Chapter 7
The lie went live at 8:03 a.m.
That was the exact time Blackwood Empire's official account posted the photo—Adrian's hand at my waist, my head tilted toward him, the city glowing behind us like we owned it.
Blackwood Empire stands stronger together.
That was the caption.
I stared at my phone, pulse thudding, as notifications exploded across the screen.
Stronger together.
I almost laughed.
By the time I reached the office, the lie had teeth.
People weren't just curious anymore—they were convinced. Smiles followed me down the hall. Whispers trailed behind me like perfume. A few women looked at me with open hostility. Others with fascination.
Men straightened when I passed.
Power had transferred.
Not to me—but onto me.
Mara met me at my desk, eyes wide. "You're officially untouchable," she murmured. "Also, I hate you a little."
I managed a weak smile. "That makes two of us."
The intercom buzzed immediately.
"Ms Monroe."
My stomach clenched. "Yes?"
"Inside."
Of course.
Adrian's office felt different again. Warmer somehow. The blinds were open, sunlight spilling in, lighting him up in a way that felt too intimate for a workplace.
He looked… calm.
That scared me.
"You're late," he said mildly.
I glanced at the clock. "I'm three minutes early."
His lips twitched. "I know."
I crossed my arms. "Then why say it?"
"Because I wanted to see your reaction."
I exhaled sharply. "This is exactly what I mean. You're testing boundaries."
"Yes," he said. "Because boundaries shift."
"Not mine," I shot back.
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. "Fair."
That word—fair—felt like a concession.
"We have a charity gala tonight," he said. "You'll attend."
"That wasn't—"
"It's mandatory," he continued. "Press. Investors. My mother."
That last part made my chest tighten. "Your mother?"
"She's… perceptive."
"That's not comforting."
"No," he agreed. "It isn't."
I paced once, then stopped. "What's expected of me?"
"Nothing you can't handle," he replied. "Smile. Stay close. Touch my arm when you laugh."
My throat went dry. "And if I don't laugh?"
"Then I'll make you," he said softly.
I shot him a glare. "That wasn't funny."
"I didn't mean it to be."
The silence stretched.
"This is still fake," I said, more to myself than him.
"Yes," he replied.
"But people believe it."
"Yes."
"And you don't correct them."
"No."
I looked at him. Really looked.
"Why?" I asked quietly.
He didn't answer right away.
"Because belief", he said finally, "is more powerful than truth."
That should've terrified me.
Instead, it unsettled me in a quieter, deeper way.
The gala was held at a museum overlooking the river. Glass walls. Marble floors. Money humming beneath every conversation.
Adrian arrived first, stepping out of the car with practised ease. Then he turned and offered his hand.
I hesitated.
Cameras flashed instantly.
"Relax," he murmured. "They're already convinced."
I took his hand.
The contact sent a spark up my arm I wasn't prepared for.
He pulled me close, not hurried, not rough. Just… certain.
Inside, the attention was relentless.
"Elara," he said softly near my ear. "Breathe."
I didn't realise I'd stopped.
His mother found us within minutes.
She was elegant in a quiet, terrifying way. Silver hair. Sharp eyes that missed nothing.
"So," she said, looking me over slowly. "You're the one."
I swallowed. "Mrs Blackwood."
"Catherine," she corrected. "And you are?"
"Elara."
Her gaze flicked to Adrian. "You didn't tell me she was this young."
His jaw tightened. "Age isn't relevant."
"Experience is", she countered, then smiled at me. "But you seem… grounded."
I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a warning.
"You make my son look human," she continued. "That's no small feat."
Adrian shifted beside me. "Mother—"
"I approve," Catherine said calmly.
I blinked. "You do?"
"For now."
She walked away.
I turned to Adrian, stunned. "She approves?"
He exhaled slowly. "Don't read into it."
"Too late."
We moved through the room together, Adrian's hand a constant presence at my back. He introduced me as his partner without hesitation. The word felt heavier every time.
At one point, an investor cornered me while Adrian spoke to someone else.
"So," the man said, smiling too widely. "How does a girl like you catch Adrian Blackwood's attention?"
I stiffened.
Before I could answer, Adrian was there, arm slipping around my waist.
"She doesn't catch it," he said smoothly. "She keeps it."
The man laughed awkwardly and excused himself.
I looked up at Adrian. "You didn't have to say that."
"Yes," he said quietly. "I did."
His gaze held mine a second too long.
Something shifted.
Later, as the night wore on and the wine flowed freely, the space between us disappeared completely. We moved like a unit. A practised lie.
And the more convincing it became, the more dangerous it felt.
The almost-kiss happened in the hallway.
We'd slipped away from the crowd, the noise muffled behind closed doors. The air felt thicker here. Warmer.
"You're doing well," Adrian said softly.
"Don't," I replied.
"Don't what?"
"Don't sound proud," I said. "This isn't something to win."
He stepped closer. "Everything is something to win."
"I'm not," I whispered.
His gaze dropped to my lips.
"I know," he said. "That's the problem."
My breath hitched.
This was wrong. Every rule we'd set was screaming in my head.
"Adrian," I said, warning threaded through his name.
He leaned in anyway.
Slow. Careful. Giving me time to stop him.
I didn't.
Our noses brushed. His breath mingled with mine. I could feel the tension in him, coiled and restrained.
For one suspended second, the world narrowed to that space between us.
Then a voice shattered it.
"There you are!"
We jumped apart.
Vivian stood at the end of the hallway, smile sharp, eyes glittering.
"I thought I lost you," she said to Adrian, gaze flicking between us. "You always did like corners."
His jaw tightened. "This isn't the time."
"Oh," she laughed lightly. "Isn't it?"
She looked at me. "Careful, Elara. You're standing very close to something that bites."
Adrian stepped forward. "Leave."
She raised a brow. "Already? And here I thought the show was just getting good."
She walked away, laughter echoing.
The moment was gone.
I exhaled shakily. "That was a mistake."
"Yes," Adrian said hoarsely.
"We can't let that happen again."
"No," he agreed.
But his eyes said he didn't believe it.
The ride home was silent.
When the car stopped outside my apartment, neither of us moved.
"This doesn't change anything," I said, staring straight ahead.
"It changes everything," he replied.
I turned to him. "Don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Make it real."
His gaze softened in a way that scared me more than his coldness ever had.
"I don't know how to pretend halfway," he admitted quietly.
"That's not my fault."
"No," he said. "It's mine."
I reached for the door.
"Elara."
I paused.
"If this goes wrong," he said, "it won't be because of the lie."
I looked back at him. "Then what?"
"Because we believed it."
I got out of the car without answering.
Inside my apartment, I leaned against the door, heart racing, body still humming from how close we'd come.
Across the city, Adrian Blackwood stood alone in his penthouse, staring at his reflection in the glass.
The first lie had been told.
And it had already begun to feel too much like the truth.