"A ball?" I echoed, baffled. "I only just became your fiancée, and now I have to attend a ball?"
Anthony's brows drew into a hard line, his lips pressed thin with disapproval.
"What did I say about following my rules?"
I clamped my mouth shut.
He exhaled sharply. "Perhaps you didn't read the contract thoroughly. It clearly states that you're expected to show your face, and more than that, you'll need to be a convincing actress. This needs to feel real."
He dropped the red dress on the bed with a flick of his wrist, then slid his hand into his pocket as he walked toward me. His steps were deliberate, calm, yet commanding.
When he reached me, his fingers rose to my cheeks, calloused but warm. He caressed it slowly.
"No one knows this is fake, Alicia," he murmured, and the way he said my name sent a flutter through my stomach. "Not the staff, not my board, not the media. Tonight, I'll show you off as my fiancée. That means you'll act like it's real—and you'll act well."
My breath caught.
"Very well," I said, but my voice barely came out above a whisper.
"Good," he said quietly, his eyes flicking to my lips for the briefest second before locking back onto mine. "Another rule."
"A rule again?" I groaned.
He nodded once. "Yes. A rule. You wear whatever I send to you."
"But…" I hesitated, glancing at the red dress draped across the bed.
"Even though everyone might think this is a lie, especially because they do, I won't have people assuming I can't afford to dress my woman."
I let out an awkward laugh and gestured toward the open wardrobe. "But you already bought me so many beautiful dresses. Isn't that enough?"
His eyes narrowed, tone cold and final. "You wear what I bring."
I sighed and gave a reluctant nod. "Fine"
"Another rule"
"Huh. If you have so many rules, why didn't you include them in the contract?"
His frown deepened, his brows drawing low over his sharp eyes. "You're not to enter my room unless I invite you."
I blinked. "But you get to come into mine?"
He didn't flinch. "Yes."
I took a step back, shaking my head slowly. "Why me? Why all this?"
His voice turned steel. "Because you need to survive. This is merely a favor, and you should be grateful."
I folded my arms, frustration bubbling beneath my skin. I knew I should be grateful, but what was all this?
"I was a bargain. You bought me… from my father."
His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile, "Is that how you see it? Very well. If that's what you think."
He turned to walk away, but paused. His gaze flicked from the red dress on the bed to me.
"The housekeeper will help you dr....."
"I can dress myself." My voice was sharp.
It wasn't like I'd been born poor. My father just squandered everything....and that's why I'm standing in this mess.
Anthony shrugged, "Be ready when I call for you. You have to keep to time."
"Anthony," I said quietly.
He stilled, his gaze sweeping over me, slow and unreadable. It was the first time I'd said his name aloud. It felt strange..like cold metal on my tongue. It made me shiver.
He stood there for a moment, tall and composed, his dark hair rakishly parted. He was silent, watching me.
I swallowed hard as the next words slipped from my lips. "What if… what if I ever fall in love with you? What happens then?"
Something flickered in his eyes..something I couldn't quite place. Beneath that cold, unreadable stare was a flash of emotion, fleeting and gone before I could grasp it.
Then he started walking towards me, every step causing my heart to beat, his eyes were now darker than before. Without warning, he seized my wrist, his grip firm enough to make me flinch.
He leaned in, his breath brushing the shell of my ear. "I will ruin you… if you do."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Anthony held my gaze, his own like steel. "Don't even entertain it, Alicia."
But why? Why was that the one rule he set apart from all the rest? I wasn't planning to fall in love—not when I was counting the days until I could leave. Still, something about his reaction left my thoughts tangled. And I wanted to ask more but he pushed himself from me.
Anthony stepped back, a grimace flickering across his face, so deep it looked like a warning, he clearly didn't like where this was headed and so he was going to completely ignore it.
"Get ready in one hour," he murmured, then turned and walked out the door.
I swallowed hard as the door clicked shut behind him.
A sharp ache clenched my chest. After everything that had happened today, this was the first moment I was truly alone—and the weight of it all crashed down on me, making my heart throb with pain.
I had been sold by my own father.
And now, I was a woman with a new identity.
Why did it have to be that cold man of all people, someone who barely looked away from his phone? Someone who have caged his heart that the mere mention of love feels like a plague. Even though this was fake, how can I live with him under the same roof for a year?
I walked over to the dress laid out on the bed. The moment I lifted it, my lips parted in awe. The red dress is made in velvet fabric, soft against my hands and expensive.
Not just the dress—there was a box of jewelry and a pair of black heels beside it.
He might be cold, but he certainly had an eye for fashion.
After dinner, just as I finished dressing for the ball, a man knocked on my door. A man dressed in a crisp suit, he handed me a file. He must be Mr. Blake's assistant.
Inside was a neatly typed pages that detailed how we met, our first date, and his favorite wine.
All a script. All lies.
I barely had time to skim it before the moment to leave for the ball arrived...