CHAPTER 04 — THE FIRST PUBLIC LIE
991 Words
Morning arrived quietly.
Snow pressed itself against the motel window like it wanted to be let
inside, softening the world into something deceptively calm. Elara woke
with a strange heaviness in her chest—an awareness she hadn’t felt in a
long time.
She wasn’t alone.
Jace sat in the chair by the window, jacket already on, boots laced,
coffee cooling in his hand. He hadn’t slept. She could tell by the
stillness of him—the alert way his eyes tracked the parking lot, the
quiet readiness of a man who didn’t rest unless he chose to.
“You watch people when you think?” she asked, voice rough from sleep.
“I watch exits,” he replied. “People come after.”
She pushed herself up on the bed, blanket sliding down her shoulders.
The memory of last night rushed back—his voice, the rules, the way he’d
chosen distance instead of temptation.
“Did I break any rules?” she asked.
His gaze flicked to her mouth, then back to her eyes. “No.”
Relief mixed with something sharper. Disappointment, maybe.
“Good,” she said, too quickly.
Jace stood and set the coffee on the small table. “We need to get moving.
Your family’s expecting a fiancé who looks convincing.”
Her stomach flipped. “We’re really doing this.”
“We agreed,” he said calmly. “Just don’t forget—this is public now.”
Public.
The word carried weight. Eyes. Judgments. Expectations.
Elara showered, dressed, tried not to overthink the way Jace waited
outside the bathroom door like it was natural. Like he belonged there.
They left together.
The drive to her parents’ house cut through snow-lined roads, pine trees
bowing under white weight. Jace drove with one hand on the wheel, steady,
unhurried. Elara watched his reflection in the windshield more than the
road.
“You don’t have to impress them,” she said.
He glanced at her. “That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“I don’t do halfway,” he replied. “If we’re lying, we lie well.”
Her breath hitched.
The house came into view—warm lights, wreaths, familiar windows that
had once felt like safety. Now they felt like a test.
Jace parked. The engine ticked softly as it cooled.
He didn’t get out right away.
“Rule check,” he said. “Public affection only when necessary. You lead.
I follow.”
She nodded.
“And Elara?” He turned to her fully now. “If anything feels off, squeeze
my hand once. I’ll step in. Twice, we leave.”
Her chest tightened. “You planned this.”
“I plan everything,” he said.
She believed him.
At the door, she hesitated.
Jace didn’t rush her. He simply offered his arm.
She took it.
The door opened to warmth and noise—laughter, voices, the smell of
cinnamon and pine. Her mother’s eyes lit up immediately.
“Elara! You made it!” She stopped short, gaze dropping to Jace’s arm.
“Oh—this must be—”
“Jace Wolfe,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. “It’s nice to finally
meet you.”
Her mother blinked, then smiled too brightly. “Finally, yes. Come in,
come in. We’ve heard so much.”
Elara swallowed.
Heard nothing. She’d made sure of it.
Inside, eyes turned. Conversations paused. Jace’s presence shifted the
room—not loudly, not aggressively, but unmistakably. He shook hands,
answered questions, accepted compliments with an ease that unsettled
her.
He played the role perfectly.
Too perfectly.
At one point, her aunt leaned in and whispered, “He’s… intense.”
Elara forced a smile. “He’s… attentive.”
Across the room, Jace met her gaze and lifted a brow, amused.
He noticed everything.
When her ex arrived—uninvited, inevitable—Elara felt it before she saw
him. The air tightened. Jace’s hand slid to the small of her back, a quiet
claim that sent heat through her spine.
“Problem?” he murmured.
She squeezed his hand once.
Jace shifted, placing himself half a step in front of her. Not blocking.
Shielding.
Her ex’s smile faltered. “Elara. Didn’t know you were engaged.”
“She didn’t think it was your business,” Jace said politely. Coldly.
“But congratulations on the curiosity.”
Silence fell.
Elara’s pulse pounded. She felt seen—protected—in a way she hadn’t
expected.
The ex muttered something and retreated.
Only then did Jace look down at her. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he said. “That’s what fiancés do.”
Later, in the kitchen, her mother cornered her. “He’s different.”
“I know.”
“He looks at you like—” Her mother hesitated. “Like he means it.”
Elara’s throat tightened. “He does.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
When they stepped outside for air, snow dusted Jace’s shoulders. Elara
reached up without thinking, brushing it away. Her fingers lingered.
Jace went still.
“You’re breaking a rule,” he said softly.
“So are you,” she replied, because his hand was warm at her waist now.
“Only because it’s necessary,” he said.
“Is it?”
He leaned closer, voice dropping. “They’re watching.”
Her heart raced.
“Smile,” he murmured. “Like you’re proud.”
She did.
His thumb brushed her hip, slow and grounding. The touch was careful,
controlled—but it burned.
Inside, applause erupted—someone calling for a toast.
Jace straightened. “Ready?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
As they re-entered, Elara realized the truth she’d been avoiding:
The lie was working.
Too well.
And the most dangerous part wasn’t fooling her family—
It was the way Jace looked at her when he thought no one else could see.
- Writer
