Chapter Ten
847 Words
****Maria’s POV****
The Dressing Room
The room was a blur of satin, sequins, and stylists tugging at pins.
I stood still in front of the mirror, trying not to flinch as a woman fussed with the neckline of my dress, mumbling about “adjusting the silhouette.” But it wasn’t the fabric against my skin that made me uncomfortable.
It was the heat of his gaze.
Andrew leaned against the wall, arms folded, pretending to scroll through his phone. But he wasn’t reading.
His eyes kept flicking up—watching me. Studying me.
Judging me?
No. Not quite.
Wanting me?
Maybe.
The dress was a deep emerald green, clinging to curves I used to hide.
Tonight, there was no hiding.
Not from the world.
Not from Andrew.
The bodice hugged my chest, the slit up the side revealing more leg than I ever intended.
“You’re staring,” I said flatly, keeping my eyes trained on the mirror.
He didn’t blink. “I’d be stupid not to.”
The stylist paused, looked between us, then cleared her throat. “I’ll give you two a moment.”
The door shut with a soft thud.
Silence wrapped around us like silk.
I turned slowly to face him. “You’ve seen me in a dress before.”
He took a step closer. “Not like this.”
Something shifted in his voice. Lower. Rougher. Like gravel under silk.
I swallowed hard. “Don’t pretend, Andrew. This is for the client. For the deal. Just another stage performance.”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, he reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
His touch was maddeningly gentle, completely at odds with the man who had dragged me into this marriage.
“We both know we stopped pretending the moment I put that ring on your finger.”
I should’ve stepped back. Should’ve slapped his hand away, reminded him that this was business. That this wasn’t real.
But I didn’t move.
The space between us felt dangerous. Charged. And for the first time, I didn’t want to be safe.
His hand slid down, knuckles grazing my cheek, my jaw. “You don’t have to look at me like I’m the enemy.”
I did. Because he was. Because he could break me without lifting a finger.
I whispered, “You are the enemy.”
He leaned in, breath brushing my skin. “Then why are you trembling?”
My breath caught.
God help me—I didn’t know.
His lips hovered a breath away from mine. So close I could taste the heat. Feel the war inside him. The war inside me.
But just as quickly, he stepped back. Like he knew if he crossed that line, there’d be no turning back.
“You should finish getting ready,” he said, voice suddenly distant. “We don’t want to be late.”
I nodded, heart racing. He turned and walked to the door, but paused before opening it.
“Maria?”
“Yes?”
His gaze locked onto mine. Dark. Intense. Honest.
“You looked powerful out there last night. Like you didn’t give a damn what the world thought.
That version of you…” His voice trailed off. Then, softer, “She’s the one I can’t stop thinking about.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
And I was left alone, trembling for reasons I could no longer explain.
****Andrew’s POV****
The Car Ride
The car was silent, save for the rain tapping against the windows and the soft hum of the engine. Maria sat beside me, her legs crossed, dress shimmering every time the city lights flashed by.
I kept my hands clenched on my lap. Tightly.
She wasn’t mine. Not really.
But God, the way she looked tonight—like temptation and danger wrapped in one—and the scent of her perfume kept pulling me into places I didn’t want to go.
“You’re quiet,” she said, without looking at me.
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous habit.”
I smirked. “You bring it out in me.”
She turned to face me then, eyes cool but curious. “What are you thinking about?”
I met her gaze, and for once, didn’t bother lying.
“I’m thinking about what would’ve happened if we hadn’t signed that contract. If I’d met you at that bar, drunk and bitter, but not knowing your name.”
She tilted her head. “And what? You would’ve slept with me anyway?”
“No,” I said. “I would’ve chased you.”
That stopped her.
Our eyes locked. A beat passed. Then two.
She looked away first.
The rest of the ride passed in silence. But the tension in the air was electric—thick enough to cut. I didn’t know what would happen when we stepped out of the car.
But one thing was clear.
This game we were playing? It wasn’t just business anymore.
And I wasn’t sure either of us was ready for how real it was about to get.
- Writer
