CHAPTER 05 — THE KISS THEY HAVE TO SELL
1496 Words
The house grew louder as evening settled in.
Laughter spilled from the living room, glasses clinked, someone turned up the music—holiday classics softened by too much wine and nostalgia. Elara stood near the doorway, watching Jace from across the room.
He didn’t try to impress.
That was the dangerous part.
He listened more than he spoke. Laughed at the right moments. Remembered names after hearing them once. Leaned in when people talked, gave space when they needed it. Every move felt deliberate, calibrated—not fake, not exaggerated.
Convincing.
Too convincing.
“Elara,” her cousin whispered, “where did you find him?”
Elara swallowed. “He found me.”
Across the room, Jace caught her eye. The corner of his mouth lifted—brief, knowing—then faded just as quickly, like he’d remembered something important.
They were selling a lie.
She just hadn’t realized how expensive it would feel.
“Everyone,” her uncle called, tapping his glass, “a toast before dinner.”
The room gathered closer. Jace stepped to Elara’s side without asking, his hand settling at the small of her back—light, grounding. Public affection only when necessary.
This felt necessary.
“To Elara,” her uncle said, smiling wide, “and her fiancé. May the holidays bring you everything you’ve been missing.”
Applause followed.
Then her aunt added, too brightly, “We’d love to see the ring, dear.”
The room leaned in.
Elara’s stomach dropped.
Jace didn’t hesitate.
He lifted her hand, revealing a simple silver ring she hadn’t noticed before. The gesture was smooth—but for the briefest second, Elara felt the tension in his fingers.
Not nerves.
Calculation.
“That’s beautiful,” someone murmured.
Jace leaned in, voice warm. “I picked it because it felt like her.”
Elara’s breath caught. “Like me?”
“Strong,” he said. “Uncomplicated. Hard to ignore.”
Her heart stuttered.
Dinner was announced, saving her from answering. They took their seats close together. His arm rested behind her chair—protective, not possessive.
“You okay?” he murmured.
“You’re very good at this,” she said quietly.
His gaze lingered a fraction too long. “I had practice.”
The admission surprised her.
Across the table, her ex watched them with thinly veiled interest.
Jace noticed.
His hand settled on her thigh beneath the table—still, steady. Not claiming.
Just anchoring.
“Relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
The words worked more than she liked.
Dessert passed. The room warmed with wine and memory. Someone suggested photos.
“Together,” her mother said, phone already raised. “You’re engaged, not strangers.”
Jace’s arm wrapped around her waist. Elara fit into him like it wasn’t new. Cameras flashed.
“Closer,” her aunt urged. “A little closer.”
Jace leaned in, voice brushing her ear. “We need to sell it.”
“I know,” she breathed.
“Do you trust me?”
She hesitated—then nodded.
He turned her gently. His thumb traced a careful line at her hip, reassuring rather than claiming.
“Smile,” he murmured. “Like it’s easy.”
She did.
“Maybe a kiss?” someone called. “For the picture!”
The room waited.
Jace didn’t move.
He looked at her—really looked.
“If you want me to stop,” he said quietly, “say it now.”
She shook her head.
“Okay,” he breathed.
He leaned in slowly, giving her time.
Their lips met—soft, brief, controlled.
The room reacted.
Applause. Laughter. Approval.
Jace pulled back—
—and hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Then he kissed her again. Still chaste. Still public. But this time, intentional.
Claiming.
Elara felt it.
So did he.
When they separated, his jaw was tight, his breath not quite as steady as before.
Perfect, her mother beamed.
Later, outside in the cold, Elara broke the silence. “That second kiss wasn’t necessary.”
Jace didn’t deny it.
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”
“Then why—”
“Because you didn’t pull away,” he replied. Then, lower, “And I should have.”
The honesty landed hard.
Inside, laughter swelled again.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Nice recovery.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: You’re starting to blur the lines.
She showed him.
Jace read the screen, expression darkening—not angry. Focused.
“That’s on me,” he said quietly. “I let it go one beat too long.”
Her pulse raced. “Is that bad?”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “Because now they know it’s not just an act.”
Silence pressed in.
“We should go,” he added. “Before this costs you more than it should.”
The drive back was quiet.
At the motel, the room felt smaller. Charged.
“That kiss changed things,” Elara said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“So what now?”
Jace exhaled slowly. “Now we’re more careful. Tomorrow, we reset.”
“And tonight?”
He met her gaze, restraint written into every line of him.
“Tonight, we don’t pretend anything we can’t survive.”
Her chest tightened.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because I don’t know if I could.”
He stepped closer—then stopped, drawing the line himself.
“Sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow, the consequences start.”
As Elara turned away, she felt his eyes on her—steady, contained, dangerous.
They sold the kiss perfectly.
What terrified her wasn’t that others believed it.
It was that Jace almost had.
Elara didn’t sleep right away.
She lay on her side, facing the wall, listening to the quiet mechanics of the room—the heater clicking on and off, the faint sound of Jace moving in the chair behind her.
Not pacing.
Not restless.
Contained.
That was what unsettled her most.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” she said. Then corrected herself. “No.”
The chair shifted. He didn’t stand. He didn’t come closer.
“What part?” he asked.
“The part where I can’t tell which version of tonight scares me more,” she said. “The one everyone saw… or the one we didn’t.”
Silence followed.
Then, honest and low: “I shouldn’t have kissed you twice.”
Her heart thudded.
“But you did,” she replied.
“Yes.” A pause. “And I won’t pretend that didn’t matter.”
She turned slightly, just enough to see his outline in the dim light.
“That’s not very fake-fiancé of you.”
A faint, humorless exhale. “I know.”
The admission settled heavier than any promise would have.
Her phone buzzed again on the nightstand.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Tomorrow will be quieter.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Quiet is when we look closer.
Elara closed her eyes.
“Someone’s not done,” she said softly.
Jace stood this time. Crossed the room. Stopped—still respecting the line.
“They won’t be,” he replied. “Not after tonight.”
She swallowed. “What does that mean for us?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“It means,” he said finally, “the next mistake won’t be forgiven.”
That sent a chill through her chest.
“And if it’s not a mistake?” she asked.
His gaze held hers in the dark.
“Then we stop calling it pretending.”
The word lingered between them, dangerous and unfinished.
Morning crept in slowly, pale light slipping under the curtains.
Elara woke to the sound of her phone vibrating—once, then twice.
PAULA: Morning. Small change.
PAULA: Breakfast moved earlier.
PAULA: Your fiancé is expected. Sharp.
Her stomach tightened.
She sat up.
Jace was already awake.
Already watching.
“They moved it up,” she said. “They want us off balance.”
He nodded once. “Good.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it’s predictable.”
He reached for his jacket, then paused—meeting her gaze.
“Today,” he said, “you don’t follow.”
Her brow furrowed. “Then what?”
“You lead,” he continued. “I back you.”
The shift startled her more than any kiss had.
“And if I slip?”
“I won’t,” he said calmly. “But if you do—I won’t cover it.”
Her pulse spiked. “You just said—”
“Because this time,” he finished, “they need to see you choose me.”
The weight of it pressed into her lungs.
Outside, the snow kept falling—quiet, relentless.
Elara exhaled slowly, grounding herself.
“Okay,” she said.
Jace’s eyes sharpened—not dominant now.
Aligned.
“Okay,” he echoed.
The game hadn’t just changed.
The rules had.
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