CHAPTER 3
1307 Words
Zara’s pov
I stood in front of the mirror in Van's room, the room he and I had been sharing for the past two days since I agreed to his forced marriage. I still couldn't tell what he was planning, or what his endgame is, but the best I could do for now is to follow his lead, appear as happily married couples to the public and find some way to get myself out of this mess.
I picked up my purse and went downstairs.
Van was already standing in front of the car. He glanced up when I came out, and for a moment neither of us said anything. Then he opened the door and we both got in and the driver pulled away from the house.
"The event is a charity gala," he said, after a while, his gaze focused on the road. "Board members, a few investors, and the press will be present so we've got to give then a great fiest impression."
"How do you want to handle questions about us?" I asked, my eyebrows raising slightly.
"We tell them we met through mutual connections and we fell head over heels for each other, but because of my status we decided to keep the relationship private." He glanced over to see my reaction.
Head over heels. Such bullshit.
"If someone pushes past that,” he continued, “don't answer. People always talk themselves into an answer if you let them."
"And if they ask something I genuinely don't know how to answer?"
"In a case where that happens, just send me a sort of signal, I'll interfere."
We sat quietly for a while, before I spoke up again.
"How long have we supposedly been together?" I asked.
"If a specific number comes up, two years. It's easier to defend and hard to disprove."
The car stopped finally.
The moment the car door opened and the cameras were fixed on us, something shifted in him.
His hand reached for my back as his whole posture changed. His eyes gleamed with a kind of excitement that seemed force up close but genuine from a mile away.
I matched him the best I could. Chin up, shoulders settled, a smile so wide i thought my face would genuinely c***k.
"Mr. Grey." A man approached us, grey-haired, broad-shouldered, his smile exposing the gap between his front tooth. "And you must be Zara. We'd started to think Van here didn't have a personal life."
"He hides it well," I chuckled.
The man laughed. Van's hand pressed briefly, at my back.
"She's better at keeping secrets than I am," Van said, his voice taking on a lighter edge. "That's the only reason it stayed quiet this long."
Inside, a man broke away from a small group the moment he saw us.
"Van." He clasped Van's hand with both of his. "We were beginning to think you'd changed your mind."
"When have I ever missed one of your events, Richard." Van chuckled.
"Never." Richard turned to me, his gaze warm and curious. "And you must be Zara. I have to say, Van keeping something this significant from us—I'm still recovering from the shock."
"Don't take it personally," I said. "He kept it from me too, half the time."
Van's hand pressed once, lightly, at my back, and I couldn't tell if it was approval or a warning.
"She's funny," Richard said to Van, delighted.
"She's a lot of things," Van said, his gaze lingering on me for longer than necessary.
The music shifted, slower, and the floor began to clear. "Oh come on Van, give us something to talk about," Richard said, as his lips widened into a mischievous grin.
"Dance with me." Van said, standing up, stretching his hands outwards to me.
I stood up and his hand settled at my waist, moving us softly along with the music.
He turned us and the room blurred softly making me remember the first time we had ever danced. A company event years ago, early into whatever we were back then. I had been nervous and tried to hide it and stepped on his foot.
I had trusted him so much back then.
His hand at my waist was warm through the fabric of my dress. We were closer than necessary and he smelled exactly the same as he always had and I hated that I noticed that. I hated that my heart and my body was having a completely and entirely unauthorised reaction to being this close to him. I hated that five years of careful, deliberate distance could apparently be undone by one slow song in a room full of people who believed we were in love.
"Hey," he said, his voice low and calm
I looked up at him.
He was already looking at me. His expression was different from anything it had been all evening.
“Are you okay?” He asked, his eyes fixed on mine in a way that made my heart flutter.
"I'm…I'm…fine,please excuse me," I said and bolted.
The balcony was cold and quiet and completely empty and I stood at the railing and breathed.
I was there for maybe two minutes before I realised I wasn't alone.
There was someone at the far end, leaning with his forearms on the railing, a cigarette burning between his fingers.
"Sorry," he said, looking over at me. "I can go if you need the space."
"You were here first."
"I know." He moved over slightly anyway, making room that didn't need making. "Bad habit," he added, lifting the cigarette briefly.
"I've seen worse."
He laughed quietly at that, exhaling sideways. "Leo."
"Zara."
"I know." He said, a smile tugging at his lips. "You're all everyone has to talk about…How are you finding it in there?"
I considered lying, but then I thought about the fact that there were no cameras out here. "Loud." I said finally.
He nodded like that was exactly the right word. "It gets loud. Same people every time, same conversations." He looked out at the city below. "You get good at finding the quiet parts of buildings."
"Is that what this is? Your quiet part?"
"One of them." He glanced at me. "What's yours usually?"
I thought about Billy's voice on the phone. The way the bathroom felt at night with the shower running and his sleepy rambling coming through the speaker.
"I'm still finding it," I said.
He nodded and didn't push it, and I liked him immediately for that.
We stood there for a while, talking about nothing that mattered—the city, the event, and the speech Richard made.
"He really believed it," Leo said, grinning. "That's what gets me. He was in there talking about Tacos like it personally saved his life."
"Maybe it did," I said laughing. "Who are we to judge?"
"Deeply unfair of us."
"Deeply."
I was still smiling when I straightened and smoothed my dress. "I should get back in."
"You should." He said, his gaze fixed on me as he smiled so hard I thought his mouth was going to c***k.
"I enjoyed this though," I said, genuinely meaning it in a way that surprised me slightly.
“So did I.”
He smiled, and then his eyes caught something near my temple and he reached over naturally, the way you do without thinking, his fingers light as he lifted a loose strand that had caught against my earring—
The door opened.
Van stood in the doorway, his eyes going straight to Leo's raised hand.
He crossed the space between us immediately, his fist clenching tight.
The sound of his hand against Leo's chest was loud and sharp in the cold air, and Leo's back hit the railing hard behind him.
"Get your filthy hands off my wife.”
- Writer
