The Gala game

The flash of cameras hit Jesse like a wave as soon as they stepped onto the red carpet.

He tightened his grip on Alina's waist. It was all for show, of course-just part of the performance. But the feel of her beside him, the heat of her skin beneath that silk dress, didn't feel like just business.

Alina didn't flinch under the lights. Her gown shimmered like molten gold, hugging every line of her frame, her makeup flawless, expression icy and unreadable.

She whispered out of the side of her mouth, "Smile like I'm telling you a secret, and do not say anything unless I cue you."

"Roger that," Jesse murmured, pasting on a grin. "You're the boss, darling."

She gave him a side-eye so sharp it could've sliced diamonds-but her hand stayed exactly where it was, resting lightly on his chest as they posed.

The Annual Sterling Foundation Gala was held in the ballroom of the Lexington Hotel-a place so rich, even the chandeliers looked like they had their own trust funds. Socialites, CEOs, and billionaires filled the room like it was a chessboard of power.

As they walked through the crowd, Jesse noticed how people stared at them-curious, skeptical, sometimes even impressed.

"Who's that?" he overheard someone whisper.

Alina leaned in just enough to sell the intimacy. "This is where they either fall for the lie, or try to expose it."

He chuckled quietly. "You're really having fun with this."

"I don't have fun," she replied. "I win."

They stopped when a woman with red lips and too much old money in her bones stepped up.

"Alina," the woman purred. "And... this must be the fiancé?"

"Jesse Kane," Alina said coolly. "My future husband."

The woman gave him a once-over. "How charmingly... rugged."

"Built my own fence once," Jesse said, offering a grin. "Real romantic stuff."

Alina's elbow pressed just slightly into his ribs. He was learning her silent language now-don't push it.

They made the rounds, dancing the social waltz of fake laughs and handshake diplomacy. But somewhere between champagne flutes and charity pledges, Jesse caught her looking at him.

Not professionally. Not critically.

Just... looking.

"You okay?" he asked, voice low.

She blinked, almost surprised he noticed. "You clean up better than I expected."

"You mean I'm passing the test?"

She hesitated, then gave a small nod. "You're not completely hopeless."

The music changed. A slow, elegant waltz.

Jesse held out his hand. "Dance with me. Make them believe."

Alina stared at him like he'd asked for a classified document-but then she took his hand.

And when they stepped onto the floor, moving together in perfect rhythm under chandeliers and judgmental eyes, the line between lie and reality began to blur.

****

The car was quiet on the way home.

Not awkward quiet-just... soft. Like neither of them wanted to be the first to break the spell that had started on that ballroom floor.

Alina sat back against the leather seat of her sleek black Maybach, eyes half-lidded, heels off, legs curled under her. Jesse watched the city lights dance across her face like gold confetti.

"You did well tonight," she said finally, her voice low, almost thoughtful. "Better than expected."

Jesse gave a small smile. "So I passed your little billionaire test?"

She didn't answer right away. "You didn't embarrass me. That's more than most men in tuxedos can say."

He laughed quietly, his voice more genuine than she'd heard it all night. "You know, you're different when you're not wearing your armor."

She looked over at him, caught off guard. "Armor?"

"Yeah," he said, turning to face her. "That steel tone, the way you walk like you own every room. Don't get me wrong-it's hot. But I see past it."

Her lips parted slightly.

"I see a woman who's scared of needing anyone," Jesse added, softer now. "Because people let her down."

The air between them shifted.

No one had ever said that to her. Not even the people who'd known her for years. She swallowed, not quite ready to admit he was right.

But then she did something she rarely did-she leaned toward him, just a little.

"Maybe I am scared," she murmured. "But you're not supposed to see that."

"And yet," Jesse said with a slow grin, "here we are."

The car turned into the estate's gates, and for one insane second, Alina thought about leaning in. About closing that distance. About maybe-maybe-forgetting the contract.

But then Marcus, the house manager, was at the front steps. Waiting. Pale.

"Miss Sterling," he said as the car door opened. "You need to see this. Right now."

Alina's heart dropped. "What is it?"

He handed her a sleek black tablet.

A news article was on the screen.

"Fake Fiancé? Jesse Kane's Troubled Past Exposed – Fraud Charges, Eviction Records, and a Mysterious Disappearance."

Jesse leaned over and saw the headline just as her expression went cold.

Her voice, when it came, was steel again. "Is this true?"

Jesse opened his mouth-but nothing came out fast enough.

And just like that, the glass slipper shattered.