❀LENA❀

The dress was a weapon.

Black silk that clung to every curve, cut low in the back, slit high on the thigh. Diamonds at my throat borrowed from some vault. Hair swept up by a stylist who'd been coldly professional.

I looked like I belonged in Adrian's world.

I felt like an imposter.

"You look beautiful."

I turned. Adrian stood in my doorway, devastatingly perfect in a black tux. His eyes traveled down my body, slow, assessing and something heated in their gray depths before his mask slammed back into place.

"Thank you," I managed.

He stepped closer, pulling something from his pocket. A velvet box.

"For tonight." He opened it. A bracelet. Platinum and diamonds that probably cost more than my life.

"That's too much."

"It's necessary." He took my wrist, his fingers warm against my skin. "Everyone will be watching. Judging. Deciding if you're worthy of being a Knight."

His touch lingered as he fastened the bracelet. Our faces were inches apart. I could smell his cologne, cedar and something darker. Could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.

"And am I?" I whispered. "Worthy?"

His eyes met mine. Something flickered there. Something raw.

"You're more than they deserve."

Then he stepped back, and the moment shattered.

"Car's waiting."

The gala was everything I expected and worse.

Crystal ballroom. Orchestra. Five hundred people in designer clothes sipping champagne and making small talk that cost more than honesty.

They stared the moment we entered.

"Adrian Knight and his mystery wife," someone whispered.

"Did you see her dress? How desperate."

"I heard she was a waitress. Can you imagine?"

Adrian's hand found the small of my back. Firm. Possessive. He leaned down, lips brushing my ear.

"Ignore them. They're jackals."

But his hand stayed there, warm through the silk, as we moved through the crowd.

Men wanted to talk business. Women wanted to dissect me with their eyes. Adrian navigated it all with cold precision, his touch never leaving me. An arm around my waist during introductions.

His hand found mine while he discussed acquisitions. Fingers playing with a strand of hair that had escaped my updo while some CEO droned on about market shares.

It was all for show. I knew that.

So why did my skin burn everywhere he touched?

"Mrs. Knight." Diane appeared like a viper in Dior. "How lovely to see you again."

"Diane." Adrian's voice held warning.

"I was just telling Rebecca about your charming background. A waitress! How wonderfully... novel."

The women around us tittered.

Heat flooded my face.

Adrian's arm tightened around my waist. "Lena has more class in her little finger than you've managed in sixty years, Diane."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Diane's smile turned venomous. "How sweet. Defending your little investment."

"We're done here." Adrian steered me away, his touch gentler now. "Come on."

He led me to a balcony overlooking the city. Cool air hit my flushed skin.

"You didn't have to do that," I said.

"Yes, I did."

"Why? You said we shouldn't make scenes."

He turned to face me, something dangerous in his expression. "No one talks to my wife that way."

"I'm not really your wife."

"They don't know that."

"Don't they?" I stepped closer, anger and champagne making me bold. "Everyone in there knows this is fake. They're probably taking bets on how long it lasts."

"Lena..."

"You're ashamed of me. Just admit it."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? You can barely look at me unless cameras are watching. You touch me for show and disappear the second we're alone. I'm your dirty secret in a pretty dress."

His jaw clenched. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then tell me! Explain why you married someone you can't stand to be near!"

"Because I had no choice!" The words exploded out of him. "Because I needed a wife and you needed money and it was supposed to be simple. Clean. A transaction. But you..."

"But I what?"

He stepped closer, crowding me against the railing. His eyes were storm clouds.

"You make it complicated," he said, voice rough. "You look at me like I'm human instead of a machine. You call me heartless and mean it. You..." He stopped, jaw working. "You make me feel things I can't afford to feel."

My breath caught.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. When had the sky darkened?

"Adrian..."

"We should go back inside." He stepped away, buttoning his jacket. Back to control and to cold.

But I'd seen it. The crack. The truth.

"No." I grabbed his arm. "You don't get to say that and walk away."

"Lena, don't..."

"I make you feel things? What things? Because from where I'm standing, you feel nothing. You're exactly what everyone says ice cold and..."

He kissed me.

No.

He claimed to me.

His mouth crashed against mine, hot and desperate and nothing like a transaction. His hands cupped my face, thumbs stroking my jaw as he kissed me like he was drowning and I was air.

I melted into him. Couldn't help it. My hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer, needing more. His tongue swept against mine and I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, pressing me back against the railing.

The kiss was everything. Angry and sweet and terrifying.

Then he pulled away, both of us breathing hard.

"That," he said roughly, "is what you make me feel."

Rain started falling. Soft at first, then harder.

We stood there getting soaked, staring at each other, the world forgotten.

"Adrian, I..."

"This can't happen." He stepped back, rain plastering his hair to his forehead. "The contract..."

"Fuck the contract."

His eyes widened.

"You felt that too," I said. "Don't pretend you didn't."

"It doesn't matter what I felt."

"It's the only thing that matters."

Thunder crashed overhead.

He looked at me like I was breaking him. "We should go."

Inside, the gala continued. But we were drenched, mascara probably running down my face, his perfect hair ruined.

We got in the car without a word.

The drive home was silent except for rain against the windows.

Back at the penthouse, I went straight to my room. Changed into dry clothes. Sat on my bed, shaking.

He'd kissed me.

Adrian Knight, the Ice King, had kissed me like he meant it.

A knock at my door made me jump.

"Come in."

Adrian stood in the doorway, changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looked younger like this. Vulnerable.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said.

"Which part? Kissing me or pretending you didn't want to?"

He flinched. "Both. Neither. I don't know anymore."

"Adrian..."

"I'm sorry." He turned to leave. "For everything. For making you feel like you weren't enough. You are. You're..." He stopped. "Goodnight, Lena."

The door closed.

I lay back on my bed, touching my lips where his had been.

This was supposed to be simple.

It wasn't simple anymore.