Chapter Five

The first week of Luna's life as Mrs. Vaughn passed in a blur of appearances, lessons, and strained silences. She'd mastered the basics of art restoration or at least faking it, which fork to use at formal meals, and how to pose for photographers while Grayson's hand rested possessively at her hip.

What she had not mastered was how to unravel the enigma of the man she'd unknowingly married.

"Hold still," Emma muttered, pinning Luna's hair into a chic updo. "You have the charity auction tonight."

Luna sighed, watching her transformation in the mirror. "Another night of pretending to be madly in love with the ice king."

"I heard that," said Mrs. Patel, entering with a garment bag. "And I'd advise not calling him that in public."

"I'm not stupid," Luna replied, though there was no spark in her words. Over the past week, she'd developed a peculiar fondness for Mrs. Patel's dry wit and Emma's gentle speech. They were the closest thing she had to friends in this golden cage.

"The Peterson Charity Auction is a big deal," Mrs. Patel continued, unzipping the bag to reveal a stunning emerald gown. "Important people will be there. Especially with the rumors."

Luna's head snapped up. "What rumors?"

Mrs. Patel and Emma exchanged glances.

"What rumors?" Luna demanded.

"That the marriage is fake," Emma blurted, then slapped her hand over her mouth.

Mrs. Patel shot her a chiding look. "What Emma is attempting to say is that some society gossips are marveling at the. suddenness of your union."

"Is that not what we want them to think? Eventually?"

"Eventually, yes. But not now, not while the merger is still being signed." Mrs. Patel helped Luna into the dress, which fit her as if it had been made for her. "Tonight, you must be convincing. The Miyamotos will be there, watching."

Great. More acting. More pretending Grayson's touch hadn't sent confusing shivers down her spine.

"Does he know? About the rumors?"

"Mr. Vaughn is always aware of what people say about him," Mrs. Patel said, fastening the last hook on Luna's dress. "And about those associated with him."

An hour later, Luna descended the staircase of the mansion to find Grayson in the foyer, typing away on his phone. He was wearing a black tuxedo, which made his gray eyes seem even more piercing.

He looked up as she approached him, and for a moment—just a fleeting moment—something like appreciation flickered on his face.

"You look." He paused, seeming to search for the correct word. "Acceptable."

Luna rolled her eyes. "Wow. Such romance. I'm swooning."

The corner of his mouth jerked. "The car's waiting."

The drive to the Peterson Hotel was mostly silent, but Luna caught Grayson glancing at her reflection in the window several times.

"What?" she finally asked.

"You've been avoiding me."

Luna's eyes grew wide with surprise. "We live in different wings of your mansion. You're at work all day. When exactly am I avoiding you?"

"You missed our dinner yesterday."

"I had a headache."

"And the day before that?"

Luna turned toward the window. "I was tired."

The reality was, she'd been avoiding him—after their previous dinner had veered too close to personal territory. After she'd almost told him about Damien. About the bruises. About why she'd actually come to the city.

Grayson hesitated for a moment. "There are rumors," he finally said. "About us."

"I know. Mrs. Patel told me."

"We need to be convincing tonight."

Luna sighed. "I know how to act by now, Grayson."

"Do you?" His tone was oddly soft. "Because every time I touch you, you tense up like you're afraid of me."

Her head snapped in his direction. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

The question hung in the air, too heavy, too sincere. Luna was saved from a reply by their arrival at the hotel.

Camera flashes erupted as they hit the red carpet. Grayson's arm came around her waist, pulling her close to his side. His lips brushed against her temple, a gentle caress that made her breath catch.

"Smile, darling," he breathed into her hair. "Everyone's watching."

Inside, the ballroom glittered with power and wealth. Luna recognized a number of faces from society magazines Mrs. Patel had made her study. The Miyamotos beamed from across the room.

"Don't stray," Grayson said, his warm hand on her lower back.

"Wouldn't dare," she said behind a practiced smile.

They navigated the throng, Grayson introducing her as "my wife" with a possessiveness that felt almost natural. Luna went along, smiling when she was supposed to, touching his arm when he was making a point, leaning into him as if she couldn't bear to be separate.

And somewhere along the way, the line between pretending and feeling began to vanish.

"Dance with me," Grayson said when the orchestra began to play a waltz.

"I don't know how to waltz," she whispered despairingly.

"Follow my lead." He took her hand, drawing her onto the dance floor. "One-two-three, one-two-three. That's it."

His hand rested at her waist, the other holding hers. He danced with the ease of a man who had learned to dance as a boy, moving her effortlessly around the floor.

"Everyone's watching us," Luna whispered.

"Let them watch." His gaze held hers, something unreadable in their depths. "You're doing good, Luna."

Coming from Grayson, it was praise indeed. She smiled—a real smile this time.

"There it is," he breathed.

"What?"

"The smile that doesn't hurt to make."

Luna's heart stuttered. Was he actually seeing her? The real her?

The dance ended, and Grayson's phone buzzed. He frowned at the screen. "I need to take this. Business. Wait here?"

Luna nodded, watching as he cut through the crowd to a quieter corner. Without his commanding presence beside her, she suddenly felt exposed. Vulnerable.

She made her way to the bar, ordering a sparkling water. As she waited, a man slid onto the stool beside her.

"Mrs. Vaughn, I presume?"

Luna spun, plastering on her society smile. "Yes, and you are—"

Her glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor.

Damien Kross smiled back at her, his familiar blue eyes crinkling at the corners like they always did when he was about to lose his temper. Before the pain started.

"Surprised to see me, Luna girl?" he said, using the nickname that once made her heart skip a beat and later made her skin crawl. "You didn't think I'd let you get away that easily, did you?"

Luna's throat tightened in fear. She glanced wildly in the direction Grayson had disappeared, but he was nowhere in sight.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to whisper.

Damien bent closer, his expensive cologne exacerbating her nausea. "I came to bring you home, of course. This little game you're playing—" he gestured around the ballroom, "—is charming. But we both know that you don't belong here."

"Leave me alone," Luna said, louder now. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

His smile hardened. "Oh, but you are. Right now." His fingers closed around her wrist, encircling the only recently healed bruises. "Because if you don't, I'll let your high-class new husband in on exactly who you really are. What you did in Raven Hollow."

Luna's blood went cold. "You wouldn't."

"Try me." Damien stood, pulling her to her feet. "Now smile and walk out with me like a good girl, or I start talking. And believe me, Luna girl—" his voice dropped to a venomous whisper, "—nobody wants that. Especially not you."