Chapter 4 – Beneath the Silk and Shadows

After hours of fittings, silks, and whispered flattery, Asher finally stood.

“That’s enough for today.”

Liara followed him out, her arms empty—every bag already taken by the bodyguards. She didn’t have to lift a finger. It was strange. Almost frightening. The drive back to Kane Tower was charged with a heavy quiet. Liara’s reflection in the tinted window looked regal—poised in silk that clung to her curves—but her heart felt brittle. Every time she stole a glance at Asher, he stared straight ahead, jaw set, as though he’d dismissed the boutique staff but was still processing something deeper.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you—for what you did back there.”

He didn’t look at her. “You shouldn’t have been humiliated.”

She traced the edge of her new clutch. “I don’t know how to be… yours.”

His grip on her hand tightened. “You don’t need to know yet.”

Liara nodded, though the words stung with more questions than answers. The car ride was quiet, tension hanging between them like fogged glass.

“We’re home,” Asher said flatly.

Home.

The word didn’t belong to her yet. They stepped into a penthouse that screamed understated power—cold marble floors, floor-to-ceiling glass windows, shadows and silence. Everything was dark, sharp, masculine.

Before Liara could begin exploring, a composed voice interrupted.

“Sir,” said a silver-haired butler who emerged from a hallway. “There’s a dinner tonight at the Kane mansion. The Chairman has requested your presence. And hers.”

Liara’s stomach twisted.

Asher barely reacted. “Of course he did.” He turned to her. “We’ll leave by eight.”

The butler bowed slightly and disappeared.

Liara blinked. “We’re… going to your family’s home?”

“Yes,” Asher said. “You’ll meet the people who control half this city.”

“And pretend we’re madly in love?” she asked, voice dry.

He didn’t smile. “No. We won’t pretend anything. They’ll believe what I want them to .

He left her to change.

Liara stood in the vast bedroom, the silence pressing in like velvet. A soft garment bag lay draped across the bed—inside, the dress the stylist had deemed her “debut into power.” Midnight blue silk, off-shoulder, cinched at the waist with a back that dipped low enough to make her pause.

She slipped into it slowly, the cool silk molding to her body like it had always belonged there.

A maid entered quietly, hands holding a silver box.

“These were prepared for you, madam,” she said gently, setting the box down.

Liara opened it to find jewelry—diamonds like water and light. A necklace that draped across her collarbone like moonlight, with matching earrings delicate enough to whisper class, not shout it.

As Liara fastened them on with trembling fingers, the maid stepped back and gave a small, stunned smile.

“You look… breathtaking,” she said softly, almost reverently. “Like someone who was born to be worshipped.”

Liara’s breath caught. She turned toward the mirror, and for the first time, didn’t look away from her own reflection.

She wasn’t sure who this woman was—wearing Kane diamonds and couture silk—but she could see it now. The illusion. The power.

She thanked the maid quietly, then stepped into the living room.

Asher was by the bar, buttoning the cuff of his black suit jacket. He turned—and froze.

Everything in him went still.

The man who never blinked, who wielded silence like a weapon, stood caught in it.

Liara hesitated at the doorway. “Is it too much?” she asked softly, touching the necklace as if it burned.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes moved over her—slowly, deliberately—as though he were memorizing her. Not just her body in that dress, but her presence. Her rise.

“You look…” he exhaled, voice low, raw, “devastating.”

The word hit something deep. It wasn’t praise. It was surrender.

He moved toward her, one step, then two. His fingers reached up to tuck a curl behind her ear, brushing the skin near her earring.

She didn’t breathe.

“I thought you said I needed fixing,” she whispered.

His eyes flickered. “I did,” he murmured. “But maybe you just needed to be seen.”

Liara blinked. “Is that… a compliment?”

He stepped closer, the distance between them tightening like a thread pulled taut. “It’s a warning.”

Her breath hitched. “Warning?”

“That dress will get us in trouble.”

She smirked softly, nerves masked behind the curl of her lips. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have let me choose it.”

A flash of something darker—possessive, primal—lit his gaze. But he didn’t answer.

The moment stretched, fragile and sharp.

Then—as though remembering who he was—he straightened, slipping back into armor.

“We’re late.”

Instead, he offered his arm.

“Shall we?”

But the way he offered his arm was different now. Not like a command.

Like an invitation.

And Liara, draped in silk and stars, took it—knowing full well this world might worship her… or ruin her.

Maybe both.