6. DINING WITH DIGNITARIES

As they settled into the luxurious seats, Chelsea realized that Davis wasn't with them. "Is… Davis coming later?" she asked Amber, trying to hide her disappointment.

"He's meeting you at the event," Amber replied, smiling. "But first, we're going to get you ready for the night. You're going to look stunning, I promise."

The car pulled away smoothly leaving the curious stares behind.

The car drove them to a posh salon, and the next few hours felt unreal.

Chelsea was ushered into a luxury spa. Here, Chelsea was to be pampered with a princess skincare treatment and styled to perfection. Her scrubs were replaced with a silk robe. Skilled hands worked over her skin, her hair, her nails. Everything was soothed, polished, reimagined.

 She felt like royalty as the stylists worked their magic, and when they finished, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her in the mirror.

The dress Amber had chosen for her was a stunning red gown that hugged her curves in all the right places. Chelsea felt expensive as she slipped into the dress and let the stylists do the final touches on her hair and makeup.

Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and she looked elegant. Quietly breathtaking.

It wasn't hard for Amber to see how easily Davis found this beautiful woman attractive.

The book launch was already in full swing when they arrived. Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. The room was filled with beautiful people, all dressed to the nines, cameras flashed. Laughter echoed. The air buzzed with influence and excess, and she felt a surge of nervousness.

And then she saw him.

Davis stood near the entrance, dressed in a black suit that fit him like it had been stitched onto his body. He looked dashing and powerful. Effortless. Entirely at home.

  He caught her eye, and Chelsea felt a flutter in her chest and her nerves dissipating.

For a brief moment, the confident CEO faltered.

Chelsea watched his eyes darken, appreciation unmistakable, satisfaction blooming openly across his face. He approached her slowly.

“You look…” He stopped, then smiled. “Exactly how I imagined.”

She didn’t know how to respond.

He offered his arm. She hesitated only a second before taking it.

Inside, the attention intensified. Chelsea couldn't help but notice how people stared openly now. It was obvious how prominent Davis was among these guests. Greetings followed them. Davis moved with pride, stopping to greet important personalities, introducing her when necessary, his hand resting possessively at the small of her back.

As they made their way through the crowd, Davis's mother approached them. Mrs. Dylan was elegant in a way that felt sharp rather than warm. Her eyes flicked over Chelsea with quick calculation. She had a smile, but Chelsea could sense the underlying tension.

"Davis, darling," she said. "I see you've brought another...friend."

Chelsea stiffened from the woman's words, but Davis just laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Mother, this is Chelsea. Gorgeous, isn't she?"

His mother raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to Chelsea's revealing dress. "I'm sure she is," she said dryly. "Just be careful, Davis. You know how the press can be."

“Of course,” Davis replied smoothly. “I’m always careful.”

She shook her head slightly, unconvinced. Davis sensed she was going to switch to her next favourite topic: Elena. He quickly changed the subject. “So you said you are here with one of the Kane Sisters. I would like to say hello.” With that, he smoothly redirected her, steering her away with practiced ease.

Another friend.

Chelsea felt horrible. As long as his mother was concerned she was concerned she was just a glorified hooker.

She was here for a favor. Even if she hadn’t wanted this, the truth stung. Her parents didn’t know. Her mother lay fighting for her life while Chelsea stood in borrowed glamour, feeling dirty and out of place.

As Davis laughed and mingled with familiar friends amid soft cocktail music, Chelsea excused herself to grab a drink. She felt a little relieved to be out of his possessive hold - at least for the moment. That's when she bumped into Lucas Kings.

“Oh—sorry,” she said automatically, then froze.

Lucas Kings.

Her breath caught. “You’re… you’re Lucas Kings. I love your books,” she blurted out. “I’ve read all of them.”

His eyes lit up. “That’s dangerous information.”

She laughed, nerves dissolving into excitement.

“Who are you here with?” Lucas asked.

“Davis...Davis Dylan. Your cousin.”

“Ah, he always gets the beautiful one," Lucas said warmly.  Chelsea beamed in appreciation. “Who are you here with?” She returned his question.

Lucas shrugged. “Just a few of my books.” He took a sip from his wine glass and tilted it at her. “Which is your favourite?”

“ Crabs and Scorpions,” Chelsea replied brightly.

They talked—about characters, about endings, about the courage it took to write truthfully. Lucas was charming, genuine, clearly delighted by her enthusiasm.

“You’re the kind of fan an author should have,” he said. 

Chelsea flushed. For the first time that night, she felt seen. It was one thing to be admired by many, it was another when your favourite author complimented your passion.

Then a hand closed around her waist sending shivers down her spine. 

Davis stood beside tall and bold as if he had appeared out of nowhere. 

Before Chelsea could react, Davis pulled her into a kiss, his lips claiming hers in a passionate, public display. 

Chelsea froze, shock exploding through her veins. But it was soon distracted by the softness of his lips and she was drowning in his kiss, clinging to his arm to keep from melting. 

Only when he pulled away did she stare at him—hurt, offended, but with shameful yearning in her eyes.

Her whispered words trembled. “What are you doing?”

Davis just smiled, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “You are kind of hard to resist from any view.”  His voice was low and possessive.

And in that moment, Chelsea realized—

This arrangement was far more dangerous than she had imagined.