CHAPTER 6: The Waltz of Lies

The orchestra played something slow and haunting—perhaps Debussy or Satie.

Avalon’s hand rested at her lower back while his other held hers firmly. Selene had no choice but to step closer, able to smell sandalwood mixed with something darker—definitely not the cheap college aftershave. This scent was layered and costly.

Everything about him now seemed expensive, except his eyes. They were the same green that once held wonder. Now, they reflected only winter.

“Relax,” he murmured as they started to dance. “You’re tense. We’re supposed to be newlyweds.”

“That’s quite a performance.”

“Then sell it better.” His thumb traced a circle on her spine, making her body respond involuntarily. “Margaret’s watching. So is Marcus.”

Selene forced herself to relax into his embrace, resting her hand more naturally on his shoulder. “How do I look now?”

“Better.” His voice lowered. “Though you could smile now and then. You look like you’re being held hostage.”

“Aren’t I?”

A flicker of expression crossed his face—almost amused, almost pained. “We both are. The key is whether we’re clever enough to make our captivity seem like freedom.”

The words hit her unexpectedly hard. She lifted her gaze to him, searching his face, but only shadows stared back. Ten years had carved him into a tougher, sharper figure. Yet, if she looked closely enough, she could still find remnants— the faint asymmetry of his smile, the slight tension in his jaw when he was lost in thought, the habitual stroke of his tongue over his teeth when something irked him.

He was doing it now.

“What are you thinking?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

“That you’re still a terrible liar.” His grip on her hand tightened. “Your left eye twitches when you’re not being truthful. It always did.”

Her free hand flew to her face. He caught it gently, brought it back to his shoulder, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

“Case in point,” he said quietly.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re transparent.” His gaze held hers, intense enough to make her want to look away. She forced herself to hold steady. “Ten years, Selene. Ten years of silence. And now you’re back in my arms because my grandmother bribed you with money. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Do you have any idea why I left?”

The question escaped before she could cage it. Avalon’s steps faltered—just for a beat, barely noticeable—before he recovered.

“No,” he said finally. “That’s the problem. You never gave me the chance to know.”

“Maybe some doors are better left closed.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just afraid of what’s on the other side.”

The song shifted, slower now, pulling them closer. Selene could feel the heat of his body through his shirt, could count his heartbeats where her palm rested against his chest. This was dangerous territory. The kind that made her forget this was pretend.

“I built an empire on understanding patterns,” Avalon continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Human behaviour, social connections, algorithms that predict what people want before they know they want it. I can read a room in seconds. Anticipate market trends months in advance. But you?” He shook his head slightly. “You’re the one equation I could never solve.”

“Maybe I’m not meant to be solved.”

“Everything can be solved. Given enough data.” His thumb traced that maddening circle again. “The question is whether you’ll ever give me access to yours.”

Other couples swirled around them—tech executives and their partners, board members assessing their performance, Marcus somewhere in the periphery, his predator’s gaze fixed. But for this moment, Selene felt as if they were alone—just her and Avalon and the music and ten years of everything unsaid.

“There’s something you should know,” he said, breaking the spell. “About Marcus.”

Selene’s attention sharpened. “What about him?”

“He’s been trying to push me out of Nexus for three years. Not obviously. Carefully. Strategic board appointments. Whisper campaigns about my leadership style. Questions about whether someone my age should control that much power.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Nene knew.” His expression hardened. “That’s why she structured the will this way. Not to torture me. To protect what she built. Pierce Holdings owns 40% of Nexus. If Marcus gets control, he’ll sell it. Dismantle everything piece by piece and auction it off.”

“That’s thousands of jobs.”

“Tens of thousands. Including the people who work at companies we’ve invested in. The startups we’ve funded. The infrastructure projects we support.” His hand tightened on her waist. “Marcus doesn’t care about legacy. He cares about liquidation.”

Selene felt the weight of what Avalon was saying settle over her. This wasn’t just about their personal drama. There were real consequences. Real people whose lives depended on them maintaining this charade.

“So we can’t fail,” she said softly.

“No. We can’t.” Avalon’s eyes searched hers. “Which means no matter how much we might hate each other, for the next year, we have to be convincing. We have to be—”

“Perfect,” she finished.

“United,” he corrected. “Perfect is impossible. But united? That we can manage. If we try.”

The song was ending. Other couples were beginning to separate, returning to their tables or heading to the bar. But Avalon didn’t release her. His hand remained at her waist, anchoring her.

