Illusions

10. jealous

Amira's POV

Roman was too kind with all of this.

He spent almost 100 thousand at Bvlgari, but wouldn't let me see the bill.

With the Dior, it had to hit the 100 thousand mark.

I guess it's nothing for a billionaire.

He got a photographer to take pictures of us in the hotel room and lobby so we could 'post them' knowing full well that we both don't use social media.

Now we're sitting in the room because there was no one at the banquet hall where the gala's being held.

"What are you going to introduce me as?"

Roman looks up at me from his laptop.

"My girlfriend?"

"You never asked me," I scoff, "just say I'm your date and when we get back to New York, you can say we had this cute little rooftop moment where you asked and I said yes."

He nods.

"But I actually have to do that and ask."

This is exactly what I was afraid of.

There's no need to actually have that moment.

"No, that's unnecessary."

He rolls his eyes.

"How would we both recount the same moment if it never happened, my darling?"

"Why are you so annoying?"

"What because I'm right?"

I nod and he smirks.

He stands up and walks over to me, slowly eyeing me from top to bottom.

"I think your shoe's strap is twisted."

"Yes, that's why you just checked me out."

His eyes scan my face.

"You don't need me to tell you you're attractive," he shrugs, fixing his tie, "you should know."

My eyes drop to his tie which is still not fixed, so I fix it for him. My gesture catches both of us by surprise but I try to be nonchalant.

This is what I meant, is this for the act or just us?

For the sake of my sanity, it's the first one.

His tux is black, but the handkerchief and tie are forest green, like my dress. 

He looks... nice.

"Can we go now?"

I look up, which I still have to do in four-inch heels, and glare at him.

"You were the one working," I taunt, "aren't working hours over?"

His face flashes with annoyance.

"Yes, but who took you shopping all day?"

I roll my eyes.

"Well maybe if you fucking told me about the gala tonight, I would've planned."

He steps forward and forces me to step back into the wall.

"I thought I was doing you a favor by bringing you here," he seethes, planting his hands on the wall beside my head, "maybe I should've left you to deal with your mother, wouldn't that have been better?"

I look the other way so he doesn't see my eyes water and do my best not to ruin my makeup. But maybe I want him to look back at his stupid gala, after all, he doesn't seem to care about me.