Chapter 3 In the public eye

The breakfast table in the penthouse was large enough to seat ten, but Asher and Elara sat at opposite ends-silent, awkward, and trying not to look too obviously uncomfortable.

Elara was spooning yogurt into a bowl when her phone buzzed with an email notification. She glanced at the subject line and grimaced.

From: PR Department

Subject: Event Appearance Brief - Gala Dinner Tonight

She dropped her spoon with a soft clink. "So... we're going out again."

Asher didn't look up from his tablet. "Yes. The 'Married Billionaire Debut' continues."

She sighed. "And let me guess-no way to say no?"

"Nope. This one's a charity fundraiser sponsored by LUXTEQ. The press will be there. Investors. Politicians. If we cancel, it'll raise more eyebrows than if we show up looking miserable."

"Which we might."

Asher finally looked up, meeting her eyes with a small smirk. "Then let's look fabulous while doing it."

At LUXTEQ Headquarters

Later that day, Elara entered Asher's company building for the first time-not as a consultant, not as a guest, but as "Mrs. Lemaire." The security guard greeted her with an overly respectful "Madam," and staff members stiffened in the halls as she passed.

The weight of the title clung to her shoulders like a heavy shawl.

"Welcome to the lion's den," whispered Talia, Asher's assistant, when she guided Elara into a sleek waiting room. "He's in a board meeting but asked me to brief you."

Elara glanced around. "Does he always work in this much glass?"

Talia laughed. "He likes being transparent while being intimidating. Very on-brand."

Elara chuckled despite herself. "Sounds accurate."

Talia handed her a digital tablet. "This has tonight's guest list, seating chart, conversation points, and wardrobe guidelines. Don't worry, a stylist will come at four. Your dress is being flown in from Milan."

"Milan?" Elara blinked.

"You're a Lemaire now," Talia said with a wink. "Welcome to the circus."

The Charity Gala - That Evening

By 7 PM, Elara stood on the red carpet of the Grand Easton Hotel, arm linked with Asher's. Photographers shouted, bulbs flashed like lightning, and the city's elite watched them with calculating eyes.

Elara's gown was a floor-length ivory column dress with crystal-beaded sleeves. Her hair was swept into a sleek twist, her lips a deep wine red.

Asher, in a sharp black tuxedo, leaned in as they posed. "Ready to pretend we're madly in love?"

She smiled without turning. "You mean we're not?"

He chuckled lowly. "Remind me not to underestimate you again."

"Smart man."

Inside, the ballroom shimmered with chandeliers, champagne towers, and silk-draped tables. Names from politics, finance, and entertainment mingled like characters from a play. But every conversation halted as Asher and Elara entered.

"They're watching us," she whispered.

"They always will," he replied.

The Interview Trap

They hadn't been seated five minutes before a glossy brunette with a press badge approached.

"Elara! Asher! A moment for Society Luxe?"

Elara tensed. She wasn't used to this world of polished lies and fake laughter.

Asher squeezed her hand slightly-just for show, she thought, until she realized it calmed her too.

"Of course," he said smoothly.

The reporter smiled, recorder ready. "How did you two meet?"

Elara blinked, unsure if they were following the cover story they'd rehearsed.

But Asher didn't miss a beat. "At a private fundraiser in Paris. She stole my wine glass."

The reporter laughed. "That's charming!"

Elara tilted her head. "I didn't steal it. I borrowed it because you wouldn't stop talking, and I needed a drink."

The woman giggled. "Well, it clearly worked out. And how is married life treating you both?"

"Exciting," Elara said quickly. "Lots of new experiences."

"Definitely a learning curve," Asher added. "But I'm lucky. I married the most brilliant woman I know."

Elara tried not to flinch. It was part of the script, but the sincerity in his voice was... startling.

Trouble in the Crowd

Halfway through dinner, Elara excused herself to freshen up. As she stepped out of the restroom, she ran into a familiar figure in a crimson gown.

Camilla.

"Asher's little bride," Camilla purred. "Looking very... bridal."

Elara forced a polite smile. "Camilla. Nice to see you."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," Camilla said, her tone knife-sharp. "How long is this performance meant to last?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The marriage. It's clearly a show. Don't take it personally-Asher does love a challenge."

Elara's jaw tightened. "You seem very invested in his life. Ex-girlfriend?"

Camilla smiled sweetly. "More like... missed opportunity."

"Maybe you should have acted sooner."

Camilla's eyes darkened. "You're smart. But this world eats women like you alive."

"Then I'll grow fangs," Elara replied before brushing past her.

The Ride Home

Back in the car, Elara was quiet, staring out the window. Asher noticed.

"You handled the press well," he said.

She nodded. "And Camilla?"

He blinked. "You ran into her."

"She has quite the opinion of me."

"Ignore her," he said. "She thrives on drama."

"She seems convinced you're still in love with her."

He scoffed. "Camilla's in love with herself."

Elara turned to him. "Are there more exes I should worry about?"

Asher gave a half-smile. "Do you want the short list or the full series?"

She frowned. "I'm serious."

"So am I. But if it helps, no one's ever lived here with me. You're the only one who has a closet."

The admission surprised her.

"I don't date for emotional fulfillment," he added. "Never did."

"What do you date for?"

"Control. Escape. Sometimes... noise."

Elara looked at him differently now. "And what am I?"

He hesitated, voice softer. "Unexpected."

Midnight Reflections

Later that night, Elara stood on the penthouse terrace, arms folded against the chill. Asher joined her, two mugs in hand.

"Chamomile," he said, offering her one.

She took it with a quiet, "Thanks."

The city glowed below them, alive and distant. For a moment, they said nothing.

"I've never done this before," she admitted.

"What?"

"Lied. Smiled when I wanted to scream. Wore a mask for strangers."

"It's not easy," he said.

"But you do it so well."

"I've had practice."

She sipped her tea. "You know, if this is going to work-this charade-we need more than scripts."

He studied her. "Like what?"

"Trust. Respect. Maybe... honesty."

Asher nodded slowly. "I can give you that. But don't expect miracles."

"Neither of us believes in those anyway."

He smirked. "Fair enough."

They stood in silence, not as enemies or actors, but as two people caught in the same storm.

Not lovers.

Not quite friends.

But no longer strangers.