Chapter 2 The Wife In The Mirror

SOFIA'S POV

"You're late," Josh said without looking up from his wine glass.

"I'm five minutes late," I replied, stepping out of my heels and letting them drop to the marble floor. "

He glanced up, eyes cool. "Punctuality says a lot about a person."

"So does obsession with it," I muttered, brushing past him to the dining room.

The dining room was a glossy display of wealth, polished table, crystal glasses, three-course meal waiting like we were the poster couple for perfect domesticity. Except we weren't. I pulled my chair out and sat without waiting for him to offer.

"You're quiet." I said, slicing into the salmon. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I talk when there's something worth saying." He cut into his steak with surgical precision.

I looked at him, studying the sharp lines of his face. He didn't blink. I held his stare for a second longer than polite, then dropped my eyes back to my plate.

"The red dress I sent for the gala," he began, still not looking at me. "Wear it."

"Any reason, or are you just obsessed with controlling everything I wear too?" I stabbed a roasted potato.

He gave a faint smile. "It would suit you. And it sends the right message."

"To who?" I asked confused

"Everyone." He took a sip of his wine, watching me over the rim of his glass.

I didn't respond. I couldn't afford to, not yet. He never mentioned the photograph again, and I never asked why he had been tracking me before our arrangement. Instead, we performed our roles with precision, loving couples in public, cold strangers in private.

After dinner, I retreated to my room. The mansion was colder than I imagined, both in temperature and atmosphere. The walls were adorned with art, but they felt impersonal, like decorations in a museum.

In my room, I dropped my bag on the chaise and stood before the full-length mirror. I stared at the woman I was pretending to be. Elegant, Composed, Beautiful and a lie wrapped in designer clothes and perfect makeup.

I peeled the earrings off one by one and placed them carefully in the jewelry tray. My hands trembled. The act was starting to eat into me. Pretending to be the perfect wife in public, smiling, touching his arm, laughing on cue, was beginning to feel like wearing someone else's skin.

"You're not real," I whispered to the woman in the mirror. "None of this is."

But still... Josh wasn't who I expected either. I thought he'd be more cruel, more reckless. But he was too calm, too precise, and sometimes. When he didn't know I was looking, there was something in his eyes that looked almost like loneliness. And when he was deep in thought, focused on work or reading, he was... well, handsome wasn't the right word. Magnetic, perhaps.

I shook the thought off and turned away. I couldn't afford doubt, not when I was this close.

The next morning, we left for the gala in silence. The driver took us in the black Rolls-Royce, and Josh sat beside me, unreadable behind his sunglasses. I crossed my legs and angled my body slightly away, as if physical distance could protect me from emotional proximity.

"You remember the plan?" he asked as we pulled up to the venue.

"Smile, wave, laugh at your jokes." I replied without looking at him, watching the valets rush to open doors for arriving guests.

"You forgot: stay by my side." He said calmly leaving no room for negotiation.

"I'll try not to get lost." I said dryly.

He offered his arm as the door opened. I hesitated, then took it. Flashes exploded around us like fireworks. I smiled, leaned in, pretended.

Inside, champagne flutes were already being passed around, and guests were mingling like they belonged in some 1920s fantasy. Everyone looked expensive, including me. Josh's fingers grazed the small of my back as we walked in tandem, an intimate touch meant for show.

"She's even more stunning in person," a woman said, approaching us. "You're a lucky man, Josh." She smiled,

Josh glanced at me. "She's... surprising."

Was that a compliment or a warning?

The night blurred into conversations and posed smiles. I knew how to play this game. For years I watched from the outside my father trying to earn the approval of men like Josh Reynolds. Now I was here, right inside the lion's den learning its rhythms and weaknesses.

I caught Josh watching me once across the ballroom. Just watching. I turned away before I could ask myself why he wasn't smiling, why he looked almost troubled.

Later that night, while he was talking to a senator about clean energy or tax loopholes, I slipped out to the balcony and exhaled.

Then my phone buzzed in my clutch. A message from Victor, the only one who knew my true intentions "Don't forget why you're there."

I read the message three times, then deleted it. I didn't need the reminder. But I also couldn't deny the tightening in my chest. The one that came from the way Josh had looked at me just an hour ago like maybe I wasn't just another pawn.

"Stupid." I turned to go back inside, only to find Josh standing in the doorway.

"Enjoying the night?" he asked, voice unreadable.

"Just needed air," I replied smoothly. "People get exhausting."

He studied me, his gaze traveling from my face down to the red dress and back again. "You looked like you were enjoying it."

"I'm good at pretending." The truth slipped out before I could stop it.

"Good," he said, moving closer. "You'll need that."

There was a pause. Too long to be casual.

"Why did you choose to marry me?" I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes flickered. "We both needed something."

"That's not an answer." I said agitatedly.

He stepped closer, until he was just within reach.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Sofia."

He leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek. "The difference is, I invented the game." He walked away leaving me confused and oddly breathless.

I stayed on the balcony, watching the city lights blink in the distance. My phone buzzed again. Another message.

But it wasn't from Victor.

Unknown number.

"You're not the only one watching."

My stomach twisted. Was someone else following Josh? Or following me?

I left the balcony immediately and stepped back into the crowd. Everyone seemed absorbed in their conversations, their drinks, their social climbing. But someone out there knew more than they should.