Tied to my enemy

Chapter Two: The Engagement Gala

Velencia City pulsed with golden light that night — glass towers gleamed like stars, and the air was thick with the scent of perfume, champagne, and whispered scandal.

Inside the Crown Hotel Ballroom, a thousand lights shimmered above crystal chandeliers, casting their glow over the city’s richest and most ruthless.

The Armand–Vale Engagement Gala was the event of the year.

Every camera lens, every gossip columnist, every pair of watching eyes waited for the spectacle — the merger of two empires through marriage. But beneath the surface glimmered something darker, hatred and control.

A love story born of blackmail and revenge.

Celeste Armand stood behind the tall velvet curtains at the side of the ballroom, her pulse pounding in her ears. The music was soft, romantic — a cruel irony. She wore a gown of pale gold silk, her hair swept into a loose chignon, her lips painted crimson. She looked like a goddess sculpted to perfection, elegant and untouchable.

If only anyone knew she was breaking inside.

Seraphine had personally chosen the gown, ensuring Celeste looked flawless for the cameras. “Remember to smile, darling,” she’d whispered before leaving her side. “You represent the family and the press loves perfection.”

Celeste didn’t feel perfect. She felt like a pawn about to step onto a chessboard she never chose.

The ballroom doors opened, and the host’s voice rang out, commanding silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our guests of honor Miss Celeste Armand and Mr. Lysander Vale.”

Applause erupted.

Celeste inhaled sharply and stepped out into the glittering light. Cameras flashed, murmurs rippled. Every eye turned toward her and then toward the man walking beside her.

Lysander Vale.

He looked devastating in a black tuxedo, tall and composed, his expression coolly polite. When his hand brushed hers for the photographers, her pulse stuttered not from affection, but from rage.

He leaned close enough for only her to hear.

“Smile, Celeste the vultures are watching.”

She smiled perfectly. “I’d rather bare my teeth.”

“Then do it prettily,” he murmured.

Click. Flash. The cameras caught them in their picture-perfect pose — the flawless couple. The city’s power pair. The lie.

Hours passed in a blur of conversation and champagne. Celeste danced with investors, smiled at journalists, played the part. But her mind was elsewhere trapped in the moment she’d been told her future was no longer her own.

Lysander stood across the room, talking to her father and several shareholders. He looked every inch the tycoon — confident, unreadable. Every once in a while, their eyes met. Every time they did, sparks flared — anger, pride, something else neither could name.

“Miss Armand,” a voice interrupted, smooth and mocking.

She turned to see Sebastian Vale, Lysander’s younger brother charming, reckless, the kind of man tabloids adored.

“You look stunning,” he said, offering a playful grin. “Almost makes me wish you were marrying me instead.”

She forced a smile. “Then the world would end even faster.”

He chuckled. “Fair point. Still, I’m sorry for what my brother’s dragged you into. He’s… not exactly gentle.”

Her eyes softened for a heartbeat. “You think I can’t handle him?”

Sebastian’s smile faltered slightly. “I think you might be the only one who can.”

Before she could respond, Lysander appeared beside them, his expression turning cold as winter.

“Sebastian,” he said flatly. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

Sebastian smirked. “Just keeping your fiancée entertained.”

“She doesn’t need your help,” Lysander said, his tone low and final.

Celeste crossed her arms. “If you’re done marking your territory, Mr. Vale, I’d like to breathe again.”

A few guests turned to glance their way sensing tension like sharks scenting blood.

Lysander leaned in, his voice a dark whisper. “You enjoy provoking me, don’t you?”

“Only when it works,” she replied sweetly.

He smiled that slow, dangerous smile that made her heart trip for reasons she refused to admit. “Careful, Celeste you’ll make me think you like the attention.”

She stepped closer, close enough that her perfume wrapped around him like a challenge. “If I liked your attention, Lysander, you’d know.”

“Trust me,” he murmured, “I already do.”

Their eyes locked — blue fire against storm grey until someone coughed nearby and the spell broke. Lysander turned away smoothly, masking the tension with another polite smile for the cameras.

Later, the speeches began. Augustus Armand took the stage first, thanking everyone for attending. He spoke of partnership, legacy, and family words that meant nothing to Celeste anymore.

Then came Lysander’s turn.

He took the microphone, calm and confident, his voice deep and smooth. “This union marks not only the joining of two companies but the continuation of a vision — one built on trust, strength, and commitment.”

He looked at her as he said the last word.

Commitment.

The crowd sighed with admiration. Celeste wanted to scream.

When it was her turn, she walked to the stage, smile fixed, hands steady. She took the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming,” she began, her voice clear. “My father and Mr. Vale have worked hard to make this partnership possible.” She paused, then smiled too sweetly. “And while I can’t say this arrangement began with love, I’m certain it will be… educational.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, light but uneasy. Lysander’s jaw tightened.

She went on, voice dripping with controlled venom. “They say opposites attract, don’t they? Let’s hope that’s true. Otherwise, the tabloids will have plenty to write about.”

A few gasps. A few nervous chuckles. Cameras flashed.

Lysander’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened and she knew she’d struck a nerve.

When she stepped down, he caught her wrist beneath the table, his grip firm but discreet.

“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured.

“Immensely.”

“Keep testing me, Celeste,” he said softly, “and I’ll start playing back.”

She met his gaze without flinching. “Then we’re even.”

The rest of the night passed like a storm in slow motion with polite smiles, whispered threats, lingering glances that burned more than either would admit.

By the time the gala ended, the city lights outside had begun to fade into the pale promise of dawn.

Celeste slipped out to the balcony for air, the chill wind tugging at her hair. The ballroom behind her still echoed with laughter and music, but here it was quiet. The ocean glimmered far in the distance, dark and endless.

She closed her eyes, breathing hard. For a moment, she let herself feel it — the anger, the fear, the strange pull toward the man she was supposed to hate.

Then the door opened.

She didn’t have to turn to know it was him. His presence filled the air like smoke and shadow.

“You’re good at pretending,” Lysander said quietly. “Almost convinced me you’re fine with this.”

She turned to face him, her expression calm. “You’re confusing pretending with surviving.”

He took a step closer, the city lights catching the sharp angles of his face. “You don’t have to fight me, Celeste.”

“Then stop giving me reasons to.”

His gaze softened for the first time — barely. “Maybe I want you to fight me.”

“Then you’ll get exactly what you want,” she said.

Their eyes locked again, the air between them humming with tension — something wild, unspoken, dangerous.

Then she stepped past him, her perfume lingering as she said softly, “Goodnight, Mr. Vale.”

When she was gone, Lysander stood alone on the balcony, staring out over Velencia’s skyline. The world saw him as cold, untouchable. But as the wind brushed against his face, he realized she was the first person in years who’d managed to make him feel anything.

And that made her dangerous.