Bound to the Billionaire's Vow

CHAPTER 3

The Wife Exhibit

Alina’s POV | First Person

It’s wild how a dress can change your life.

Yesterday I was stitched into a white gown and handed over to a man like a ribboned offering. Today I’m zipped into a skin-tight navy blue dress that screams billionaire’s wife, and I don’t even know how to walk in it.

This is too much, I muttered, tugging the neckline up for the fifth time. People will think I’m a trophy. A prize he won, not a person he married. The dress feels less like fabric and more like a price tag.

A wife, Ruth, Dominic’s house manager, said without looking up from the jewelry tray. You’re supposed to look expensive, darling. Not affordable.

The earrings were heavy. The necklace probably cost more than my college tuition. My hair had been twisted into a sleek low bun by a woman named Bina who didn’t smile once the entire time she worked on me. The whole morning felt like a makeover montage in a movie except I wasn’t the one getting a happy ending.

I was being packaged.

Ruth stood behind me and adjusted my shoulders.

Straighten up. Don’t hunch. That makes you look apologetic.

I am apologetic.

Well stop it. Fake it. No one wants to see a guilty bride. They want grace. They want elegance. They want to believe you were born into this world, not dragged into it.

I blinked at my reflection.

My face looked the same. But my eyes they didn’t.

They looked haunted.

The ride to the gallery was quiet. Not the peaceful kind the heavy, awkward kind that made the silence feel personal.

Dominic didn’t say a word. Just kept scrolling through his phone like I wasn’t even there. Six inches away, in a dress I was sure he hadn’t noticed. Or cared about.

I stared out the window, pretending it didn’t bother me. Pretending I didn’t care. But I did. More than I wanted to. I reminded myself this wasn’t a real marriage. That his silence was probably a gift. That this whole thing was just temporary.

Still, the silence felt loud.

I cleared my throat.

He didn’t look up.

You could’ve said good morning, you know.

He blinked once, slow, then glanced at me. We’re not doing small talk.

Not even in the car?

No.

I turned to look out the window. You know, for someone who married me, you really hate being in the same space as me.

I don’t hate you, he said blandly. I don’t think about you at all.”

Ouch.

My lips pressed together.

I faced forward and stayed quiet for the rest of the drive.

The event was being held at the Blackwell Art Gallery a sleek, glass-walled building in the Upper East Side. Apparently, Dominic’s mother had been big on art collected it, loved it, lived for it. This gallery was her legacy. Her world.

And now, I was standing in it completely out of place.

The room buzzed with people I’d never met, cameras I wished would look anywhere else, and whispers that weren’t even trying to be subtle. I heard them. All of them.

And I smiled like I didn’t.

There she is, someone hissed as we stepped in.

God, she looks like a child.

She doesn’t even have a family name.

Must’ve been desperate.

My hands clenched around the tiny clutch Ruth had shoved into them.

Dominic’s grip tightened on my waist.

Don’t flinch, he said under his breath.

People are staring, I whispered back.

They’re always staring. That’s their job. Yours is to survive it.

Easy for him to say. He was used to this. He had money, presence, and that lethal indifference that made people step back when he entered a room. I was just me. Unpolished. Untrained. Unwanted.

I smiled at the cameras anyway.

Because that’s what wives do.

We were halfway through pretending to look at a painting when someone I hadn’t met before appeared in front of us with a champagne flute and a smile too perfect to be real.

Dominic, the woman purred. You didn’t tell me she’d be so different.

I didn’t like her.

Dominic gave a polite nod. Ava.

Oh.

So this was her.

The ex.

She looked like she’d walked straight out of a Vogue cover high cheekbones, that sleek black dress hugging her like it was made just for her, and a kind of posture that screamed confidence.

Like the room belonged to her. Like the rest of us were just background noise. I suddenly felt like a placeholder in heels.

Alina, is it? she said sweetly. That’s such a delicate name. Like a flower.

I smiled. A bit ironic, isn’t it?

Her eyes narrowed.

Dominic sipped his drink. Ava, now’s not the time.

But it is, darling,she purred. Everyone’s dying to know what does Alina do? Did she study law? Finance? Oh, or is she just naturally this graceful?

My nails dug into the clutch.

I’m a painter, I said.

Her eyebrows shot up. Oh. That’s sweet.

She’s very good, Dominic said flatly, surprising us both.

Ava turned slowly, her eyes sharp now. Is that so?

He didn’t answer. Just looked over my head and signaled one of the staff members to come over.

Ava was dismissed. But I could still feel her perfume lingering like smoke.

Later, while Dominic got swept into some conversation with a circle of suited men all sharp laughs and firmer handshakes quietly slipped out into a back hallway.

And finally I exhaled. Like I’d been holding my breath the whole night.

My feet hurt.

My face hurt from fake smiling.

And my heart was tired.

I leaned back against the wall and slipped off one heel, sighing as I rubbed the ache in my arch. It was the kind of pain that reminded me I didn’t belong in nights like this.

Long day? a voice said from behind me.

I turned quickly.

A tall man in a navy suit stood there, sipping wine and smirking.

Sorry, I said. Didn’t mean to block the hallway.

You’re not, he said. I just wanted to see the new Mrs. Blackwell up close. Rumor says you’re a mystery.

Rumor says a lot of things.

He chuckled. True. I’m Sebastian. Dominic’s cousin. Not the evil uncle don’t worry.

I managed a polite smile. Nice to meet you.

Heard you’re an artist.

I nodded. Trying to be.

I’d love to see your work sometime. Unless Dominic’s locking you in a tower already.

I gave a weak laugh. Not yet.

His smile faltered. Hey. If you ever feel like you need a friend I’m not on Vincent’s side. And you look like you could use one.

My chest tightened.

Before I could reply, Dominic appeared at the end of the hallway.

His eyes landed on Sebastian, then on me. Then on how close we were standing.

He didn’t say a word. Just walked over and slipped a firm arm around my waist.

Sebastian, he said coolly.

Dom, Sebastian returned, eyes sparkling.

You good? Dominic asked me without looking at me.

I nodded quickly.

Good, he said. Because we’re leaving.

The car ride home was frostbite.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t even glance my way.

Just sat there, fingers drumming on the leather armrest, jaw clenched like he was holding something in.

I opened my mouth to say something anything but the words caught in my throat.

Because the truth was, I didn’t owe him a damn thing. And he certainly wasn’t owed explanations.

But still I hated the weight of the silence.

Finally, he said, Stay away from Sebastian.

I blinked. What?

I don’t repeat myself.

Why? Because you saw me standing near him?

Because he’s reckless. And because this marriage I tried not to argue.

You know, I said quietly, I’m not the one causing all the whispers.

His head turned sharply. What’s that supposed to mean?

I didn’t invite Ava. I didn’t ask for cameras. I didn’t sign up to be paraded like a purchase. But I still showed up. I still smiled.

He said nothing.

I turned back to the window. You didn’t marry a doll, Dominic. And I’m trying. But if you want this to work in public, maybe start treating me like something more tha

n a pawn.

The car slowed at the penthouse entrance.

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t even look at me.

But as I stepped out of the car and walked into the building, I swore I heard him mutter behind me.

Pawns win games too.