The Valentine's Proposal

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Fine Line Between Truth and Lies

(Violet’s POV)

The evening air feels cool against my skin as we step out of the restaurant, the city lights reflecting off the glass of nearby skyscrapers. The night is quiet, but my mind is far from peaceful. Silver walks beside me, his long strides purposeful, while I struggle to match his pace.

“You did well tonight,” he says, glancing over at me with a pleased look in his eyes.

“Did I?” I murmur, trying not to sound as uncertain as I feel. The words still feel foreign on my tongue, “I love you, Silver,” but I said them. I played my part, and by all outward appearances, we looked like the perfect couple.

“Of course,” he replies, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No one doubts it. Not even Boris.”

My heart clenches at the mention of his name. “Boris won’t care,” I say quietly. “He doesn’t care about me.”

Silver’s gaze turns sharp. “He will, once he sees how serious this is. And trust me, he’ll see it soon enough. We’ve got to keep the pressure on.”

I nod stiffly, though part of me feels uneasy with his calculated approach. It’s as though Silver isn’t just playing a game; he’s setting a stage for something bigger—something I’m not sure I’m ready for.

We get into the car, the driver nodding silently as he pulls away from the curb. I sit in the back, my fingers nervously tapping against my thigh as I glance out the window. The city blurs by, but my thoughts remain fixed on the twisted web I’ve found myself in.

Silver watches me with quiet interest. “You’re thinking too much again,” he says, his tone a mixture of amusement and something darker.

“Maybe,” I reply, feeling the weight of the engagement ring on my finger. It’s a heavy reminder of the mess I’ve gotten myself into.

“Don’t overthink it,” Silver says softly, his voice a low murmur that draws my attention. “You wanted this. You wanted to make Boris feel something. Now, you’ve got it. Don’t let it slip through your fingers.”

I’m about to reply when the car slows down and comes to a stop outside of Silver’s penthouse building. I step out first, suddenly feeling the eyes of the doorman and several bystanders on me. The whole world knows I’m with Silver now.

When we reach the elevator, Silver presses the button for the penthouse, and we rise in silence. I feel the tension between us, the air thick with unspoken words. I want to say something, to ask him how he can be so calm about this whole thing. But I don’t. There’s too much riding on this—on us—on everything that’s happening.

The elevator dings as we reach the top floor, and Silver leads me down the hall to his apartment. The door opens with a smooth click, and we step inside. The familiar scent of his cologne greets me, but something feels different tonight.

“Are you alright?” Silver asks, turning toward me as he shuts the door.

I nod, but the lie is clear in my eyes. “I’m fine.”

But I’m not fine.

My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts—about Boris, about the engagement, about everything I’ve done and what I’m about to do. I need a moment to breathe. I need to step away from all of it.

“I need a drink,” I mutter, heading toward the bar area. I grab a glass, not caring what it is, just wanting to fill the silence.

Silver watches me, his gaze thoughtful but not surprised. He’s probably used to me avoiding things. I sip the drink, hoping it will numb the thoughts racing in my mind, but it doesn’t.

Silver comes over and stands beside me, his presence as imposing as ever. “You need to stop running from this. We’ve crossed the line. There’s no going back now.”

His words hit harder than I expect, and I lower the glass, feeling my hands shake slightly.

“You knew what this was when you agreed to it,” he continues, his voice firm but not unkind. “I’ll help you get your revenge on Boris, but you have to be ready for what’s coming next.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “This was supposed to be simple. Just a way to make Boris regret what he did.”

“Did you really think it would be simple?” Silver’s voice drops to a near growl. “You’re playing a game with high stakes, Violet. You want revenge, and now you’ve got it. But you have to follow through.”

I stare at him, his silver-gray eyes hardening as he watches me. “What do you want from me, Silver?”

His lips curl into a smirk. “I already told you. Nothing more than what we’ve agreed on. Just play your part, and we’ll both come out on top.”

I feel a knot form in my stomach. There’s something in the way he says it that makes me uneasy, like I’m nothing more than a pawn in his plan.

“Do you trust me?” Silver asks suddenly, his voice low and dangerous.

I hesitate. Trust him? Trust someone who sees everything as a transaction, a business deal? “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“That’s your first mistake,” he replies. “If you don’t trust me, this whole thing falls apart. You’re either with me, or you’re not.”

I can feel the weight of his words, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve made the wrong choice. But I push the thought away. I have no choice but to see this through.

---

The next few days are a blur of social media posts, fake smiles, and carefully planned public appearances. Silver keeps me busy, arranging meetings with his clients, dinners with his family, and press events that make the engagement feel all too real.

Through it all, Boris’s shadow looms over everything. He hasn’t reached out to me, not directly anyway. But I can feel his eyes on me, watching from the sidelines. It’s like he’s waiting for me to break, for me to crumble under the pressure. But I won’t.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

One night, after another exhausting dinner with Silver’s family, I return to my apartment, desperate for a moment of peace. But as soon as I walk through the door, my phone buzzes.

It’s a message from Boris.

I need to see you.

My heart skips a beat. I know I should ignore it. I should keep playing my part with Silver, keep pretending that I’m happy. But something pulls at me, something I can’t explain.

I type a quick reply, my fingers trembling.

Why?

The reply comes almost immediately.

We need to talk. It’s important.

I stare at the message for a moment, my thoughts swirling. Part of me wants to see him, to hear him beg for my forgiveness. But another part of me knows I can’t. Not when everything is at stake.

Still, I don’t delete the message. I leave it open, uncertain of what to do next.