Contracted Hearts

Cracks Beneath The Surface

Cracks Beneath the Surface

Three weeks into the arrangement, Zara finally understood something about rich people.

They smiled with their mouths, never their eyes.

Everything in Adrian’s world was polished, rehearsed, and controlled. Every dinner had hidden tension beneath the expensive wine. Every compliment sounded like an insult wrapped in silk. Every person she met looked at her like they were trying to figure out where she came from before deciding how much respect she deserved.

And Adrian’s mother was the worst of them all.

Zara stood in front of the mirror one Friday evening while two stylists adjusted the deep emerald gown wrapped around her body. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, expensive fabric falling smoothly against her skin, but she still felt uncomfortable.

Like she was wearing someone else’s life.

“Mr. Cole requested diamonds for tonight,” one stylist said while fastening earrings onto her.

Zara almost laughed.

Diamonds.

A month ago she had been calculating transport fare to the hospital.

Now strangers were placing jewelry worth more than houses around her neck.

It was insane.

“You look beautiful, ma’am,” the stylist added softly.

Zara stared at herself for a moment longer before answering quietly, “I look expensive.”

The women exchanged awkward glances but said nothing.

A knock sounded on the door before Adrian walked in.

The room immediately shifted.

It always did when he entered.

Tall, composed, dressed in an all black tuxedo that probably cost more than her yearly salary, Adrian looked exactly like the type of man women destroyed themselves over.

Cold.

Untouchable.

Dangerously attractive.

His eyes landed on her.

Then stayed there.

Not for one second.

Not casually.

Long enough for the atmosphere to become uncomfortable.

The stylists suddenly became very interested in packing their things.

“We’ll leave you both now.”

The moment they left, silence settled inside the room.

Zara folded her arms immediately. “What?”

Adrian blinked slightly, almost like he hadn’t realized he was staring.

“Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“I was assessing.”

She rolled her eyes. “You always sound like a robot.”

A faint smirk almost touched his lips before disappearing again.

“You look fine.”

“Fine?” Zara repeated incredulously. “This dress probably costs thousands and all you have is fine?”

“You want applause?”

“No,” she muttered. “I just want you to sound human for once.”

He adjusted his watch calmly. “That sounds exhausting.”

Zara stared at him before shaking her head. “You know what? Never mind.”

She moved past him toward the door, but Adrian’s voice stopped her.

“My mother invited investors tonight.”

Zara paused.

“And?”

“And they’ll ask questions.”

She turned slowly. “So?”

“So act appropriately.”

The irritation on her face returned instantly.

“There it is,” she said flatly. “I was wondering how long it would take.”

Adrian frowned slightly. “What?”

“You people always do this.” Zara stepped closer, anger flashing in her eyes. “You dress me up, teach me which fork to use, tell me how to speak, then suddenly I’m embarrassing if I don’t fit perfectly into your world.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.”

The tension between them thickened instantly.

Adrian stepped toward her slowly. “You take everything personally.”

“And you don’t take anything personally enough.”

Their eyes locked.

Neither moving.

Neither backing down.

Then Adrian spoke quietly, “You’re angry.”

Zara laughed softly. “Congratulations. You noticed.”

“You care too much what people think.”

“And you care too little.”

The room fell silent again.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

For one strange second, Zara became intensely aware of how close he was. She could smell his cologne again, expensive and masculine, the kind that lingered long after he left a room. His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.

That tiny movement sent heat rushing through her chest immediately.

And judging by the sudden tightness in his jaw—

He felt it too.

The realization irritated both of them instantly.

Adrian stepped back first.

“Let’s go,” he said coldly.

Like nothing happened.

Like the atmosphere between them hadn’t shifted again.

Zara hated that part the most.

The way he could regain control so quickly while she stood there trying to calm her heartbeat.

The charity gala was worse than the previous events.

Bigger.

Louder.

Crueler.

The ballroom glittered with wealth, crystal lights shining over powerful businessmen and perfectly dressed women who looked at Zara with polished curiosity.

Everywhere she turned, people stared.

Some subtly.

Some openly.

“Smile,” Adrian murmured beside her as cameras flashed in their direction.

Zara forced one instantly.

Her cheeks already hurt from pretending.

“This is torture,” she whispered through her smile.

“You’re doing fine.”

“That’s easy for you to say. These people are your species.”

A faint breath of amusement left him.

“My species?”

“Yes. Billionaires. Emotionally constipated people with expensive watches.”

Adrian almost choked on his drink.

Zara blinked.

Then realization hit her.

Did she just make Adrian Cole laugh?

She turned sharply toward him.

And there it was.

Tiny.

