Ava had been to a thousand galas, but none quite like this.
She entered on Dante's arm, the ballroom lighting catching the shimmer of her champagne-gold gown, fitted and flawless. Her presence turning heads long before they saw who she came with.
Dante Ashcroft.
Every camera angle found him. Every glance lingered on them.
He looked devastating in a black-on-black suit, like sin in silk. And when he rested his palm lightly on her lower back, guiding her through the crowd, Ava had to remind herself this was all pretend.
Six months. A business arrangement. A power play.
So why did it feel so right?
"Smile,"Dante murmured without looking at her. "They're watching."
"I know," she replied, plastering on the smile she'd perfected over years of society dinners."
They descended the ballroom steps together, sweeping into the heart of the room. Ava could already hear the whispers. People always loved to talk.
"That's Ava Sterling, right?"
"With Dante Ashcroft? No way."
"Didn't she just expose her fiancé and sister last week? At the Last Gala?"
Ava lifted her chin, her fingers brushing the pendant at her throat—the one Dante had given her after saving her life. It still pulsed faintly warm against her skin.
She didn't know why she hadn't taken it off. Only that… part of her didn't want to.
At the far end of the ballroom, Lily, her stepsister, nearly choked on her drink.
Draped in silver, Lily looked stunned—no, furious. Her lips curled as her eyes landed on Dante.
"What's he doing with her?" she muttered to a companion.
"Isn't that Dante Ashcroft?" her friend gasped. Are they together ?."
Lily's gaze sharpened. She set her drink down with too much force. "Not for long."
Later, Ava leaned against the balustrade, away from prying eyes. Her fingers toyed with the pendant.
Dante joined her, his voice softer now. "You did well."
"What do you mean?, I didn't do anything." Ava replied.
"That's what you think."
She looked at him then. "Why are you really doing this, Dante? The business merger, the appearances… the protection?"
He didn't answer immediately. His eyes searched hers. When he spoke, his voice held an edge of truth that made her spine tighten.
"Because you're more than you think, Ava.
And there are people who want to destroy that before you realize it."
She stiffened. "What people?"
He looked at the pendant. "That will protect you—for now."
"Dante… what are you not telling me?"
For a moment, he looked almost pained. Then he stepped closer.
"You're not just caught in family drama," he said. "You're walking into a war you can't see yet. And I'm the only one who can help you survive it."
She stared at him, heart thudding. "Why?"
"Because you're mine."
She laughed, cold and deflective. "Possessive much?"
But his expression didn't waver.
"You don't understand yet," he said quietly.
"But soon, you will."
Dante tilted his head, a slow smirk touching his lips. "
Something fluttered in her chest.
Their conversation was cut short as the gala's host raised a toast, and guests clinked glases.
Before she could turn to him, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then went off totally.
But Dante's gaze had gone cold. Alert.
"Was that—?" Ava began.
Dante's hand touched her waist. "We need to leave."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you right now, we need to leave."