Chapter 8

ARIA

“Miss Sinclair, left hand on the railing, please. We want to showcase the ring.”

I place my hand where directed. The diamond catches the morning sun, throwing prisms of light.

“Beautiful,” the photographer murmurs, clicking away. “Now, Mr. Ashford, if you could lean in slightly, like you’re whispering something to her...”

Dante’s breath is warm against my ear as he leans close. To anyone watching, it looks intimate and romantic.

“Smile, fiancée,” he murmurs, his voice is low enough that only I can hear. “Very soon, Marcus Kane will be seeing these photos. I want him to choke on his morning coffee.”

The vindictive pleasure in his words makes me smile. A real smile that is sharp and satisfying.

The camera clicks rapidly.

“Perfect!” the photographer calls. “That’s the one. The chemistry is incredible.”

If only he knew. This isn’t chemistry. This is mutually assured destruction dressed up as a love story.

We spend the next thirty minutes in various poses. Dante’s arm around my shoulders. My hand on his chest. He looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world while I gaze adoringly back.

We’re both excellent liars.

“One more,” the photographer says. “Mr. Ashford, could you kiss her? Just something soft and romantic for the more intimate publications.”

My heart stutters. We haven’t kissed yet, not when I am not influenced by alcohol. Last night was raw and desperate and dominated by other sensations.

Dante’s hand comes up to cup my jaw, tilting my face toward his. His ice-blue eyes search for mine, and I see the question there.

I give the smallest nod.

His lips meet mine, and the world narrows to this single point of contact. The kiss is soft, almost tender...nothing like the dominant, demanding man from last night. It’s the kind of kiss that looks perfect in photographs. The kind that sells fairy tales.

But beneath the gentleness, I feel his restraint. The leashed power. The promise of what he could do to me if we weren’t being watched.

When he pulls back, I’m breathless.

The camera has captured it all.

“Magnificent,” the photographer sighs. “The Times is going to eat this up. Young, beautiful, and clearly in love, the Ashford bachelor is finally settling down. It’s a publicist’s dream.”

Love. The word feels foreign and wrong.

“We’re done?” Dante asks, already shifting back to business mode.

“Yes, sir. I’ll have the pictures sent to you within the hour, and we’ll release the approved images by this afternoon as planned.”

The entourage files out efficiently, leaving Dante and me alone on the terrace. The morning sun is climbing higher, warming the stone beneath my feet.

“Hungry?” Dante asks.

I realize I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since... God, yesterday’s lunch.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He guides me back inside to a dining area I hadn’t noticed. A breakfast spread is already laid out...fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, bacon, coffee. The kind of breakfast that requires a full kitchen staff.

I sink into a chair, suddenly exhausted despite having slept. Or maybe because of what I did instead of sleeping.

Dante pours coffee for both of us, adding cream to mine without asking. Somehow, he knows how I take it.

Of course, he does. He said he knew everything about me.

“Eat,” he instructs, placing the cup in front of me. “You’ll need your strength for today.”

“What else is happening today?”

“After the announcement goes live, we’re having lunch at The Carlyle. My mother wants to meet you.”

I nearly dropped my coffee. “Your mother? ”

“I told you... She’s dying. Cancer. She has maybe six months.” His voice is carefully neutral, but I catch the tightness around his eyes. “When I told her I was getting married, she insisted on meeting my fiancée immediately.”

“What did you tell her about me? ”

“The truth.” He takes a sip of his espresso. “That you’re Aria Sinclair, successful sales director, brilliant, beautiful, and the woman I’m going to marry.”

“Did you mention the contract? The one-year term?”

His jaw tightens. “My mother doesn’t need to know those details. As far as she’s concerned, this is a real engagement. A real marriage. Understand? ”

I understand perfectly. I’m supposed to play the role of loving fiancée for a dying woman.

The manipulation should bother me more than it does.

“What’s she like?”

“Isabelle Ashford?” A wry smile touches his lips. “Elegant. Sharp. She’ll see through any bullshit in approximately thirty seconds. She raised me alone after my father died, built half the empire with me. She’s... formidable.”

There’s real affection in his voice. Love, even.

It’s the most human I’ve seen him.

“And she’ll approve of me?”

“She’ll approve that I’ve finally found someone.” He sets down his cup. “Whether she approves of you specifically remains to be seen. But you’re intelligent, accomplished, and you don’t back down. She’ll respect that.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“Then she doesn’t.” He shrugs. “But I’m marrying you regardless. The contract is signed.”

Right. The contract. The business arrangement has nothing to do with love or approval.

My phone buzzes insistently in my purse. I’ve been ignoring it all morning, but the vibrations are becoming impossible to miss.

“You should check that,” Dante says. “It’s probably started.”

I pull out my phone with trembling hands.

Forty-seven missed calls. Sixty-three text messages. My social media notifications have exploded into the hundreds.

The most recent text is from Paige:

ARIA WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. CALL ME RIGHT NOW.

Below that is Marcus:

This is a mistake. Call me. We need to talk.

And Vivienne:

You desperate bitch. Enjoy your pity fuck with Dante Ashford. Everyone knows he’ll get bored and trade you in for a newer model within a month.

I scroll through more messages. My mother. My father. Colleagues from work. People I haven’t spoken to in years are all suddenly very interested in my life.

“Let me guess,” Dante says, looking at my face. “Marcus is panicking, your sister is raging, and everyone else wants to know how you landed a billionaire.”

“Something like that.”

He takes my phone gently from my hands and sets it aside. “Let them wonder. Let them panic. Today, you don’t respond to anyone except the people who matter. Who matters to you, Aria?”

I think about that. Really think.

“Elise,” I say finally. “My best friend. She deserves to know the truth.”

“Then call her. After lunch with my mother.” He checks his watch. “We have two hours before we need to leave. I suggest you use that time to prepare yourself. Isabelle Ashford is not easily impressed.”

“Should I be scared?”

His smile is dark. “Terrified. But you’ll handle it. You handled me, didn’t you?”

Did I? Or did he handle me exactly the way he wanted?

Before I can respond, his phone rings. He glances at the screen and his expression hardens.

“I need to take this.” He stands, already moving toward his office. “It’s Liam. Probably about Marcus.”

“Wait... what about Marcus?”

Dante pauses in the doorway. “By now, he’s realized the photos are going public. He’s probably calling in favors, trying to do damage control. But it won’t matter. By this afternoon, everyone who matters will know you’re mine. And Marcus Kane will be exposed as the embezzling, social-climbing fraud he is.”

“You’re going to destroy him.”

“I’m going to destroy everyone who hurts you,” he says, it like a vow. “That was the deal, Aria. You gave yourself to me. Now I give you your revenge.”

He disappears into his office, leaving me alone with my coffee and my thoughts.

I pick up my phone again, staring at Vivienne’s text.

Enjoy your pity fuck with Dante Ashford.

She has no idea.

This isn’t a pity fuck. This is a declaration of war.

And I’m wearing a two-million-dollar ring as my battle armor.

I deleted her message without responding. She’ll get her answer soon enough.

The ivory Valentino dress feels like a second skin now. The ring feels like it belongs on my finger. And somewhere deep inside, the part of me that was broken last night is reforming into something harder.

I sip my coffee and wait for the announcement to go live.