Chapter Four – First Night Out
936 Words
The dress wasn’t mine.
It fit, but not the way my clothes usually did. Too precise. Too intentional. I kept tugging at the hem as the car moved, my knee bouncing despite myself.
Xander noticed.
“Stop pulling it,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve adjusted it six times.”
I dropped my hand. “Then stop counting.”
He didn’t reply.
The car slowed. Light spilled through the tinted windows. I caught a glimpse of marble steps, security, quiet money. This wasn’t the kind of place people trended. This was the kind of place things were decided without noise.
The door opened.
Xander stepped out first. This time, he didn’t wait. His hand came back automatically, palm open.
I looked at it.
Just for a second.
Then I took it.
Inside was calm. Too calm. Soft music. Low voices. Everyone dressed like they belonged. Heads turned when we entered, interest flickering and then smoothing into polite smiles.
No cameras.
That almost made it worse.
A woman approached us, glass in hand. “Xander. We weren’t sure you’d make it.”
“I said I would,” he replied.
Her eyes shifted to me. Brief. Curious.
“And this must be”
“Amara,” I said before he could answer.
Xander’s fingers tightened around mine. Not a warning. A reminder.
“Amara,” he repeated. “Yes.”
The woman smiled. “Welcome.”
She moved on.
I leaned closer to him. “You didn’t say I should let you introduce me.”
“You didn’t ask.”
I pulled my hand away.
His jaw tightened. Just a little.
We were led to a table. People stopped by. Greetings. Light questions. I answered where I could. When I couldn’t, I stayed quiet.
Until I didn’t.
“So how did you two meet?” a man asked, smiling like he already knew the answer.
Xander opened his mouth.
“We met through work,” I said.
His head turned toward me.
“Oh?” the man said. “What kind?”
“Marketing,” I replied. “I handle campaigns.”
Xander’s expression didn’t change, but something in the air did.
The man nodded. “Interesting.”
He walked away.
Xander leaned closer. “That wasn’t the plan.”
“You said be natural.”
“I said be consistent.”
“I wasn’t lying.”
“No,” he said. “You were improvising.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not reciting a script.”
“Then don’t sabotage one.”
That did it.
“I am not sabotaging anything,” I said, voice low but sharp. “I’m standing here, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” he replied. “And you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
I laughed once. “You brought me here.”
“I brought you here to observe.”
“Like an accessory.”
His eyes darkened. “Careful.”
I stood up. “I need air.”
“Amara.”
I didn’t stop.
Outside, the night was cooler. Quiet. I pressed my palms against the stone railing and stared out at the city lights below. My chest felt tight, but I refused to breathe too deeply. I wasn’t going to look rattled. Not again.
Footsteps behind me.
“I told you not to walk off,” Xander said.
“I told you I wasn’t a prop.”
“You embarrassed me.”
I turned. “You don’t get embarrassed.”
His mouth twitched. Not a smile.
“You don’t know that.”
We stood there, facing each other, the space between us charged and uncomfortable.
“You can’t keep pushing,” he said. “This only works if you don’t fight every step.”
“I’m not fighting,” I replied. “I’m existing.”
“In my world,” he said, “those are different things.”
I scoffed. “Then maybe your world isn’t built for people.”
Silence.
He looked at me for a long moment. Not angry. Assessing.
“Get back inside,” he said finally. “Stay close. Don’t speak unless necessary.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then we end this early,” he said. “And you deal with what comes next alone.”
There it was.
The cost.
I stared at him, jaw clenched. Then I turned and walked back inside.
I stayed close after that. Quiet. Observant. I smiled when required. Nodded. Let him lead.
It worked.
Too well.
On the way out, someone brushed past me and murmured, “She’s not what I expected.”
I didn’t ask what they meant.
In the car, the silence returned.
“You didn’t have to threaten me,” I said finally.
“I didn’t,” he replied. “I warned you.”
I looked out the window. “You enjoy control too much.”
“And you resist it even when it hurts you,” he said.
Neither of us spoke after that.
When the car stopped outside my building, he didn’t get out.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “we do better.”
I paused with my hand on the door.
“I don’t do perfect,” I said. “If that’s what you need, find someone else.”
His gaze held mine.
“Then don’t make mistakes you can’t afford,” he replied.
I stepped out and shut the door.
As the car pulled away, my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
You shouldn’t have gone outside alone.
I stared at the screen.
So much for quiet rooms.
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