What he doesn’t say
597 Words
The next week passed in a blur of cameras, events, designer fittings, and the constant whisper of heels on polished floors. Everywhere we went, we were the couple no one could ignore.
Mr. and Mrs. Thorne.
Perfect on paper.
Untouchable in public.
And completely fake.
At least… that’s what I kept telling myself.
Because every time Elias’s hand settled on the small of my back, every time his eyes dropped to my lips before flashing back up, I felt it.
The shift.
The crack in the contract.
The slow-burning undoing of every rule we agreed on.
And yet—he never crossed the line.
No kisses behind closed doors.
No lingering touches when the cameras stopped.
But his eyes? His eyes said everything his mouth didn’t.
And that was the most dangerous part.
---
It all fell apart at the charity gala.
It was a black-tie event. Hosted at a historic mansion in Manhattan, filled with people who drank thousand-dollar champagne while pretending to care about saving the world.
Elias wore black.
I wore red.
And when we walked in, every head turned.
“You’re trending,” he murmured against my ear as we stepped inside.
I blinked. “What?”
“Red dress. Thorne’s wife. Social media’s eating it up.”
“Good,” I replied. “Maybe they’ll stop focusing on your lack of personality.”
He chuckled. Actually chuckled. And it made something flip in my chest.
But the mood shifted the second *he* walked in.
Mason Hale.
Tech billionaire. Media darling. And Elias’s biggest competition in both business... and charm.
He walked straight toward us, champagne in one hand, smirk locked and loaded.
“Elias,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you with such radiant company.”
His eyes slid to me.
“And you must be the new Mrs. Thorne. I’ve heard... things.”
I raised a brow. “Good things, I hope.”
He smiled. “Mostly.”
Elias’s jaw flexed.
That tiny, subtle move?
Jealousy
Mason leaned closer, too close, and whispered, “If you ever get bored playing Mrs. Ice King, come find me. I’m very good at melting things.”
I smiled sweetly. “I’ll keep that in mind… after I finish spending his billions.”
Elias’s hand slid around my waist right after, not gently.
Possessively.
We walked away in silence, his grip still firm.
“You gonna break his jaw next time?” I asked.
“He touches you again, I might.”
I laughed, trying to keep it light. “Aw, is that a hint of protectiveness, Mr. Thorne?”
His gaze cut to mine. “He crossed a line.”
“So did you.”
We stopped in a quiet hallway, out of sight.
Elias stepped in front of me.
“I don’t like people thinking you’re available.”
“You *paid* for me to be available.”
“I paid for you to be mine.”
The air crackled between us.
My back hit the wall.
His hand pressed beside my head.
“Say it,” he whispered.
I swallowed. “Say what?”
“That you feel it too.”
I did.
But I couldn’t say it.
Because if I did, this contract? This line we’d drawn?
Gone.
So I slipped out from under his arm and walked away.
And for the first time since we signed that contract, Elias didn’t follow.
But his eyes stayed on me the rest of the night.
Like a man watching the one thing he swore he’d never want… but couldn’t stop needing.
---
- Writer