“I don’t hate you,” Selene said, the words escaping before wisdom could stop them.

The admission hung between them like smoke. Avalon’s eyes widened fractionally, and for one unguarded moment, she saw past the ice to something raw underneath. Vulnerable. Wanting.

Then he blinked, and the mask slid back into place.

“You should,” he said, his voice rough. “It would make this easier.”

The orchestra began a new song. Avalon finally released her, stepping back with the practised smile he wore for cameras.

“I need a drink,” he said, loud enough for nearby guests to hear. “Coming?”

It wasn’t really a question. Nothing was between them.

 looked up at him, searching his face for answers, saw only shadows. Ten years had hardened him, sharpened him. But if she looked closely, traces remained—the slight asymmetry of his smile, the tightening of his jaw when lost in thought, the habit of running his tongue over his teeth when bothered.

He was doing it now.

“What are you thinking?” she asked before stopping herself.

“That you’re still a terrible liar.” His grip on her hand tightened. “Your left eye twitches when you’re not honest. It always did.”

Her free hand moved to her face, but he gently caught it, pulling it back to his shoulder, lingering longer than necessary.

“Case in point,” he said quietly.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re transparent.” His gaze locked on hers, intense enough to make her want to look away. She held her ground. “Ten years, Selene. Silence for ten years. Now you’re back in my arms because my grandmother paid you. Do you realise how that feels?”

“Do you know why I left?”

The question slipped out before she could stop it. Avalon’s steps faltered—just for a moment, barely noticeable—before he recovered.

“No,” he finally said. “That’s the problem. You never gave me the chance to understand.”

“Maybe some doors are better left closed.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just afraid of what’s on the other side.”

The song slowed, pulling them closer. Selene felt the heat of his body through his shirt and could count his heartbeat against her palm. This was dangerous—the kind of moment that made her forget it was all pretend.

“I built an empire by understanding patterns,” Avalon whispered. “Human behaviour, social connections, and algorithms that predict what people want before they realise it themselves. I can read a room in seconds and anticipate market trends months ahead. But you?” He shook his head. “You’re the one equation I could never solve.”

“Maybe I’m not meant to be solved.”

“Everything is solvable with enough data.” His thumb traced its maddening circle again. “The real question is whether you’ll ever give me access to yours.”

Other couples moved around them—tech executives with their partners, board members assessing their performances, Marcus watching from the sidelines with a predator’s gaze. But for now, it felt like they were alone—just her, Avalon, the music, and ten years of silence.

“There’s something you should know,” Avalon said, breaking the moment. “About Marcus.”

Selene’s focus sharpened. “What about him?”

“He’s been trying to push me out of Nexus for three years. Not openly, but carefully—through strategic board appointments, whisper campaigns about my leadership style, questions about whether someone my age should hold so much power.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Nene knew.” His expression hardened. “That’s why she structured the will that way. Not to torment me, but to protect what she built. Pierce Holdings owns 40% of Nexus. If Marcus gains control, he’ll sell it, dismantling everything and auctioning it off.”

“That means thousands of jobs.”

“Tens of thousands—including those at companies we’ve invested in, startups we’ve funded, infrastructure projects we support.” His grip on her waist tightened. “Marcus doesn’t care about legacy. He cares about liquidation.”

The weight of Avalon’s words settled over her—this wasn’t just their personal drama, but a matter with real consequences for many lives.

“So we can’t fail,” she said softly.

“No, we can’t.” Avalon looked into her eyes. “No matter how much we hate each other, we have to be convincing for the next year. We have to be—”

“Perfect,” she finished.

“United,” he corrected. “Perfect is impossible, but united? That we can manage only if we try.”

The song was ending. Other couples were separating, returning to tables or heading to the bar. But Avalon didn’t let go. His hand stayed at her waist, anchoring her.

“I don’t hate you,” Selene said suddenly, words spilling out before she could think better of it.

The admission hovered like smoke. Avalon’s eyes widened briefly, and for a moment, she saw past his icy mask—something raw, vulnerable, wanting.

Then he blinked, and the mask slid back into place.

“You should,” he said, his voice rough. “It would make this easier.”

The orchestra started a new song. Avalon finally released her, stepping back with her practised, camera-ready smile.

“I need a drink,” he said, loud enough for nearby guests to hear. “Coming?”

It wasn’t really a question. Nothing was.