Chapter 5 The First Test

I stood in front of the mirror in what was apparently my new bedroom, trying not to hyperventilate. The penthouse suite Damien had given me was bigger than my entire apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city and a walk-in closet that now housed thousands of dollars worth of clothes I'd never dreamed of owning.

But right now, all I could focus on was the navy blue dress I was wearing and the diamond ring catching the light on my finger. In thirty minutes, I would be walking into a room full of wealthy, powerful people and pretending to be madly in love with a man I barely knew.

A soft knock on my door made me jump.

Come in, I called, expecting maybe a maid or one of the staff members I'd met when Damien showed me around earlier.

Instead, Damien himself stepped into the room, and I forgot how to breathe.

He looked devastating in a black tuxedo that fit him like it had been sewn onto his body. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and those blue eyes seemed even more intense than usual. This was Damien Knight in his natural element, and the effect was overwhelming.

You look beautiful, he said, his gaze moving over me in a way that made my skin warm.

Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.

He smiled at that, a real smile that transformed his entire face. Are you ready for this?

As ready as I'll ever be to lie to a room full of strangers about being in love with you.

His expression grew more serious. Aria, I need you to understand something. These people we're about to meet, they're sharks. They'll be looking for any sign that our relationship isn't real. They'll ask personal questions, try to trip you up, test whether you know things about me that a real fiancée would know.

My stomach clenched. What kind of things?

Basic information. Where I went to college, what I like to drink, how we met. I've prepared some notes for you to review in the car.

Notes? You mean like studying for a test about your life?

Something like that. But more importantly, you need to look comfortable with me. Like we've been together for months, not days.

How exactly am I supposed to do that?

Without warning, he stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne and see the flecks of silver in his blue eyes. Like this, he said, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear.

The simple touch sent electricity through my entire body. My breath caught, and for a moment, I forgot this was all pretend.

Good, he said quietly, his hand still lingering near my face. That's the look I need. Like you feel something when I touch you.

I do feel something, I thought, but I didn't dare say it out loud.

Let's practice, he said, taking my hand and leading me to the center of the room. At some point tonight, I'll need to put my arm around you, maybe hold your hand, possibly even kiss your cheek. You need to look like you enjoy it.

Okay, I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He placed his hands on my waist, pulling me closer until there was barely any space between us. How does this feel?

Like I'm about to have a heart attack, I thought. Fine, I managed to say.

You're too tense. Relax. Lean into me a little.

I tried to relax, letting myself settle against his chest. He was warm and solid, and being this close to him was doing things to my concentration that I really couldn't afford.

Better, he murmured. Now look up at me like you adore me.

I tilted my head back to meet his eyes, and the intensity in his gaze nearly knocked me over. For a moment, I forgot we were practicing. Forgot this was all fake. Forgot everything except the way he was looking at me like I was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

Perfect, he said, his voice rougher than before.

We stood there for a heartbeat longer than necessary, something crackling between us that felt entirely too real. Then he stepped back, and the moment shattered.

We should go, he said, checking his watch. The car is waiting.

The ride to the restaurant was a blur of city lights and last-minute coaching. Damien had indeed prepared notes for me, a detailed summary of his background that read like a Wikipedia page.

Harvard Business School, I read aloud. Favorite drink is eighteen-year-old Macallan scotch. Allergic to shellfish. Plays tennis but prefers sailing. Has a house in the Hamptons and an apartment in Paris.

You don't need to memorize everything, he said. Just enough to seem like you know me.

What about you? What do you need to know about me?

He looked at me with surprise. What do you mean?

Well, if people ask you about me, what will you say?

He was quiet for a moment. You're twenty-three, you work in event planning, your mother raised you alone after your father left when you were ten.

Event planning? I've never worked in event planning.

You do now. I've arranged for you to have a position with one of the city's premier event companies. It explains how we met and gives you something to talk about at social gatherings.

You arranged a job for me?

A legitimate job, with real responsibilities and a real salary. You'll start next week.

I stared at him. Why would you do that?

Because Mrs. Damien Knight needs to have her own identity, her own career. It makes our relationship more believable, and it gives you something to do during the year we're married.

The car pulled up in front of an elegant restaurant that looked like it belonged in a movie. Valets rushed to open our doors, and I could see photographers waiting across the street.

Remember, Damien said as we stepped out of the car, you're happy to be here. You're in love with me, and you're proud to be on my arm.

He offered me his elbow, and I slipped my hand through it, trying to channel the confidence I'd seen in movies and magazines. The photographers immediately started taking pictures, their cameras flashing like lightning.

Smile, Damien murmured, and I forced my lips into what I hoped looked like a happy expression.

