The Dragon's Fake Fiancée

The First Test

---

The text came at 6:47 AM.

Be ready at 8. Wear something that screams "I'm sleeping with the devil." Black. Red. Nothing in between. — K

I stared at my phone for a full thirty seconds, debating whether to throw it across the room or reply with something creative involving anatomical impossibilities.

Instead, I typed: Define "screaming."

His response was immediate: You'll know it when you see it.

I hated him.

I really, truly hated him.

---

Two hours later, I stood in front of my closet like it had personally offended me.

Black or red. Nothing in between.

The black dress was safe. Elegant. The kind of thing that said I have my life together without trying too hard. But safe wasn't what Kael had asked for. Safe wasn't what this required.

So I reached for the red.

It was a dress I'd bought on a whim two years ago, back when I still had money and hope and the naive belief that things would get better. Sleeveless. Plunging. Cut so low in the back that it practically begged for someone to trace their fingers down my spine.

I'd never worn it.

Never had the courage.

But today, staring at my reflection in the mirror, I realized something: courage wasn't about feeling brave. It was about doing the thing anyway, even when every cell in your body was screaming run.

So I put on the dress.

Added heels that made my legs look endless.

Painted my lips the color of fresh blood.

And when the doorbell rang at exactly 8:00, I opened it to find Kael Draven standing in my hallway, looking like he'd just stepped off the cover of a very expensive magazine.

His gaze swept over me.

Once.

Twice.

And then his jaw tightened in a way that made my stomach flip.

"You're staring," I said.

"I'm assessing."

"Same thing."

"Not even close." He stepped forward, close enough that I could smell that infuriating cologne. "Assessing means I'm checking for flaws. Staring means I'm appreciating."

I raised an eyebrow. "And which one is this?"

His lips curved. "Wouldn't you like to know."

---

The car was a sleek black monstrosity that probably cost more than my entire apartment building. The driver didn't speak. The partition between us and the front seat was up. And Kael sat across from me like a king on his throne, watching me with those unreadable golden eyes.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Brunch."

"Brunch."

"With my family."

Every muscle in my body went rigid. "You didn't mention family."

"I'm mentioning it now."

"Kael—"

"You wanted to know what you signed up for." His voice was calm. Infuriatingly calm. "This is it. My mother. My sister. And my grandmother, who will probably try to poison you within the first ten minutes."

"That's not—" I stopped. Took a breath. "You could have warned me."

"Would you have come?"

"No."

"Exactly."

I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to scream. I wanted to do something other than sit here in this ridiculously expensive car, wearing a dress that suddenly felt far too revealing, about to meet the family of the man who'd just turned my life into a very elaborate game of chess.

"How do I act?" I finally asked.

"Like you're desperately in love with me."

"I'm not an actress."

"You don't have to be. Just look at me like I'm the only person in the room." His voice dropped. "Like you can't wait to get me alone."

I swallowed hard. "That's a lot of pressure."

"Pressure makes diamonds, little phoenix." He leaned forward, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Or in your case, pressure makes fire. I've seen it. I'm counting on it."

---

His mother was terrifying.

Not in an obvious way—she didn't scream or throw things or threaten me with bodily harm. Instead, she smiled. A perfect, porcelain smile that didn't reach her eyes. The kind of smile that said I'm going to eat you alive and enjoy every second of it.

"Elara, darling." She kissed both my cheeks and left a smear of red lipstick on my skin. "Kael has told me so much about you."

"I'm sure he has." I kept my voice light. "Most of it probably untrue."

She laughed. It was a tinkling, practiced sound. "Oh, I like her. She's got teeth."

"Teeth and claws," Kael said, sliding an arm around my waist. "I'm a very lucky man."

His touch was warm. Steady. The kind of casual intimacy that looked effortless. I leaned into it, tilting my head toward his shoulder like we'd done this a thousand times.

"Mom." A new voice cut through the tension. "Stop intimidating the poor girl."

Kael's sister emerged from the dining room, all effortless grace and dark hair. She was beautiful in the way that made you feel instantly inadequate—but her smile was genuine. Warm. Nothing like her mother's.

"I'm Seraphina," she said, pulling me into a quick hug. "And please ignore everything Mother says. She's been planning Kael's wedding since he was twelve."

"A mother can dream," his mother said, waving a dismissive hand.

I laughed. It came out surprisingly natural.

And then I saw her.

Kael's grandmother.

She was seated at the head of the table, ancient and fragile-looking, with silver hair swept into an elegant twist. But her eyes—her eyes were sharp. Calculating. The kind of eyes that had seen everything and forgotten nothing.

"Elara Verath." Her voice was paper-thin. "I've heard about you."

"All good things, I hope."

"Mostly," she said. "Your mother, on the other hand—"

"Grandmother." Kael's voice was sharp. A warning.

"I'm just making conversation." The old woman smiled, and it was a knife in velvet. "I was going to say that Elara's mother is a very ambitious woman. The kind who'd do anything to climb the social ladder."

The air went cold.

I felt every eye in the room on me. Waiting. Watching to see how I'd react.

So I smiled back.

"Ambition runs in the family," I said sweetly. "I learned from the best."

Kael's grandmother laughed. It was a rusty, genuine sound that transformed her ancient face.

"Oh, I definitely like her," she said. "Kael, dear, you've outdone yourself."

---

The rest of brunch was a minefield.

Kael's mother probed for weaknesses. His sister asked questions that felt like friendship but smelled like research. And his grandmother watched me with those ancient eyes, cataloging everything I did, every word I said, every micro-expression that crossed my face.

But Kael was there.

Every time I faltered, his hand found mine under the table.

Every time I hesitated, his gaze met mine, steady and sure.

And somewhere in the middle of dessert, I realized I wasn't pretending anymore.

The way he looked at me—the way he touched me—it felt real. More real than anything I'd experienced in years.

"Lovely girl." His grandmother's voice cut through my thoughts. "Tell me, Elara. Why did you agree to marry my grandson?"

The table fell silent.

I met her eyes. And for the first time, I told the truth—or close enough to it that it didn't feel like lying.

"Because he looked at me," I said, "like I was worth saving. And no one's looked at me that way in a very long time."

Kael's grandmother stared at me for a long moment.

Then she nodded, slow and approving.

"Good answer," she said. "Now pass the scones."

---

After brunch, Kael walked me to the car.

His hand was on the small of my back, warm and possessive. His mother had kissed my cheeks again. His sister had hugged me and whispered "call me" in my ear. And his grandmother had pressed a small emerald ring into my palm when no one was looking.

For luck, she'd said.

I didn't know what to make of any of it.

"You did well," Kael said, once we were alone in the car.

"I feel like I just survived a war."

"That's the Dravens for you." He smiled, and it was almost soft. "You passed, by the way."

"Passed what?"

"The grandmother test." He reached over, taking my hand. "She gave you her ring. She's never done that before."

I looked down at the emerald on my finger. It was gorgeous—old, antique, the kind of thing that probably had a history full of blood and betrayal.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

Kael's eyes met mine.

"It means she approves," he said quietly. "Which means this just got real."

His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand.

And I realized, with a jolt of something I didn't want to name, that I didn't want him to let go.