The Ex

I woke in Adrian’s bed, alone but still wrapped in the scent of him. The linen shirt I’d slept in was twisted around my body, a tangible reminder of the new, suffocating proximity.

Margaret arrived with a breakfast tray and a steely expression. “Mr. Blackwood asked that you eat, Miss Elera. He’s arranged for a stylist to arrive at noon. The gala is this evening.”

The gala.

The day passed in a blur of plucking, primping, and paralyzing anxiety. A team of three women descended, turning me into a version of myself I barely recognized. My skin was buffed, my hair coiled into an intricate, elegant updo, my face painted with a subtle, expensive palette designed to make me look “effortlessly radiant.”

The gown arrived at four.

It was a weapon dressed in silk.

Emerald green, the exact shade of my eyes when I was furious or afraid. The neckline was deceptively modest, but the back plunged to the very base of my spine. It hugged every curve before flaring into a slight, graceful train. It was Adrian’s taste: severe, stunning, and meant to make a statement.

Look, but do not touch.

Adrian entered the dressing suite just as the stylist was fastening the final clasp. He’d been at the office all day. He wore his own armor now—a bespoke tuxedo that fit him like a second skin, the stark black and white making him look both regal and ruthless.

He dismissed the stylist with a nod. The door clicked shut, leaving us alone.

He didn’t speak. He just looked at me, his gaze a slow, comprehensive sweep that felt more invasive than any touch. Heat flooded my cheeks.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice low.

I obeyed, presenting my bare back to him. I felt his presence before I felt his fingers. They brushed the sensitive skin between my shoulder blades, tracing the line of the zip.

“You look…” he began, then stopped. His fingers stilled. “Acceptable.”

The backhanded compliment shouldn’t have stung, but it did.

He finished fastening the clasp, his knuckles grazing my spine. A shiver I couldn’t suppress raced through me.

“Remember what you saw last night,” he murmured, his mouth close to my ear. “Out there, the beasts wear tuxedos and smiles. Their teeth are just as sharp. Do not wander from my side. Do not drink anything I haven’t poured for you. And when you meet Serena Vance,” his hands settled on my bare shoulders, a heavy, possessive weight, “you smile back. You show no fear. You are the woman who took something she wants. Act like it.”

He turned me to face him, his eyes searching mine. “Are you ready?”

No. “Yes.”

“Good.” He offered his arm. Not a request. A command. “Let’s go convince the world.”

---

The Vanderlyn Charity Gala was held in the crystal-draped ballroom of the historic Grand Royale Hotel. A red carpet lined with screaming photographers and glittering onlookers led to the entrance. The flashbulbs were a physical assault, a staccato burst of light and sound.

Adrian’s hand was a firm brand on the small of my back, guiding me, presenting me. He paused for photos, his smile a practiced, dazzling thing that never reached his eyes. He leaned in, his lips brushing my temple for the cameras. “Smile, darling,” he whispered, the endearment a cold bullet against my skin. “They’re watching.”

Inside, the ballroom was a symphony of obscene wealth. Chandeliers dripped crystal, ice sculptures melted over mountains of caviar, and the air hummed with the murmur of a thousand calculated conversations. Every head turned as we entered.

I felt their eyes like physical touches—assessing, curious, hostile. The mystery wife. The nobody. The gold-digger.

Adrian navigated the room with the ease of a king, exchanging terse greetings, introducing me with a curt, “My wife, Elera.” I smiled until my cheeks ached, my hand clenched around the stem of a champagne flute I had no intention of drinking.

Then, I felt the atmosphere shift.

A ripple moved through the crowd near the entrance, a subtle parting of the sea. The murmurs changed, became sharper, more interested.

Adrian’s hand tightened on my back, a silent warning.

She entered like she owned the room, the hotel, the city.

Serena Vance.

She was a vision in ivory silk, her blonde hair a sleek, perfect fall down her back. She moved with a fluid, confident grace, a gentle, welcoming smile gracing her classically beautiful features. She looked like a cameo portrait come to life—soft, elegant, kind.

She made her way toward us, a path clearing before her. People touched her arm, kissed her cheek. She was beloved.

My stomach twisted into a knot of cold dread. Adrian had been right. The facade was flawless.

I couldn't even act up to this person, she looked like an angel.

She stopped before us, her smile widening, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners with apparent warmth. “Adrian,” she said, her voice a melodic, cultured chime. She leaned in and kissed the air beside his cheek, her hand resting lightly on his forearm. A familiar, proprietary gesture. “It’s been too long.”

My stomach turned, something about her proximity with Adrian.

I didn't like it

“Serena.” Adrian’s voice was perfectly polite, utterly devoid of warmth. “I"m sure you heard I got married, this is my wife, Elera.”

I smiled, having practiced this too many times.

Serena’s gaze finally slid to me. The warmth in her eyes didn’t dim, but something behind it shifted, cooled. It was like looking into the eyes of a beautiful, placid lake and sensing the predator lurking in its depths.

“Of course,” she said, extending a graceful hand. Her smile was beatific. “Elera. What an… unusual name. It’s an absolute pleasure to finally meet the woman who captured the most elusive bachelor in the city.” Her grip was firm, her skin cool. “I’ve been so looking forward to welcoming you to our little world.”

Every word was perfectly pitched, perfectly kind. But I heard it. The slight hesitation before “unusual.” The subtle emphasis on “captured.” The gentle condescension of “our little world". I scoffed inwardly, I knew her type of women, and I wasn't about to be her ragdoll.

"The pleasure is mine, Serena. Adrian has told me so much about you.” I let my gaze flicker to Adrian and back, injecting a hint of wifely possessiveness into my smile. Holding his arm more intimately “All good things, of course.”

A lie

A flicker, almost imperceptible, in her serene blue eyes. A tiny crack in the porcelain.

She recovered instantly, tinkling a light laugh. “Oh, I’m sure he has. We had such fun times, didn’t we, darling?” she said to Adrian, squeezing his arm.

“But that’s all in the past, you know, childish pleasures I’m just thrilled he’s found such… happiness.” Her eyes swept over me again. “That color is very bold on you, good choice.”

She was trying so hard to let me know she had Adrian first.

Funny

Cause I had him now

Even if it was just on paper.

“Adrian chose it,” I said smoothly, leaning into his side. “He has such an eye for what suits me.” I purposely fluttered my lashes at him.

Adrian’s arm came around my waist, pulling me closer. “She makes everything look exquisite,” he said, his voice a low rumble. It was the first genuine-sounding thing he’d said all night, and it was directed at her.

Serena’s perfect smile tightened. Just for a second. Then it was back, brighter than ever. “Well, I must circulate. I am hosting, after all. But we’ll talk more later, I hope?” She didn’t wait for an answer. With a final, glittering smile, she drifted away, leaving a cloud of delicate, floral perfume in her wake.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Adrian leaned down, his lips grazing my ear. His voice was a low, approving murmur. “You really sold it.”

“Thanks” I whispered back, my heart still pounding. That was intense.

The orchestra began to play a waltz. Adrian turned to me, taking my hand.

“Now,” he said, leading me to the dance floor as every eye in the room followed us, “we give them a show they’ll never forget.”

As he swept me into the dance, holding me closer than was strictly necessary, I looked over his shoulder. Across the ballroom, standing near a marble column, Serena Vance was no longer smiling. She was watching us, her beautiful face a calm, placid mask. But her eyes, those icy blue eyes, were fixed on Adrian with a look of pure, venom.

I saw it.

The message was clear.

The game was on.