Contractual Hearts

Gala of Glass Daggers

The limousine slid to a stop beneath the glimmering portico of the Kensington Hotel. Ella smoothed nonexistent creases from the emerald silk of the daring backless Valentino that screamed the confidence she didn’t feel: armor, just as the ruby Louboutins were. Beside her, Liam Sterling was an image of monochrome power: a fitted tuxedo of black, with his face carved from marble.

"Ready?" Very soft intonation left his lips. He offered his arm. It was not a question at all; it was an order.

She placed her hand lightly on the crook of his elbow, tingling where her skin met the fine wool of his sleeve. Professional. Performative. "Ready."

They stepped out into a barrage of flashing lights. Paparazzi lined the red carpet, calling their names. "Liam! Ella! Over here! Look this way!" "Is it true? Sterling's mystery fiancée!" "Give us a smile, love!"

Liam's hand slid possessively to the small of her back - Rule One: Guiding, not groping - and propelled her effortlessly forward. He stopped and turned them toward the cameras, smiling brilliantly, his white teeth a practiced s***h that never reached his eyes. Ella smiled back, brittle and painted on. She leaned just slightly into him, a picture of besotted elegance. Sell the fairy tale.

"Who designed the gown, Ella?" came another shout from a reporter.

Ella replied very clearly and brightly, "Valentino. A gift from Liam." Lie. She had charged it to her maxed-out credit card - a necessary investment in the role.

"Any wedding details yet?" another shouted.

"Early days!" Liam's voice flowed smoothly, inexorably tightening just a fraction on her waist. "We're just enjoying being engaged. Tonight is about the children's hospital." He expertly walked her out of the questions, his pace nonchalant yet unyielding, "Breathe," he whispered just for her. "You're doing fine."

Fine. She felt like a wind-up doll. They swarmed forward through the opulent lobby engulfed in designer gowns, tuxedos, and predatory smiles. Ella recognized senators, tech billionaires, socialites whose faces graced magazine covers. Instantaneously, the power couple of Sterling Dynamics became the center of attention. And whispers followed them like toxic perfume.

"e;...his assistant? Really?"e;

"e;...heard he snapped her up right under Finch's nose..."e;

"e;...stunning, but rather ambitious, isn't she?"e;

Liam cruised the crowd with the bloodthirsty ease of a shark, "My fiancée, Ella Rossi," an utterly bland introduction, with his hand never leaving her back, warm and possessive. She smiled, nodded, made some small talk, but her mind raced to classify names and faces from the briefing Janice had given. Senator Crane, pro-business, loves golf. Mrs. Harrington-Vance, niece to Charles Harrington, sharp tongue, loves gossip.

They'd been sipping champagne near a towering ice sculpture when the whole atmosphere changed. Almost immediately, her immediate circle dropped into absolute silence, and that silence was rippling out into curious excitement. Ella followed the gazes of the onlookers.

She cut a path through the crowd like a vengeful angel in liquid silver. Isabella Moretti. Heiress. Socialite. And per tabloid rumors that Liam had tersely included into her 'background reading,' his most recent and, quite frankly, dangerous ex. Her dark eyes, sharp as obsidian shards, were set upon Liam, full of predator intent, then slid to Ella, dripping with disdain.

Isabella purred, her voice as velvet-wrapped dagger. Stopping before them, she paid Ella no mind. "Liam darling. Rescuing damsels in distress now? Or just slumming?" Her gaze flicked over Ella’s gown. "Emerald? Bold choice. Almost distracts from the… ambition."

Ella could feel the tension in Liam beside her. His hand at her back stiffened. "Isabella," he stated quietly, cold enough to freeze champagne. "You remember Ella Rossi? Sterling Dynamics' newest Senior Strategist. And my fiancée."

Isabella seemed to have anchored there and would not move now, but her smile never disrupted. "Fiancée? How… sudden." Now Isabella reluctantly yet dutifully turned her head toward Ella. "My condolences, darling. Or congratulations? It’s so hard to tell with Liam. He does have a habit of collecting… shiny things. Until they tarnish." A delicately trouble-free sip of her champagne. "Tell me, Ella, was it the title or the bank account that sealed the deal? Or perhaps," she leaned in conspiratorially, her perfume cloying and expensive, "a shared desperation? Liam does so love a project."

The delicate insult coated in honey did its work. Malicious curiosity flickered in Ella's eyes as she saw all budding onlookers staring at her. Here came the litmus test. Shall we slip-on under public attack? Her brittle facade threatened to break. She sensed Liam move in, ready for support with a grip monopoly on the protective hold-tight, breaking Rule One. Ella lightly cascaded her free hand across Liam's holding grip on her back; my move. She step-hopped slightly ahead with half a step, marking her presence just shy in front of Liam, directly in front of Isabella. Her smile grew wider, much warmer, and much more genuine-a weapon she had sharpened for countless boardroom battles.

IsUnnatural분에이전시. "Isabella," Ella said, her tone pleasant and conversational and thus witnessed in young minds the muted atmosphere that had overtaken all the men and women present. "Liam has told me so much about you!，So, Isn't it interesting how much a person reveals reli. Upon obscene obsessions? Living in the past, well, that must be tiring?" With her head tilted to one side and a childish innocence in her gaze. "But there are those people who feed on scraps from yesterdays! We- " She squeezed Liam's hand and leaned back slightly, bathing in that calm sense of possession. "Look to building our future. If you would excuse us, we are wanted by Charles Harrington. "She pointed elegantly at the Harrington patriarch across the room. "Darling?" She looked up at Liam, her eyes shining with fake adoration.

Liam's mask of icy control was incredible, yet Ella caught an infinitesimal flicker of surprise in his eyes, swiftly veiled by an expression of approval. "Of course, sweetheart." A curt nod to Isabella, whose smile had frozen into a rictus of fury. "Isabella. Enjoy the...scraps."

He navigated Ella away with a firm grip on her back. As they approached Charles Harrington, Ella felt the weight of Isabella's venomous glare into her shoulder blades. She kept her adorning smile-on; posture regal. The first skirmish was over; she had drawn blood. But the war, she knew, had just begun. The gala sparkled, which was a beautiful minefield. And whilst Liam's hand on her back had felt like protection, at this point, it was the one.utc anchor holding her through, barr задачивye dangerously.