Chapter 5 Lancetti gala

The following week was a blur of flashing lights, velvet ropes, and perfectly staged smiles.

Everywhere they went, they were the couple.

Red carpet interviews. Fashion week front rows. Brand events where Maddox would slip his arm around Soren's waist like he owned him-and Soren would glare but never pull away.

Not once.

Because Maddox always did it with that same calm control, that smug composure that left Soren reeling in the aftermath. Especially when cameras weren't even present.

Like now.

Backstage at a luxury designer's after party, music pulsing faintly through the walls, Maddox had just cornered Soren beside the private dressing suite.

"You're flushed," Maddox murmured, his voice low, amused. His fingers tugged slightly at Soren's collar, fixing it. Or maybe just touching him for no reason.

Soren batted his hand away. "We're in public."

"We're in private," Maddox corrected, stepping closer. "Unless you want me to show the press how red I can make you turn."

Soren's mouth opened. No sound came out.

Maddox smiled slowly. "You freeze up every time I touch you. That's good for the story."

"Right," Soren bit out, fists clenching. "For the story."

"Of course," Maddox said smoothly. "I don't mix you with pleasure."

---

Later that night, at the hotel suite, Maddox casually dropped his jacket onto the armchair. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned.

Soren tried not to stare.

"Just so you know," Maddox said lazily, "the press thinks we're staying in the same room."

Soren raised an eyebrow. "And whose fault is that?"

"You didn't deny it."

"You never gave me the chance."

Maddox looked at him. "Do you want me to sleep in the guest room?"

The room pulsed with tension.

Soren crossed his arms. "You're not touching me."

Maddox didn't move closer. He didn't need to. His words came cool and low:

"I don't have to. You already feel it."

Soren's stomach dropped., Before he could respond, Maddox's phone lit up on the side table.

Another message from Alina.

Soren saw the name flash briefly-and his entire expression changed."I thought you blocked her."

"I wanted to see how far she'd go," Maddox said simply. "She's desperate enough to try anything now."

Soren stiffened. "You want her attention?"

Maddox's gaze sharpened. "I want her to see what she can't have."

He walked over, picked up his phone, and started typing. Slowly.

Soren's voice came low. "What are you posting?"

Maddox didn't answer right away. Just showed the screen before hitting send.

– "Private moments ; public drama, thankful for what's real."

Photo attached: a candid pic Maddox had secretly taken of Soren, laughing in the back of the car, head thrown back.

Soren's eyes widened. "You..?, you took that without telling me!"

"It's my lock screen."

Soren's voice cracked. "Maddox-"

"It's just PR," Maddox said coolly. But the look in his eyes said everything else.

Soren gave an exaggerated groan and flopped backward on the bed, arms flailing like he was being sacrificed. "I don't accept this deal, return to sender..."

Maddox didn't blink. "Too late. It's already trending."

"Ughhhh!" Soren rolled onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow. "Why is being fake-dating you the most stressful thing I've ever done?"

"Because you're high-strung," Maddox said dryly, loosening another button. "And you like me more than you want to admit."

Soren turned his head just enough to glare. "Lies."

Maddox ignored him. "We're attending the Lancetti Gala tomorrow night."

Soren froze.

He slowly pushed himself up on his elbows. "Lancetti? As in, the fashion house?"

Maddox nodded like it was no big deal. "Front row, paparazzi, You'll wear white, I've already had something tailored."

Soren narrowed his eyes. "You planned this before we even kissed on the carpet, didn't you?"

Maddox's lips twitched. "I prepare for success."

"Control freak."

"Drama queen."

Soren huffed and grabbed a pillow, smacking it against his face. "I swear to God, if one more influencer whispers behind my back tomorrow, I'll...."

"They won't whisper," Maddox interrupted, walking toward the bathroom. "They'll stare."

"Great. Even worse."

Maddox paused in the doorway and looked back. "You should get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when this nightmare ends."

Maddox's smirk deepened. "Then you'll never sleep again."

