a brief silence and her smile wavered just a little. Her boyfriend let out a small, impressed chuckle. “See?” he said, glancing at her. “That’s how you answer nosy questions.” She recovered quickly, but I could see it- she was out of depth now. She had tried to poke, and I had closed the door cleanly.

“Well,” she said, softer this time, “you’re lucky to have each other.” Zoey smiled tightly beside me. “Thank you,” she said. They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then finally moved on, drifting back toward the main hall.

The moment they were out of sight, Zoey pulled away from me like I had burned her. Her hand left my suit instantly and she stepped back, putting space between us while wrapping her arms around herself. “That was too much,” she said, her voice suddenly sharp and breathless.

I turned to face her. “You kissed me,” I reminded her calmly.

“I panicked,” she shot back. “There’s a difference.” She looked rattled now- not angry, but unsettled in a way that made her eyes brighter and her breathing quicker. “I don’t feel comfortable anymore,” she continued. “I want to go home.”

Something tightened in my chest. “It’s not time to go home,” I said. Her head snapped up and she stared at me like I had just insulted her. “Since when did you become the one who makes decisions for me?” she asked, her voice sharper now with a real bite.

I held her gaze. “Since you hired a man you didn’t actually know and walked into a room full of people who would eat you alive if you slipped once,” I replied evenly. “You wanted a performance. You’re still on stage.”

She opened her mouth to snap back, and then we heard him- Julian. His voice carried clearly through the hallway, amplified by the microphone inside the ballroom. “Good evening, everyone.”

Zoey’s shoulders stiffened instantly. I turned slightly, listening. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight,” Julian continued, warm, polished, and perfect. “This event means more to me than you know.”

Zoey’s jaw tightened. Without thinking too much, I stepped closer to her and gently took her hand again. She tried to pull away, but I didn’t let her. “Let’s go inside,” I said quietly.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered.

“You need to,” I replied.

She shot me a glare, but I was already guiding her toward the doors, my hand firm but not rough. We slipped back into the ballroom, standing near the edge of the crowd where we could see Julian clearly but not be the center of attention. He stood on the raised stage, microphone in hand, looking every bit the charming, self-made man the press loved. His suit was immaculate, his smile was practiced, and his confidence filled the room.

Zoey went rigid beside me. Her fingers curled slightly in mine, not pulling away this time, just holding on. Julian’s eyes scanned the crowd and then they found us. For a split second, something flashed across his face- surprise, maybe, or irritation- then he masked it with that same smooth smile. He held our gaze for a heartbeat too long before continuing.

Zoey leaned toward me. “I don’t like this,” she murmured. “We should leave.”

I glanced down at her. Her face was pale, her eyes restless, and her posture tight like she was ready to bolt. “Not yet,” I said quietly.

She looked up at me, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

She scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You wanted to make a statement,” I reminded her. “Running now makes it look like fear.”

Her eyes flashed. “This isn’t a game to me.”

“It isn’t to me either,” I replied.

She opened her mouth to argue again, and I saw it- that familiar fire, that stubborn streak that made her dangerous and fascinating all at once. We started whispering at each other, low and tense.

“This is humiliating,” she hissed.

“No, it’s power,” I said.

“You don’t get to tell me what I feel.”

“And you don’t get to sabotage yourself.”

She glared at me. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

A couple standing beside us glanced over and the man cleared his throat. “Uh… are you two okay?”

Zoey froze. I turned toward them instantly, a smile sliding into place like a mask I wore too well. “Perfect,” I said smoothly. “We just disagree about whose turn it is to apologize.” The man blinked, clearly confused. I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice in that charming way people found disarming. “She’s always right. I’m just slow to admit it.”

His girlfriend laughed softly and Zoey shot me a look that clearly said ‘you’re impossible.’ I met her gaze briefly and smiled.

Julian’s voice pulled our attention back. “…and while this event is about the future,” he continued, “I would be lying if I said my past did not shape me.”

Zoey stiffened again beside me. I watched Julian carefully now. He rested one hand casually in his pocket, his tone shifting into something more reflective and personal. “There was a time in my life when I thought I had everything figured out,” he said. “Love, success, family. But life has a funny way of humbling you.”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd and Zoey’s grip on my hand tightened without her realizing it.

“That past relationship taught me patience,” Julian went on. “It taught me responsibility. It taught me that growth comes from pain, not comfort.” No one knew he was talking about her; no one knew the woman he had left standing alone at an altar was in this very room, right beside me.

My jaw tightened just slightly. Julian’s gaze flicked toward us again and that wry smile returned. He straightened, shifting back into host mode. “Tonight, I want to thank the people who believed in me,” he said, his voice warm again. “My investors. My partners. My family.”

He began calling out names one by one and polite applause followed each. Then he paused. His eyes found Zoey again and held her. His smile softened, but not kindly.

“Zoey Aguilar,” he said into the microphone. “A good friend of mine.”

Zoey sucked in a breath beside me. The room shifted slightly, curious but unaware. Julian lifted his hand, gesturing toward her. “I want to ask that she joins me up here.”