One Kiss Before the Contract Ends

Chapter 5: The First Performance

The grand ballroom of the Blackwood estate was a sea of glittering gowns and assessing eyes. As Alexander led her through the crowd, his hand a firm, possessive weight on the small of her back, Ella felt the scrutiny like a physical touch. She was the unknown variable, the woman who had appeared on the arm of the elusive heir.

"Alexander! So glad you could grace us with your presence." A tall, silver-haired man clapped Alexander on the shoulder, his smile not quite reaching his cold eyes. Ella recognized him from corporate dossiers: Karl Miller, a business rival.

"Karl. I wouldn't miss my mother's party," Alexander replied, his tone smooth as polished steel. His hand slid from her back to curl around her waist, pulling her subtly closer against his side. The gesture was intimate, protective, a clear signal. "Allow me to introduce my wife, Eleanor."

The word wife hung in the air, turning the small circle into a moment of silence. Karl's eyebrows shot up. "Wife? My congratulations. This is... sudden."

"Some things are too precious to wait for," Alexander said, his gaze dropping to Ella with a look of such potent, smoldering admiration that her breath caught. It was a complete fabrication, yet so masterfully performed that she felt a flush creep up her own chest. He leaned in, his lips brushing her temple in a whisper of a kiss. The contact was brief, but the heat of it seared her skin. "Isn't that right, my darling?"

The endearment, spoken in that low, intimate rumble, was a command. She tilted her face up to his, allowing a soft, seemingly besotted smile to grace her lips. "Absolutely," she murmured, her voice for his ears only, yet carrying just enough to be convincing. She let her hand come to rest on his chest, over the steady, strong beat of his heart. "When you know, you know."

She felt the faint, almost imperceptible tightening of his muscles beneath her palm. A reaction. The controlled mask had flickered. He was not as immune to this charade as he pretended.

The evening continued in a whirlwind of introductions and veiled inquiries. Alexander was a master, his touch a constant guide—a hand on her elbow, fingers lacing through hers, his arm draping over her shoulder as they spoke to other guests. Each point of contact was a deliberate act, a lesson in the physical language of possession. And with each touch, the line between performance and reality blurred a little more.

During a quiet moment near a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the dark gardens, he cornered her, his body shielding her from the room's view. The scent of his cologne, clean and sharp, wrapped around her.

"You're trembling," he observed, his voice low. He didn't step back.

"It's cold," she lied, her heart hammering against her ribs.

A slow, knowing smile touched his lips. He raised a hand, and with the back of his knuckles, he stroked a slow, deliberate path from her temple down to the line of her jaw. The touch was shockingly intimate, a caress that promised both comfort and conquest. "Liar," he whispered, his eyes dark pools of intent. "You're not cold. You're alive. Every nerve ending is on fire, and you hate that I can feel it."

He was reading her with an unnerving accuracy. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, a bold, shocking gesture that made her lips part in a silent gasp. The air crackled between them, thick with unspoken things. This was no longer just for show. This was a territory they were mapping together, dangerous and electrifying.

"Alexander." The voice was like a shattering crystal. They broke apart, though he didn't move far. Madeline Blackwood stood there, her expression a masterpiece of polite frost. "I see you've been... occupied."

"Mother." Alexander's arm snaked around Ella's waist again, pulling her firmly into his side, a united front. "As you can see, I've found a reason to be."

Madeline's eyes swept over Ella, from the pearls at her throat to the emerald velvet that clung to her form. There was no warmth, only a cold, calculating assessment. "Charming," she said, the word a dismissal. "Do try not to create a spectacle, Alexander. The vultures are always watching."

As she glided away, Alexander's grip on Ella's waist tightened almost imperceptibly. He bent his head, his mouth close to her ear, his breath a warm caress against her skin.

"See?" he murmured, the words a dark, thrilling secret shared in the midst of the crowd. "The first test has passed. And you..." He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own blazing with a fierce, possessive light that stole the air from her lungs. "You were magnificent."

At that moment, wrapped in the heat of his embrace and the intensity of his gaze, Ella couldn't remember where the performance ended and she began. All she knew was the thrilling, terrifying sense of falling into a world where the rules were written by a man whose touch felt more like truth with every passing second.