WHAT WE NEVER SAID |18+

Kiss

Zayden's POV

The engagement party was in full swing. It wasn’t the grand wedding yet, but the media frenzy was already buzzing around us. The room was packed with high society, every corner filled with people who seemed more interested in the spectacle than the actual couple. Zara stood beside me, looking stunning in a shimmering silver gown that clung to her figure perfectly. Her eyes scanned the room, clearly bored by the endless stream of congratulations we were receiving.

“Smile,” I whispered through clenched teeth, keeping my face plastered with a grin for the cameras.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she shot back, her voice icy, but her expression never faltered. The flash of cameras bounced off her perfect face as she waved at a few more people.

The engagement ceremony had gone exactly as expected—extravagant, flashy, and completely fake. Just like the agreement we had made. One year, we’d play this role for everyone else, but the real countdown had already begun.

And yet, despite the agreement, the tension between us was palpable.

“Now we have to dance,” I muttered as the music shifted, signaling it was time for the traditional couple’s dance.

Zara didn’t say a word, just glared at me before offering her hand. I took it, leading her to the center of the room. As soon as we stepped into position, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us under the spotlight.

As the music began, I pulled her close, our bodies barely inches apart. Her hand rested on my shoulder, while my arm wrapped around her waist. We moved to the slow rhythm, but there was nothing peaceful about it. Every step felt like a struggle for dominance.

“You know, you’re not as good at pretending as you think,” Zara whispered, her voice low and full of venom.

“Oh, I think I’m doing just fine,” I replied, tightening my grip on her waist, pulling her closer, making sure the cameras captured the image of a perfect couple.

She glared at me, her body tense against mine. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Zayden. One year can’t come soon enough.”

“Maybe for you. But I have a feeling you’re going to miss me when it’s over,” I teased, my smirk widening as her eyes darkened with anger.

Her nails dug into my shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

The dance came to an end, and we stepped apart, but the tension between us didn’t dissipate. We were supposed to mingle with the guests again, but as we moved to the edge of the dance floor, Zara spun around to face me.

“Why do you always have to push my buttons?” she hissed, her eyes blazing.

“Because it’s fun watching you lose control,” I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest.

She stepped closer, her voice dropping low, her anger barely contained. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But you’re just a spoiled brat who can’t stand the idea that someone might actually dislike you.”

“Oh, trust me, Zara. I know you hate me. You’ve made that crystal clear since school.”

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, it seemed like she might actually hit me. But instead, she just stepped closer, her voice dropping even lower. “You have no idea how much I can’t wait for this to be over.”

Before I could respond, a few guests nearby stopped talking, their attention now focused on us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see more people turning in our direction, and a few of the paparazzi were already snapping pictures, sensing drama.