My New Role

“Ethan,” I whispered, my voice like a frantic, disbelieving hiss in his ear. It was an accusation, a question, a plea for him to explain what he had just done.

 My entire body was vibrating with a shock so profound that it felt like I'd been struck by lightning. Ethan, however, felt unbothered. He just smiled, a small, triumphant curve of his lips, as he brought my hand to his face and brushed it with a kiss. The gesture was so intimate, so possessive, that it made my stomach flip. It was a lie for the public, but the feeling of his lips, soft and warm against my knuckles, was terrifyingly real. He wasn't just claiming me. He was branding me.

“ What we did inside is a magic Norah , I can't trade it for anything” said Ethan, his voice a low, husky rumble meant only for me. The words were a private secret in a public space, and the audacity of it stole my breath. My knees felt weak. 

If only Ethan could stop bringing the restroom sex up, I thought, with a desperate, silent scream in my mind. The memory of his hands on me, his mouth on my skin, made my cheeks flush with a heat that was terrifyingly real. I felt like drowning immediately but I was distracted by the sheer chaos of the moment.

An applause roared in the hall. It was a deafening sound, a wave of approval that crashed over us. So many presses started capturing the moment while I kept my face down, not wanting to make eye contact with cameras there. 

Each flash that lit around Ethan and his father felt like a punch. It wasn’t just any applause. It was an approval. Approval of the lie. Approval of my new identity. Approval of my place, standing beside Ethan Malcovich, the man whose family destroyed everything I ever loved. 

Norman had always loved the spotlight. Years ago, when he was interviewed, he smiled and talked about his son’s future marriage plans. He said publicly that he was preparing Ethan, grooming him for a strong, supportive wife and someone to elevate the Malcovich name. Tonight, by introducing me as "fiancée," Ethan handed Norman exactly what he wanted, which was a perfect image of a family.

And yet, it wasn’t part of my plan. It wasn't how I had planned it. But it worked. I also needed that image, I needed his attention, his trust, to infiltrate their world deeper than ever before. I glanced at Ethan. He was laughing with his business associate, calm and powerful, with that easy spark in his eyes. The crowd had gathered around, the journalists, photographers, clients. They were all closing in, hanging on to every smile, and every word.

I retreated to the corner, right beside the balcony entrance. From here, I could see the glamorous hall with its grand chandeliers and velvet drapes. I could smell the mix of perfume, champagne, and polished wood. All of it felt fake, but I had to play along. My hand moved to the tiny mic tucked in my hair. It was still connected through a nearly invisible wire, running down my neck and under the dress. I pressed the wire and waited as I heard a soft click.

“Did you just see what happened?” I whispered.

 There was a pause. Then Emily sighed, a relief and excitement mingling in her voice. “Finally, Aria. You finally decided to talk to me!” 

I rolled my eyes and exhaled. “Come on, Emily. Did you just see what happened in the hall?”

 She paused like she was trying not to scream in excitement. "I saw everything, Aria," she said. "Just the way I planned it." Her words made me freeze. 

"Planned what? What did you plan?" I asked slowly, suspicion crawling into my chest like a spider.

 Emily giggled, and it made me want to slap something. "Just the way I planned it in my head, Aria… Stop being dramatic and too serious" I closed my eyes. That was Emily. Always dramatic. Always half-joking, even when we were walking on a blade. 

“Silly,” I muttered. She laughed softly, then fell silent. Before I could press more, a familiar voice slipped behind me. Smooth. So Quiet and Too close. 

“What are you doing here, my love?” I froze. Ethan. He was right behind me.