---

The Next Night – Lancetti Gala

The venue glowed with chandeliers and money. Every step inside the gold-trimmed ballroom screamed old wealth and new scandals.

Everywhere cameras clicked, murmurs followed.

Soren walked beside Maddox, dressed like the moment, a sassy, crisp white ensemble that turned heads before he even stepped into the room. The tailored suit sharp, clean lines with flawless piping tracing the edges like a designer's final signature.

The fabric shimmered subtly under the chandelier light, soft but structured, hugging his waist with effortless elegance. A teasing sheer panel cut across the chest beneath the blazer, showing the faintest glimpse of skin. Confident. Bold. Unapologetically stunning, with his slightly loose choker gold thin necklace that compliment his neck and cheek bones.

Maddox's hand rested low on his back the entire time, not for the cameras anymore, but because he simply refused to let go.

Soren was tense.

"Relax," Maddox murmured, voice low as they passed a dozen flashing cameras. "You look stunning."

"That's not helping," Soren hissed. "Why are they all looking at me like I'm the main course?"

"Because you are."

Soren shot him a dirty look. "If I pass out from stress, you better carry me."

"I'll frame a picture."

Before Soren could throw a comeback, the hostess approached with a practiced smile and escorted them to their table, right at the front, where the elite gathered, and every seat cost more than Soren's rent for a year.

He sat down stiffly, adjusting his white blazer as if it might serve as armor. The fabric was flawless, but it didn't stop the way whispers slid across the room like knives. Every glance toward him was loaded-with curiosity, envy, or pure scrutiny.

Maddox, on the other hand, looked like he was built for this. Sharp, composed, absolutely unbothered. The moment they sat, he draped one arm casually behind Soren's chair, the gesture subtle but possessive.

"You're doing it again," Soren muttered without looking at him.

"Doing what?"

"Acting like you own me."

"I do." Maddox didn't even flinch.

Soren rolled his eyes. "God, I hope Alina's watching."

Maddox smirked, dark and slow. "She is."

And just like that, speak of the devil in red-Alina appeared across the room, stepping into the light like she'd rehearsed it. Her gown clung to her like molten ruby, dazzling with every move. She was dramatic. She was dangerous. She was furious.

And she was heading straight for them.

Soren cursed under his breath. "She better not....."

But she did.

"Wow," she said sweetly, stopping at their table. "You two look... so public." Her eyes flicked to Soren's outfit, lips twitching. "You went with white? That's bold."

Soren smiled tightly. "Well, red was taken. And I don't wear desperation well."

Maddox's lips twitched.

Alina's smile thinned. "You know, Maddox, I heard rumors-rumors this whole relationship was just PR."

Maddox turned to her with slow precision. "You heard wrong."

"Oh? So it's real now?" Her voice curled at the edges like smoke.

Maddox didn't answer. He stood, walked around the table with fluid ease, and pulled Soren to his feet.

Then, before anyone could process-he kissed him.

Not a soft peck. Not just for the cameras.

It was a statement.

Slow. Intentional. Fingers curled around Soren's jaw with possessive pressure, lips brushing against his like he meant it. Like he was tired of pretending.

Gasps exploded across the gala like fireworks.

Phones rose instantly. Flashes. Murmurs. Frenzy.

Soren froze-but his chest was hammering, eyes wide, face burning.

Maddox finally pulled back, not taking his eyes off Soren.

Then, calm as ever, he looked at Alina. "I don't need PR when he's right here."

Alina's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"You've had your moment," Maddox added smoothly. "Now go enjoy the rest of the event."

Alina turned on her heel with a sharp twist of glitter and rage, stalking back into the crowd with her dignity dragging behind her like a train.

Soren sat down slowly, stunned. "You kissed me."

"You're welcome."

"You really kissed me."

"You wore white," Maddox said, sipping his drink. "I lost control."

Soren stared at him, eyes flashing. "I'm going to suffocate in attention tomorrow."

"Don't worry." Maddox leaned closer, voice low and firm, "Good, in that way they'll all know you're mine." Maddox smirked.

"Crazy."