Chapter 2
1228 Words
The limo’s interior smelled like leather and understated wealth.
June sat in silence, staring out the tinted windows as the city blurred past. Her navy gown shimmered faintly beneath the dim lights, every detail tailored to perfection, every inch of her appearance curated for tonight. Hair in an elegant bun. Makeup sleek and subtle. Nails painted nude and glossy. A diamond ring glittered on her left hand—the symbol of a lie, a contract sealed in cold ink and colder intentions.
Across from her, Cassian Wolfe was a study in immaculate control.
Black tuxedo. Crisp shirt. Silver cufflinks that caught the light when he adjusted his collar. He hadn’t said a word since she entered the car. Not a glance. Not a compliment. Just tension, thick and humming between them like a taut string ready to snap.
“You could at least pretend to be pleased,” she said at last.
Cassian looked up, his jaw angled like marble.
“Would you prefer I lie?”
“I’d prefer you not act like I’m just another business acquisition.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You are.”
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Good to know where we stand.”
“You knew that from the beginning.”
“Still, a girl can hope for some basic courtesy. Or is that not in the Wolfe playbook?”
He leaned forward slightly, the soft growl in his voice sending goosebumps up her arms. “You’re wearing a dress that cost more than some people’s rent. You’re about to walk into the most exclusive gala of the year on my arm. And you’re getting paid seven figures to smile while doing it. Do you really need compliments too?”
June met his eyes. “No. But it would be nice.”
A beat of silence passed between them.
Then, quietly, he said, “You look stunning.”
She blinked.
His expression didn’t soften, but his voice held a subtle edge—something unreadable. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
Too late.
The car slowed, and flashes of cameras lit up the night like fireworks. The gala was already in full swing—the steps of the Laurent Hotel swarmed with press, guests, and influencers draped in couture.
Cassian got out first. His movements were smooth, practiced.
Then he turned, extending a hand toward her.
June hesitated—just for a second.
Then placed her hand in his.
Heat slid up her arm.
As she stepped out of the limo, the crowd erupted.
“Cassian! Over here!”
“Who’s the woman with him?”
“Is that his fiancée?”
June kept her face neutral, posture poised, just like the PR coach drilled into her head. Her hand stayed looped in Cassian’s arm as they walked up the stairs, surrounded by chaos but untouched by it.
He leaned down slightly. “Smile like you mean it.”
She did.
They entered the ballroom like royalty.
⸻
The gala was a hurricane of wealth and ambition. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above, the music was soft and expensive, and the guests were sharks dressed in velvet and champagne.
Cassian guided her through the room like a man leading a queen. Every move was calculated, every interaction a transaction. He introduced her to board members, politicians, minor celebrities—each time with his hand at the small of her back, each time with a possessive edge to his voice.
But June wasn’t just decoration.
She played her part flawlessly—graceful, witty, composed. She caught the amused glances from socialites, the sizing-up stares from other women, and the assessing look from an older man who whispered something to Cassian in Italian.
She leaned in with a smile. “Your friends are charming.”
Cassian’s lips twitched. “That was my grandfather’s business rival. He once tried to sue us over a vineyard.”
“Lovely man.”
“He called you la sirena. The siren.”
June laughed, a little too loudly.
Cassian’s eyes darkened.
⸻
An hour into the night, June slipped away to the terrace, needing air—and space. The ballroom had started to feel suffocating, like a cage gilded in gold and expectations.
She placed her hands on the marble railing and breathed in the city night. Lights flickered below. Voices drifted from inside.
“Running away already?” came the voice behind her.
She didn’t turn.
“You were the one who said this was a performance. Even actors need intermission.”
Cassian joined her at the railing, silence hanging heavy between them.
“I didn’t expect you to handle tonight this well,” he said finally.
She arched a brow. “Was that a compliment?”
“Don’t push it.”
A pause.
Then she asked, softer, “Why me, Cassian? Out of everyone you could’ve chosen for this… arrangement. Why a personal assistant’s daughter with no name, no legacy, no leverage?”
His jaw tensed.
He looked out over the city as he spoke. “Because you’re not afraid of me.”
She turned to him.
He met her eyes, steady and unapologetic. “Everyone else… plays a role around me. They’re careful. Calculated. You’re the first person who doesn’t lower her gaze. Even now.”
June didn’t know what to say.
Because deep down, it was true.
Cassian Wolfe was the kind of man people respected out of fear. She didn’t fear him. She challenged him. And some part of him—maybe the part still untouched by business and bloodlines—liked that.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I care,” he added, voice colder now. “I chose you because you’re useful. Don’t give it more meaning than that.”
June stepped closer, just enough to make the air shift between them.
“Then why does it feel like you’re warning yourself?”
The look in his eyes darkened.
He reached out suddenly—fingers brushing her cheek, almost curious.
June’s breath caught.
“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” he said lowly. “Let’s keep it that way.”
“Good,” she replied, though her voice wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be. “Because pleasure would complicate things.”
They stood like that for a moment, the tension crackling in the space between them.
Then the door opened, breaking the spell.
A woman stepped onto the terrace, statuesque, draped in red silk.
Her eyes locked on Cassian.
“Cassian Wolfe,” she purred. “Still brooding by balconies, I see.”
June stiffened.
Cassian’s voice dropped to something unreadable. “Selene.”
“Selene,” June repeated quietly.
The woman turned to her. “And who is this?”
Before Cassian could answer, June stepped forward with a practiced smile. “I’m his fiancée.”
Selene’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh? Interesting. I wasn’t aware Cassian believed in marriage.”
“Neither was I,” June said smoothly. “But I’m very convincing.”
Cassian coughed once. June swore it was a laugh.
Selene turned back to him. “We should talk.”
“Not tonight,” he said.
Selene’s gaze lingered on June before she disappeared back inside.
June looked at him. “Ex?”
Cassian didn’t answer.
But his silence said more than words ever could.
- Writer
