"You can't flinch."
Aiden's voice was sharp as the stylist clipped diamond studs into my ears.
"If they see hesitation," he said, watching me in the mirror, "they'll eat you alive."
"I'm not hesitating," I muttered.
"Good," he replied. "Because once we step out of that car, there's no turning back."
The gala wasn't just any event.It was the Blackwood Foundation's Annual Winter Benefit—a red carpet, cameras flashing, socialite-drenched kind of night.
And it would be my first appearance as Aiden Blackwood's wife.
Paparazzi were already outside, waiting for a single shot to sell to gossip sites and morning news shows.
Rumors were boiling.We were the couple of the moment.And half the world still thought our marriage was a stunt.
So tonight, I had to prove them wrong.
Or at least pretend convincingly enough.
"You sure this is necessary?" I asked, glancing down at the plunging black satin gown he'd had delivered this morning.
He didn't even look. "You want revenge? Let them see you shine."
Easy for him to say.He was born for this world.But I?
I was just a woman who'd been cheated on in front of half our city.
Now I had to act like I belonged in the arms of a billionaire.
And somehow not fall for the fantasy.
—
The red carpet was chaos.
Flashes. Voices. Shouts from reporters.
"Mrs. Blackwood! Over here!""Did you really marry for love?""Is it true you were with Travis first?"
Aiden's arm wrapped around my waist.
Firm. Possessive. Controlled.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Smile like you own the world."
So I did.
I looked right into the cameras and smiled like my heart wasn't pounding in my ears.
We posed. Walked. Waved.
To the world, we were flawless.
To me, it felt like a dream I wasn't sure I could keep faking.
Inside the gala, everything was glitter and gold.Chandeliers. Strings of musicians. People in designer gowns sipping thousand-dollar champagne.
I took a flute just to have something to hold.
"You're doing well," Aiden said lowly as we made our rounds. "But don't talk too much."
I glanced at him. "Why not?"
"You're unpredictable when you're emotional."
"Gee, thanks."
He arched a brow. "It's a compliment."
"Then maybe say it like one."
His lip twitched.
Was that... amusement?
Before I could ask, someone called out, "Aiden!"
A woman in a crimson gown appeared, impossibly tall, with sharp cheekbones and ice-blonde hair.
Her eyes flicked to me. Assessed. Judged. Dismissed.
"Cassandra," Aiden said coolly.
"Scarlett," I said before he could continue. "His wife."
Her perfectly manicured brow lifted. "Oh. You're the one who made the news."
"Yes," I said sweetly. "I tend to do that when people betray me."
Her smile was like poison. "Well, let's hope you last longer than the last one."
Aiden's hand on my waist tightened.
Enough to stop me from throwing champagne in her face.
Barely.
—
An hour in, I was exhausted.
Smiling. Nodding. Playing the perfect Blackwood wife.
Until the host of the event approached.
He was charismatic, silver-haired, with a microphone and a voice made for national television.
"We'd love a few words from the newlyweds," he said, beckoning us to the center of the room.
Aiden's jaw tightened.
I panicked.
But before either of us could decline, we were ushered forward, the spotlight clicking on above us.
Cameras rolled.
"Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood," the host beamed, "how does it feel to be married?"
Aiden looked at me.
And for once, I saw hesitation in his eyes.
So I answered first.
"It feels… like a storm," I said.
The room chuckled nervously.
"But not the kind you run from. The kind you stand in. Because even when it's dark and loud and unexpected, you know something's changing. And sometimes, change is the only way forward."
Silence.
Then applause.
Louder than I expected.
Aiden didn't speak.
But when the lights dimmed again and we stepped down from the stage, his hand found mine.
Not just for show.
Real.
Solid.
Warm.
—
We left the gala early.
His driver pulled up silently, and we slid into the car without a word.
The ride was quiet.
Until he spoke.
"You handled that better than I would've."
I blinked. "Is that… praise?"
"I don't hand those out easily."
I smirked. "I figured."
He looked at me then.
Really looked.
"You surprised me," he said.
"Good."
"Don't get cocky."
"Too late."
For a moment, it felt… easy.
Light.
Like we weren't strangers bound by a paper-thin marriage and a mutual need for revenge.
Like we could maybe be more.
But then my phone buzzed.
A photo.
Me on stage.
Aiden looking at me like the world had narrowed to one person.
Jasmine:He's faking it. He doesn't look at you like that when the cameras are off.
I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat.
Because no matter how good it felt… it was fake.
Wasn't it?
—
Back at the penthouse, I kicked off my heels and collapsed onto the nearest couch.
Aiden loosened his tie and poured two drinks.
"Whiskey?" he asked.
I raised a brow. "You sure we're at the 'sharing nightcaps' stage of this fake marriage?"
He handed me the glass anyway. "Call it a business debrief."
I sipped.
Burned.
And oddly, wanted more.
"You really hate your brother that much?" I asked.
He didn't answer for a long time.
Then: "I don't waste energy on hate."
"That's not a no."
He stared into his drink. "He's reckless. Selfish. And he's never faced a consequence in his life."
"Until me."
Aiden looked up.
And for a split second, his eyes softened.
"You're the first thing that ever touched his ego."
I tilted my head. "And you?"
"What about me?"
"Why did you say yes?"
He leaned back, glass in hand, eyes unreadable.
"Because you're not afraid to walk into fire," he said. "And sometimes, I need someone who doesn't burn easy."
My heart stuttered.
This wasn't part of the script.
This wasn't cold CEO banter or fake husband routine.
This was… real.
Vulnerable.
I stood.
"I'm going to bed," I said, suddenly breathless.
He didn't stop me.
But as I left the room, his voice followed.
"Scarlett."
I turned.
"Next time they doubt you," he said, "remind them what happens when they do."
—
I closed my bedroom door behind me and exhaled.
Tonight, I had survived the public.
Faced the past.
Played the part.
And maybe — just maybe — started to see the man behind the mask.
Aiden Blackwood was dangerous.
But not in the way I thought.
Not because he was cold.
But because he wasn't always.
And if I wasn't careful…
I'd stop pretending.
And start falling.