Chapter 7 Tensions and Close calls

Elara woke to the soft vibration of her phone on the nightstand. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she reached for it and sat up slowly.

NEW ALERT: Asher Grayson Spotted with Mystery Woman-Wife Nowhere in Sight?

Her pulse stilled. The headline was accompanied by a grainy photo of Asher stepping into a black car-Luciana was right behind him, smiling as if she belonged there.

Elara's stomach dropped.

The phone buzzed again.

Joan: Call me when you're ready. It's all ready over the news.

An hour later, Elara stood in the sleek Grayson Enterprises boardroom, arms crossed, her expression carved from stone.

Asher looked tired, dressed in a fitted navy suit, but his eyes were sharp.

"This is bad," she said plainly, sliding her phone toward him.

He glanced at the screen and let out a quiet sigh. "Luciana called the press herself. She wants people to think we're separated."

"Congratulations. Your ex-girlfriend just turned your fake marriage into a PR mess."

His eyes flicked up to hers. "This was never about her."

"She's in the picture. I'm not. That says something."

A pause. "Why does it bother you?"

Elara blinked. "Because I didn't sign up to be publicly humiliated, Asher."

He stood, walking to the window with a quiet intensity. "We'll do damage control. Public appearance. Photos. An interview, if necessary."

Her voice was sharper than intended. "You mean pretend even harder?"

He turned around slowly. "This marriage may have started as a contract, but we're not pretending anymore. You've changed things, Elara. Whether you realize it or not."

Later that day, Elara walked into her office at the consulting firm to find colleagues whispering, phones in hand.

She sighed. Of course the story had made it there too.

"Is it true?" one of them asked, too casually.

Elara raised an eyebrow. "Is what true?"

"That your husband was caught cheating... and you're staying quiet because it's a publicity stunt?"

The room went still.

Elara set her bag down and met their eyes. "It's true he's been targeted. But not by scandal-by people who don't understand the difference between a manipulated photo and the truth. I trust my husband."

The words surprised even her.

But she said them clearly, proudly.

Afterward, she stepped out into the hallway and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. She didn't know if she meant it... but she knew it was what needed to be said.

That night, Asher was already in the penthouse when she returned. He stood in the living room holding a folder-inside, the PR team's strategy: photoshoot, exclusive interview, and a staged couple's charity event.

"We'll go to the Bennett Foundation Gala next Friday," he said. "You'll be in every camera's frame beside me."

"And what will we be pretending then?" she asked.

"That we're not pretending at all."

He stepped closer. "You defended me today. I know what it cost you."

She shrugged. "I didn't do it for you."

"Didn't you?"

His voice was lower now, his presence a little closer, warmer.

For a moment, the air changed. He reached up slowly, brushing a curl from her cheek. Her breath caught-but she didn't move.

Then the spell broke.

She stepped back. "We should stick to the plan."

His expression shifted back to cool. "Of course."

But something flickered in his eyes before he turned away.

The Bennett Gala was lavish, as expected-walls dripping with gold, gowns that sparkled like stars, and whispers that danced between champagne flutes.

Elara wore a fitted midnight blue gown with a plunging back and delicate silver embroidery. She looked radiant, composed. And beside her, Asher looked devastatingly perfect.

Camera flashes met them like lightning as they stepped onto the carpet.

"Elara! Asher! Is everything okay in your marriage?"

"Elara, are the rumors true?"

"Asher, is Luciana Grayson Enterprises' next PR face?"

Asher wrapped an arm around Elara's waist and leaned close.

"She's the only woman who belongs at my side," he said into the mic.

Gasps followed. The tabloids ate it up.

Later, when they stood alone on a terrace overlooking the city, Elara turned to him.

"That line was good. Sincere."

He didn't smile. "It was."

Silence lingered.

"You ever miss it?" she asked.

"Miss what?"

"Being alone. Not having to answer to anyone."

His voice was rougher than she expected. "I've been alone long enough. I don't miss it."

Their eyes locked again.

This time, neither looked away.

Back home, neither of them spoke much. They each moved quietly through their evening routines until they both reached the kitchen for water-at the same time.

He watched her pour herself a glass.

"Elara," he said softly.

She turned to face him.

He stepped closer. Not rushed. Not aggressive. Just... intentional.

"I haven't said thank you. For today. For tonight. For defending me when you had every reason not to."

She looked up at him, unsure.... what scared her more-his words or the fact that she wanted to believe them.

"Don't make a habit of needing to be defended," she said.

"I won't."

Their eyes locked. His hand moved, hesitating-then brushing her arm gently.

It wasn't a kiss.

But it was close enough to make her heart race.

"I'm not Luciana," she whispered.

"I know," he murmured. "That's why you terrify me."