Chapter 3 The fake kiss

"Try not to look like you're counting the seconds until you can escape," Damien said under his breath.

Amara didn't bother responding. She simply adjusted the strap of her elegant black dress, shifted her champagne glass to the other hand, and offered the room her most effortless, calculated smile.

They stood at the entrance of the Black & Gold Gala-an annual charity event filled with flashing cameras, glittering gowns, and too many secrets disguised as champagne toasts. Every step into that ballroom felt like walking into a war zone of polished lies.

"Smile," Damien muttered again.

"I am," she replied sweetly, without looking at him. "Just not for you."

Reporters clustered the moment they walked in.

"Mr. Blackwood! Who's the lovely lady?"

"Mrs. Blackwood, this is your first appearance together-how do you feel?"

"Was it love at first sight?"

Damien didn't flinch. Amara let the corner of her mouth lift just enough to feed the fantasy.

But it was all pretend.

She was pretending to adore a man she barely knew.

He was pretending she wasn't the most inconvenient part of his week.

And the crowd was pretending not to smell the frost between them.

They took a few photos. Posed. Smiled like two people not secretly drowning.

And then came the unexpected.

"Just one kiss!" a reporter called out. "Show us it's real!"

Amara froze.

Damien's hand tightened slightly on her waist. "Ignore them," he said quietly.

But she turned her face up to him, eyes steady. "No. They want a show."

He narrowed his eyes. "This wasn't part of the plan."

"And neither was this dress," she said. "But you told me to play the part."

She leaned in.

It wasn't supposed to mean anything. Just a light press of lips, quick and easy.

But it wasn't quick.

It wasn't easy.

His lips were warm, still, firm against hers-and for one small second, the room fell away.

The music. The murmurs. The cameras. All of it faded.

And when she pulled away, the look on Damien Blackwood's face wasn't cold anymore.

It was... unsettled.

So she smiled again-this time, wicked and soft.

"Congratulations," she whispered, brushing past him. "Your trophy wife just raised your stock price."

He didn't speak. He didn't move.

He just stood there, in front of everyone, looking like he'd lost control for the first time in years.

And for the first time since their deal, Amara felt like she was winning.

Chapter 3: The Fake Kiss

"Try not to look like you're counting the seconds until you can escape," Damien said under his breath.

Amara didn't bother responding. She simply adjusted the strap of her elegant black dress, shifted her champagne glass to the other hand, and offered the room her most effortless, calculated smile.

They stood at the entrance of the Black & Gold Gala-an annual charity event filled with flashing cameras, glittering gowns, and too many secrets disguised as champagne toasts. Every step into that ballroom felt like walking into a war zone of polished lies.

"Smile," Damien muttered again.

"I am," she replied sweetly, without looking at him. "Just not for you."

Reporters clustered the moment they walked in.

"Mr. Blackwood! Who's the lovely lady?"

"Mrs. Blackwood, this is your first appearance together-how do you feel?"

"Was it love at first sight?"

Damien didn't flinch. Amara let the corner of her mouth lift just enough to feed the fantasy.

But it was all pretend.

She was pretending to adore a man she barely knew.

He was pretending she wasn't the most inconvenient part of his week.

And the crowd was pretending not to smell the frost between them.

They took a few photos. Posed. Smiled like two people not secretly drowning.

And then came the unexpected.

"Just one kiss!" a reporter called out. "Show us it's real!"

Amara froze.

Damien's hand tightened slightly on her waist. "Ignore them," he said quietly.

But she turned her face up to him, eyes steady. "No. They want a show."

He narrowed his eyes. "This wasn't part of the plan."

"And neither was this dress," she said. "But you told me to play the part."

She leaned in.

It wasn't supposed to mean anything. Just a light press of lips, quick and easy.

But it wasn't quick.

It wasn't easy.

His lips were warm, still, firm against hers-and for one small second, the room fell away.

The music. The murmurs. The cameras. All of it faded.

And when she pulled away, the look on Damien Blackwood's face wasn't cold anymore.

It was... unsettled.

So she smiled again-this time, wicked and soft.

"Congratulations," she whispered, brushing past him. "Your trophy wife just raised your stock price."

He didn't speak. He didn't move.

He just stood there, in front of everyone, looking like he'd lost control for the first time in years.

And for the first time since their deal, Amara felt like she was winning.