By the time Serena stepped out of the bedroom, dressed for the gala, Elias was already waiting in the living room.
For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
His black tuxedo was cut to perfection, his dark hair swept back, and the faintest trace of cologne drifted toward her. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a luxury magazine—untouchable, flawless.
His gaze traveled over her slowly, deliberately. The silver gown hugged her figure and shimmered under the apartment's soft lighting. A thin diamond chain rested at her collarbone, catching the glow each time she moved.
"You clean up well," he said, voice low.
"I'll try to remember that's a compliment," she replied, smoothing the skirt.
The ride to the gala was quiet at first. Elias reviewed names and faces on his phone while Serena stared out at the city. Then, without looking up, he said, "We'll arrive together, stay close, and leave together. When I take your hand, don't pull away. When I lean in, smile like I've just whispered something you wanted to hear."
Serena's lips curved faintly. "You've done this before."
"I've played many roles," he said, glancing at her briefly. "This is just another one."
The Moreau Foundation Gala was held in the grand ballroom of the Ashford Hotel. Crystal chandeliers bathed the space in warm gold light, and the air hummed with polite laughter, clinking glasses, and the low murmur of business disguised as small talk.
The moment they stepped inside, all eyes turned to them. Elias's hand found hers, firm and warm, and she felt the subtle squeeze that told her to hold on.
"Mr. Moreau! And Mrs. Moreau," a woman in an emerald gown exclaimed, her smile sharp as glass. "We've all been dying to meet your new wife."
Serena returned the smile with practiced ease. "It's lovely to meet you."
The introductions flowed like champagne. Elias's touch was constant—his palm resting lightly at the small of her back, his thumb brushing over her fingers as he guided her through the crowd. It was all an act, but the heat from his skin felt too real to ignore.
During a pause in conversation, he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "You're doing well."
Her pulse jumped. "You make it easy to pretend," she murmured back.
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his eyes, but before she could place it, they were swept into another conversation.
Hours later, after countless handshakes and smiles, they slipped out to the balcony. The city spread below them, lights glittering against the night. Serena leaned on the railing, grateful for the cool breeze.
"You handled yourself perfectly," Elias said, standing beside her.
"Guess I'm a better actress than I thought," she replied, half teasing.
He looked at her then, really looked, as if weighing something. "Careful, Serena. Sometimes acting becomes reality without you noticing."
Her breath caught, but before she could respond, he turned back toward the ballroom. "Come on. We should make one last appearance before we leave."
She followed him inside, but the echo of his words stayed with her long after.