The Engagement Party

Alessandro’s POV

The message burned in my pocket like a live coal.

A blurry image. Me. Shirtless. With Micah.

I couldn’t breathe. Who sent it? I looked around to see if there was anyone smirking or way too interested in what was happening, but there was none. Just people laughing and toasting with their champagne glasses like nothing was up. 

I wanted to scream.

I thought about telling Micah. But his smirking face and shrugs came to mind, and I dead the thought down. If he thought it was a game, he’d treat it like one. This wasn’t a game. This was my life. My future.

I continued my walk with heavy steps.

The ballroom had gold chandeliers dripping light onto polished marble floors. The tables were dressed in white silk, each with a rose and crystal glass. The room was glowing. Cameras flashed as the elite of New York poured in politicians, billionaires, CEOs. Laughter bounced off the walls like music.

Sandra who is the star of the ballroom stood at the centre wearing a stunning emerald gown that fitted her. Her hair was flawless and her smile bright. A perfect mask. Everyone was doting on her as she raised her glass to those congratulating her, while they whispered about how lucky I was.

Lucky.

I felt trapped.

Then there was Micah. Across the room wearing a dark suit with a black tie. The picture of elegance and danger rolled into one. He did not smile for the cameras, but his eyes, his damn eyes, kept finding me. Taunting.

I looked away first. Of course I did.

The whispers started near the champagne tower. Two women in sequins leaned close, voices sharp as knives.

“They say his father forced a marriage once before.”

“Another merger, another sacrifice. These families never change.”

My hands curled around my glass. My throat burned. Were they talking about me? About my father? About how I was just another pawn?

I tried to shake it off. Then chaos arrived.

A man ran through the double doors with a flushed face. Sandra’s ex. I knew him from a photo I had seen once; a tall, scruffy mess in a crumpled suit, clearly drunk. He shoved past waiters, nearly knocking over the champagne tower, and pointed straight at Micah.

“You!” His voice trembled. “You think you are better than me?”

The room went still.

Micah raised his glass slowly. “Clearly, yes.”

Nervous laughter shook the room, but the ex was not laughing. He suddenly lunged at Micah, grabbing him by the collar, and gasps echoed around the room.

I froze. My body screamed to move, to stop it, but Sandra slipped her arm through mine, holding me back like a chain.

“Stay out of it,” she whispered, too calm.

Micah did not flinch. He bent towards the man’s ear and whispered something sharp. Whatever it was, it made the ex’s face crumple with rage. He swung a fist.

Micah caught it. Effortlessly.

“You are boring me,” Micah said with no emotion as he twists the man’s wrist until he screamed. “Leave. Before I break you in front of everyone.”

Security rushed in, dragging the ex out, kicking and cursing. The crowd erupted into nervous chatter again, pretending nothing happened. But my heart hammered against my ribs. Micah’s eyes lifted across the room, straight to me. And for a split second, I saw it. Not the smirk. Not the taunt. But something raw. Protective.

I looked away again.

“Alessandro.”

The voice made me spin. Nicole. My best friend. My anchor. She wore a sleek silver dress, hair pinned back, smile soft but guarded.

“You’re late,” I muttered, too shaken to hide it.

“Traffic,” she said, slipping beside me. Her eyes scanned the room, too quickly, before landing on me again. “You look… tired.”

“That’s one word for it.”

She moved closer, dropping her voice. “Be careful with this family, Ale. They’re hiding more than you think.”

My blood ran cold.

I gripped her arm. “What do you mean? Do you know something?”

She shook her head. “No. Not yet. I just do not like how they move and how they watch you.”

Her eyes flicked toward Sandra, then Micah. Then back to me.

Before I could press, someone else cut in.

“Alessandro.”

Micah. Of course.

He pulled me away, more like dragged me away, from Nicole, into a shadowed corner not far from the balcony. The way his hand gripped my wrist was enough to set my nerves on fire.

“You’re jumpy,” he said smoothly.

“Gee, I wonder why,” I hissed. “Maybe because your family is insane? Maybe because your sister’s ex just tried to knock you out in front of three hundred guests?”

Micah tilted his head, studying me. “You are not worried about me. You are worried about yourself. What is going on?”

I glared. “Stop poking.”

He leaned closer, so close I could feel his breath. “Everything about you is my business.”

“Stop.” My chest heaved. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to corner me. You don’t get to…”

“Do what? Do you want me to remind you of last night?” His eyes flicked down my body, slow and deliberate. “How badly you wanted me… and how badly you still do?”

“Shut up.” My voice shaking. I pushed him by his chest, but he did not move.

“You can lie to them,” he whispered, “but you cannot lie to me.”

My entire body trembled. Part anger. Part truth. Mostly fear.

“Let me go,” I said.

Micah stepped back, finally, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. “One day, Alessandro. You’ll stop running.”

I staggered back into the light, pretending my lungs weren’t on fire. Sandra glided toward me, perfect and unreadable, slipping her arm through mine again. Cameras flashed. People clapped. The image of a golden couple.

My phone buzzed.

I glanced down. Another message.

This time, the photo was not blurry.

Crystal clear. Me and Micah and in bed. Sheets tangled. Skin flushed. Faces unmistakable.

The caption:

“Congratulations on your engagement. Wonder what they’ll say when this leaks?”

The phone nearly slipped from my hand.

My chest caved in.

Someone wasn’t just watching. Someone was waiting.

And I was running out of time.