Seven

NADIA POV

I was still trying to convince myself that the dress wasn’t a terrible idea when Mrs. Collins came back to help me with the zipper.

Getting into it was one thing. Getting the damn thing to stay in place was another. The neckline left very little to the imagination, and the slit seemed determined to climb higher every time I moved. By the time I was done with my makeup and had put on the jewellery Drew had sent, I stood in front of the mirror wondering if I should have asked him to send something with a little more fabric.

The woman staring back at me looked nothing like the Nadia Ellis who had been buried alive a few months ago. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, the diamonds at her neck catching the light whenever she moved. The green gown hugged my body in all the right places, and the heels made my legs look longer than they actually were.

I looked beautiful. And a part of me was glad and another part hated it.

“Miss, the car is ready,” Mrs. Collins called.

I took one last look at myself before leaving the room. “If I trip in these shoes, please pretend you don’t know me.”

Mrs. Collins smiled. “You’ll do just fine, miss.”

I hoped she was right. The moment I reached the bottom of the staircase, I spotted Drew waiting near the entrance. He was dressed in a black suit, his tie perfectly straight, his hands resting at his sides. He looked as though he had been carved into the suit, every detail in place, every inch of him annoyingly composed.

Then his eyes found me. He didn’t say anything. He simply watched as I walked down the remaining steps, his gaze moving over the dress before settling on my face. His expression remained blank, giving nothing away, but there was something about the way he looked at me that sent a shiver down my spine.

I wasn’t sure whether it was the coldness in his eyes or the fact that I suddenly felt far too aware of the dress I was wearing.

When I reached the last step, he spoke. “I picked the right dress,” he said softly.

A smile found its way to my lips. “Yeah, perfect for showing skin.”

His gaze lingered a moment longer before he stepped closer. “Shall we?” He stretched out his hand.

I looked at it, then at him. “Is there a need for you to be this gentlemanly? Or is it part of the role too?”

“You ask too many damn question.”  I placed my hand in his, and his fingers closed around mine. His grip was firm, warm against my skin. I tried not to think about how easily he could make me feel nervous without saying a word.

“Try not to step on my dress,” I said as we headed towards the door.

“Try not to trip.” He muttered in my ears.  He opened the door and guided me outside, where the car waited under the porch lights. The driver stood beside it, ready to open the door, but Drew didn’t release my hand until I was safely inside.

I settled into the seat, careful not to let the slit expose more than it already had. Drew got in beside me, and the door closed, leaving us alone in the quiet of the car.

I glanced at him. “So, what exactly am I supposed to do tonight?”

“Smile. Be pleasant. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

I turned towards him. “You sent me a dress that could stop traffic, and now you’re telling me not to draw attention?”

His mouth shifted slightly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You’ll manage.” I looked out of the window, wondering how a man could be so infuriating and still make my heart behave like an idiot.

The car slowed as we approached the entrance of the charity ball. A line of luxury cars stretched along the driveway, their headlights lighting up the grand building ahead. Guests in expensive gowns and tailored suits were already making their way inside, while photographers waited behind the barriers, calling out names whenever someone familiar stepped out.

I looked through the window, suddenly aware of how tight my fingers had curled around my clutch.

This was it. My first public appearance as Isabella Callahan.

The car came to a stop, but Drew didn’t move to open the door. He sat beside me, his attention fixed on the entrance, and the quiet between us began to feel heavier than it had during the drive.

“One more thing.” I turned towards him. His face was serious now, the kind of serious. “He’s going to be in there.”

“Who?” I asked, though the look on his face had already given me the answer.

Evan.

My stomach tightened. I looked towards the entrance again, but the faces gathered beneath the bright lights blurred together.

Drew’s voice brought my attention back to him. “I want you to rememe who you are . You’re Isabella Callahan. My wife. Not Nadia Ellis.” He leaned closer, his voice low and firm. “And that alone gives you power. So show that son of a bitch what it means to be a Callahan.”

I looked at him, the words settling somewhere deep inside me.

For months, I had imagined seeing Evan again. I had imagined the things I would say, the look on his face when he realised I was alive, and the satisfaction of watching him understand that he hadn’t managed to destroy me.

But I had never imagined doing it like this… not this soon.

I drew in a slow breath and straightened my shoulders. “And what if I mess this up and crash out?”

Drew held my gaze. “You won’t.” There was no hesitation in his answer. No doubt.

I glanced down at my hand, still resting in his, then looked back at him.

“Even if you do crash out,” he said, his voice dropping, “you’re my wife. No one would dare look down on you. Not unless they’re willing to risk having their head chopped off.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Thank you.”

He held my gaze for another moment before saying, “Come on. Let’s give them something worth talking about.” His voice softened. “You look far too beautiful tonight to spend a single moment worrying about that bastard.”