Brief.

But real.

An actual smile.

It disappeared almost immediately when he noticed her staring.

But she had seen it.

And somehow that felt dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Before either of them could say anything else, Adrian’s mother appeared beside them.

Elegant as always.

Manipulative as ever.

“There you are,” she said smoothly before her eyes landed on Zara. “You look… improved.”

Zara smiled tightly. “Good evening to you too.”

His mother ignored the comment completely.

“Adrian, the Hawthorne family is here.”

Something changed in Adrian’s expression instantly.

Annoyance.

Sharp annoyance.

“So?”

His mother lowered her voice slightly. “Their daughter returned from London.”

Zara immediately understood.

Marriage prospect.

Interesting.

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “I’m engaged.”

His mother smiled lightly. “Temporarily.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Zara felt it.

Adrian felt it too.

His eyes darkened dangerously. “Careful.”

But his mother continued like she hadn’t heard him.

“Vanessa Hawthorne is educated, elegant, respected. She would make an excellent wife.”

Zara’s chest tightened unexpectedly.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Because this was a contract.

Temporary.

Fake.

So why did hearing that bother her?

His mother finally looked at Zara again.

“You must understand, dear. Families like ours require certain standards.”

There it was again.

The reminder.

You don’t belong here.

Before Zara could respond, Adrian spoke coldly.

“She’s standing right here.”

“And I’m speaking honestly.”

The older woman’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Or have you suddenly become emotionally attached?”

Silence.

Immediate silence.

Zara’s heart skipped once.

Adrian’s expression became unreadable.

Then cold.

Very cold.

“That won’t happen.”

The answer came too quickly.

Too firmly.

And for some reason—

That hurt.

Zara hated herself for it immediately.

Of course it wouldn’t happen.

That was the agreement.

So why did it sting hearing him say it out loud?

His mother smiled in satisfaction before walking away.

Leaving tension behind her like perfume.

The silence between Zara and Adrian stretched painfully.

Then Zara laughed softly.

Bitterly.

“Well,” she muttered, grabbing a glass from a passing waiter, “that was humiliating.”

Adrian looked at her. “Ignore her.”

“Oh, sure. Easy.” Zara took a sip of her drink. “Your mother basically called me a temporary placeholder in front of half the city.”

“You are temporary.”

The words landed harder than he intended.

He realized it immediately.

Because Zara’s expression changed.

Not dramatically.

Not obviously.

But enough.

Enough for guilt to flicker through him unexpectedly.

Zara nodded slowly. “Right.”

Her voice had gone quieter now.

More distant.

And somehow Adrian disliked that immediately.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

She laughed again, but there was no humor in it this time.

“You know what’s funny?” she said softly. “I actually forgot for a second.”

Adrian frowned slightly. “Forgot what?”

“That none of this is real.”

The words sat heavily between them.

Then Zara handed her glass to a waiter and walked away before he could answer.

Adrian watched her disappear into the crowd, something uncomfortable settling in his chest.

Something unfamiliar.

Because for the first time since this arrangement started—

Hurting her didn’t feel insignificant anymore.

Zara escaped to one of the balconies outside the ballroom, finally breathing properly again once the cold night air touched her skin.

Her chest felt tight.

Stupidly tight.

She hated this world.

Hated how small it made her feel.

Hated the way Adrian’s mother looked at her.

And most of all—

Hated the fact that Adrian’s words affected her at all.

“This is temporary.”

Of course it was.

What did she expect?

That a billionaire CEO would magically fall in love with a cleaner?

Ridiculous.

A sound behind her interrupted her thoughts.

She turned slightly.

Adrian.

Of course.

He loosened his tie slightly as he stepped onto the balcony.

“You disappeared.”

Zara looked away again. “I needed air.”

Silence settled between them.

Then Adrian spoke quietly.

“My mother was out of line.”

Zara let out a soft laugh. “That narrows absolutely nothing down.”

Another silence followed.

Then—

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

She frowned slightly. “Which part?”

“That hurting you was acceptable.”

Zara looked at him properly then.

Really looked at him.

And for the first time since meeting Adrian Cole—

He looked… sincere.

It startled her.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly.

“No, you’re not.”

The answer came immediately.

Too immediately.

And somehow that affected her more than if he had ignored it completely.

The tension between them shifted again.

Softer this time.

More dangerous.

Because anger was easier to fight than this strange growing pull between them.

Adrian stepped closer slowly.

Not enough to touch her.

Just enough to make the air feel warmer despite the cold night.

“You care too much,” he murmured.

“And you don’t care enough.”

Their eyes locked again.

And this time—

Neither of them looked away.