Love by Contract

Aria’s POV The navy-blue gown I wore hugs me like a second skin, accentuating my curves. I chose it because Enzo once said the color made my eyes look hot. And tonight I needed to look hot. The Shimmering Plaza is the most popular ballroom in New York high society. Here, every laugh is calculated, every glance is watchful. This is a room where reputations are made and ruined. The Kerry family’s first daughter got embarrassed here three months ago. She has not been seen ever since. Rumor has it that she had traveled abroad, but that’s not why I’m here. I stand near a marble pillar, a champagne flute in my hand, scanning the crowd for the hundredth time. He’s late. Again. My thumb brushes the bare spot on my left ring finger before I can stop it. Enzo had told me he’d get married to me after his deal was finalized. That was six months ago. I’m starting to wonder if I can still be patient. But I don’t want to pressure him. A memory cuts through the noise and music. My mother’s hands were fragile in mine, her grip still firm. “Aria, my beautiful girl, I’m so proud of you,” she said. Then she turned to Enzo, my boyfriend since our first year of college, the boy who brought me coffee every morning, the one who swore he loved me and would be with me when my mother’s cancer report came out. “You’re going to take care of her for me, okay?” my mother said. She removed her ring. A delicate vintage band, with thin gold around a deep blue sapphire. She pressed it into Enzo’s palm. “When the time is right,” she whispered, her voice already fading, “give it to her then.” That was one of the last clear memories I have of my mother. After she died, everything changed. My father drank himself to sleep most nights. Sometimes he didn’t come home at all. When he did, he smelled like alcohol. He forgot I was grieving too. Forgot I still needed him. Enzo became my anchor. He swore he would never leave me, and I believed him. Then one day, my father started coming home early. He smiled more. He checked his reflection repeatedly in the mirror before leaving the house. I wondered what happened and well, Lilian happened. And along with her came her perfect daughter, Monica. Monica was bold. She commanded attention without trying. She walked into the rooms and owned it. My father adored her instantly. It started subtly. Monica got the bigger bedroom because she loved sunlight there. Her achievements were celebrated with dinners and gifts, while mine were acknowledged with nods and tight smiles. If Monica wanted something, she got it. While I was told to be understanding, to be considerate. I don’t know when it happened, but I started to shrink. The only thing that was constant was Enzo Hart. Enzo was easy. He smiled warmly. He knew what to say. He never challenged me, never demanded more than I could give. He loved me for who I was. He became my rock. Earlier that evening, I arrived at the Shimmering Plaza alone. As usual. My hair fell loose over my shoulders. Enzo was late. Tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight, he had promised. Then the ballroom door opened. And everything stopped. Enzo Hart stepped through. His blond hair swept back, he looked good in his black tuxedo, his familiar boyish smile on his face that made my heart flutter. I took a step toward him. Then I realized he wasn’t alone. Monica walked beside him, her hand tucked around his arm. Her champagne silk gown hugged her like a second skin. I froze. I watched them cross the ballroom. Everyone turned to look at them, looking at them with surprise and scrutiny. They stopped three feet away. Monica’s blue eyes sparkled with pride and something else. “Aria,” she said sweetly. “You’re here too.” I looked at Enzo and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Enzo wanted to make things official tonight,” Monica said lightly, her hand tightening around his arm. “I hope you don’t mind.” My vision blurred. “What?” I said with a humorless laugh. Suddenly, the room felt too bright and I felt tears cloud my vision. Then I saw it. The ring. My mother’s ring. My ring. I looked at it again. Then at Enzo’s face. Then back at the ring again. I swallowed hard. “That’s my mother’s ring,” I said quietly. Enzo finally looked up. His mouth opened and then closed again. Nothing came out. How embarrassing. I sniffled, let out a harsh breath, forced my chin up, and turned away before the tears could fall. I took slow, deliberate steps to the bar, set my champagne glass aside, and ordered something stronger. When the drink was placed in front of me, I downed it in one gulp. It burned down my throat and I winced. Monica followed me. “Aria,” she said softly, “I hope you aren’t going to cause a scene. And let’s be honest, Enzo deserves better than… well, you.” I turned slowly and met her gaze and let out a scoff. “You f*****g bitch.” Her smile dropped. “What did you just say to me?” she screeched. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep a ma—” “Sorry I’m late, darling. Traffic was terrible.” The smooth, deep voice cut her off immediately. A large, warm hand slid around my waist and a brief kiss pressed to my temple. I turned. Sean Hunter. His dark hair, sharp jaw, his cold black eyes came into view. His expression was calm and he looked devastatingly handsome. He squeezed my waist gently, grounding me, then faced Monica and Enzo. “Well,” Monica said tightly, “this is… unexpected.” Sean glanced at her with disinterest. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” “Monica Romano,” she said, recovering quickly. Enzo swallowed. “Mr. Hunter, I didn’t know you and Aria were—” “Engaged,” Sean finished for him. “We prefer to keep our private life private.” Enzo looks like he might throw up. Sean cleared his throat. “Attention, everyone.” The surrounding guests turned towards us completely. “I’d like to introduce you all to my fiancée—Aria Romano.” He turned to me and smiled. My heart slammed against my ribs. How the hell does he know my name?