The Contract That Bound Us

Chapter 6: The Gala

**Chapter 6: The Gala**

The dress arrived the next morning in a long black garment bag.

I unzipped it slowly. Deep emerald silk spilled out, the kind of fabric that caught the light and refused to let go. It was beautiful, expensive, and far more revealing than the black dress I had worn to dinner. A note in Adrian’s handwriting was pinned to the hanger:

*Wear this. No arguments.*

I almost smiled. Almost.

By the time evening came, Maria had helped me with the final details. Soft waves, subtle makeup, the diamond ring back on my finger. When I stepped into the living room, Adrian was already waiting, dressed in a black tuxedo that made him look even more untouchable than usual.

He turned at the sound of my heels. His eyes moved over me once, slowly, and something dark flashed into them before he locked it down.

“You look…” He stopped himself. “Appropriate.”

“High praise,” I said dryly.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Let’s go.”

The charity gala was held in a ballroom that glittered with crystal and old money. Cameras flashed the moment we stepped out of the car. Adrian’s hand settled at the small of my back, warm and steady, guiding me through the crowd like we had done this a hundred times.

People stared. Whispered. Smiled too widely.

For the next two hours, we performed.

He introduced me as his fiancée. I smiled, laughed softly when required, and rested my hand on his arm like it belonged there. Every time a photographer approached, Adrian pulled me closer. Once, when a board member’s wife asked how we met, he answered without hesitation.

“She walked into my office and refused to leave until I listened. I decided I wanted to keep her.”

The lie was smooth. Convincing. And for a dangerous second, I almost believed it myself.

Halfway through the night, Adrian was pulled away by a group of investors. I stood near the edge of the dance floor with a glass of champagne I wasn’t drinking, watching the crowd.

A man I didn’t recognize approached. Mid-thirties, confident smile, the kind of ease that came from never having to worry about money.

“You must be the famous Elena,” he said. “Adrian’s been very quiet about you until recently.”

“And are you?”

“Daniel Croft. My father is on the board.” His eyes flicked over me with open interest. “I have to say, you’re not what I expected.”

Before I could answer, a familiar presence appeared at my side. Adrian’s hand slid around my waist, firm and possessive.

“Daniel,” he said, voice pleasant and cold at the same time. “I see you’ve met my fiancée.”

Daniel’s smile didn’t fade, but something cautious entered his eyes. “I was just introducing myself.”

“Consider yourself introduced.” Adrian’s fingers pressed slightly against my side. “If you’ll excuse us.”

He guided me away without waiting for a reply. We didn’t stop until we reached a quieter hallway near the restrooms. The moment we were out of sight, Adrian dropped his hand.

“Stay away from him,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “I was only talking.”

“I don’t care. Daniel Croft is the type who collects women like trophies. You’re not available for collection.”

The words landed harder than they should have. “I’m not available for anything. Remember? This is a contract.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. He looked like he wanted to say something else, then stopped himself. Instead, he reached up and adjusted the thin strap of my dress that had slipped slightly off my shoulder. His fingers brushed my skin, lingering a second too long.

Neither of us moved.

The hallway was quiet. Distant music and laughter floated from the ballroom. Adrian’s gaze dropped to my mouth, then lifted again, darker than before.

“We should go back,” he said, voice low.

“Should we?”

For one suspended moment, I thought he might close the distance. His hand was still resting against my shoulder, thumb moving almost unconsciously across my skin. I could feel the tension radiating from him, the same battle I fought every time he touched me in public.

Then someone laughed loudly nearby, and the spell broke.

Adrian stepped back as if burned. The cold mask returned so quickly it almost hurt to watch.

“Yes,” he said. “We should.”

We returned to the ballroom and finished the evening without another private word. On the ride home, he sat on the opposite side of the car, staring out the window, the distance between us wider than the seat.

When the elevator doors opened into the penthouse, he spoke without looking at me.

“The lawyer will be here at ten tomorrow morning with the marriage papers. Be ready.”

I watched him walk toward his study, the emerald dress still whispering around my legs, the ghost of his touch still warm on my shoulder.

Two weeks had become less than two weeks.

And the most dangerous part wasn’t the ceremony.

It was the way my body already missed his hand the moment he took it away.