Inside the restaurant, we were led to a private dining room where about twenty people were already gathered, all of them dressed in clothes that probably cost more than I used to make in months. The conversations stopped when we walked in, and I could feel every eye in the room assessing me.

Everyone, Damien said, his voice carrying easily across the room, I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Aria Thompson.

The woman closest to us, an elegant blonde in a silver dress, stepped forward with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

How wonderful, she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. I'm Victoria Sterling, Richard's wife. We've known Damien for years. I had no idea he was seeing anyone seriously.

It's been a whirlwind romance, I said, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. We met at a charity auction, and I suppose you could say it was love at first sight.

How romantic, Victoria said, though her tone suggested she found it anything but. And what do you do, dear?

I work in event planning, I said, grateful for the cover story Damien had prepared. Mostly charity galas and corporate functions.

Oh, how interesting. Victoria's smile became even more forced. Which company?

Sterling Events, Damien said smoothly, his arm tightening around my waist. Aria's quite talented. She's been handling some very high-profile accounts.

I had no idea what Sterling Events was, but I nodded like it was completely true.

The evening continued like that, with person after person approaching us, asking questions, probing for details about our relationship. Each time, Damien had an answer, a story, a perfectly crafted explanation that made our whirlwind romance sound believable.

And slowly, I started to relax. Partly because Damien was so good at managing the conversations, and partly because he never left my side. His hand stayed on my back, my arm, my waist, a constant reminder that I wasn't alone in this.

During dinner, he leaned close to whisper something about the woman across from us, and I found myself laughing at his observation. When I caught him looking at me with something that seemed almost like genuine affection, I didn't have to fake the warmth in my expression.

You're doing beautifully, he murmured during a lull in conversation.

So are you. I almost believe we're really engaged myself.

Something flickered in his eyes at that, but before he could respond, Victoria Sterling was back at our table.

Damien, darling, she said, placing her hand on his shoulder in a gesture that seemed far too familiar. I simply must steal Aria away for a moment. Girl talk, you understand.

My stomach dropped, but Damien squeezed my hand reassuringly. Of course, he said. I'll be right here.

Victoria led me to a quieter corner of the room, and I could tell by her expression that the real interrogation was about to begin.

You know, dear, she said, her voice honey-sweet with an undertone of steel, I've known Damien since we were children. He's never been the type to fall in love quickly.

People change, I said carefully.

Do they? She studied me like I was a particularly interesting specimen. Because between you and me, Damien Knight has never met a problem he couldn't solve with money. It makes a girl wonder what kind of problem you might be solving for him.

My heart was pounding, but I kept my expression calm. I'm not sure what you mean.

Oh, I think you do. Victoria stepped closer. Whatever arrangement you two have, I hope you're getting enough out of it to make it worthwhile. Because when Damien is done with his projects, he tends to discard them rather ruthlessly.

Before I could respond, strong arms wrapped around me from behind, and Damien's familiar cologne surrounded me.

There you are, he said, pressing a kiss to my temple that felt surprisingly natural. I was wondering where my beautiful fiancée had disappeared to.

We were just getting acquainted, Victoria said, her expression shifting back to false sweetness.

How lovely, Damien said, but there was steel in his voice. Victoria, I believe your husband is looking for you.

She took the dismissal gracefully, gliding away with a final knowing look that made my skin crawl.

What did she say to you? Damien asked quietly.

Nothing important, I lied.

Aria.

I looked up at him, surprised by the concern in his voice. She was just trying to figure out if our relationship is real.

And what did you tell her?

That people change. That you fell in love with me the same way I fell in love with you.

He stared down at me for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. And how exactly did you fall in love with me?

The question caught me off guard. We were still playing our parts, but something about the way he asked it felt different. More personal.

Completely by accident, I said softly. One look, and I was lost.

It was the truth, in a way. Maybe not love, but something had definitely happened the moment I looked into his eyes. Something I wasn't ready to examine too closely.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs tracing along my cheekbones. Anyone watching, he said quietly, would absolutely believe that I'm completely gone for you right now.

Are they watching?

Oh yes. But that's not why I'm looking at you like this.

Why then?

Because for a moment there, I almost forgot we were acting.

Before I could process what that meant, he was lowering his head, and I realized he was going to kiss me. Right there, in front of everyone, with Victoria Sterling watching from across the room.

Our first kiss was supposed to be for show, a performance to sell our fake engagement.

But when his lips touched mine, when his arms tightened around me and I melted against him without thinking, it felt like the most real thing that had ever happened to me.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, I could see the same confusion in his eyes that I felt.

This was supposed to be fake.

So why did it feel like everything had just changed?

End of Chapter 5