Bound by Fate (Bound Duology Book#2)

Lines Blur

Calista had always prided herself on her composure, her ability to navigate high-stakes situations with grace and control. But as the days passed and her fake engagement to Matteo continued, she felt that control slipping. The closer they got to making their parents believe they were hopelessly in love, the harder it became to draw the line between pretense and reality.

Their "romance" had quickly become the talk of their social circle, and invitations to various events started pouring in. Everywhere they went, people gushed about what a perfect couple they were, how well they complemented each other. The very idea made her cringe, but she smiled through it, gripping Matteo's arm a little tighter whenever they played their roles. She'd mastered her poker face; letting it slip now would ruin everything.

Tonight, they were expected at a gala—an event packed with everyone who mattered in their families' worlds. Calista knew the evening would be crucial, the pressure to convince their parents stronger than ever. But tonight also felt different. An uneasy energy simmered between them, and she couldn't shake the feeling that this game was taking them somewhere she hadn't planned to go.

Matteo arrived to pick her up just as she was finishing up, dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored suit that only emphasized his natural confidence. His gaze traveled over her slowly, taking in the sleek, emerald-green gown that hugged her form.

He offered his arm, his usual smirk softening just slightly as he spoke. "You look... well, not bad, I guess."

Calista rolled her eyes, ignoring the way his compliment warmed her. "Try not to sound too impressed, DeLuca. Wouldn't want people to think you actually like me."

They shared a knowing glance, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something real in his eyes. Something softer, almost hesitant. But then he shook it off, his cocky smirk snapping back into place.

"Let's give them the show they're hoping for," he said, leading her out to the car.

---

At the gala, Matteo's behavior was meticulous, playing the role of doting fiancé to a degree that almost unnerved her. He held her close, his hand warm against her back, his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary as he guided her around the room. And he was strangely quiet tonight, his usual cockiness toned down, his gaze drifting to her at odd moments, like he was watching her for something she couldn't quite identify.

The evening passed in a blur of small talk, clinking glasses, and dazzling smiles, but all Calista could focus on was the magnetic pull between them. It was unsettling how easily he could make her heart race, the way his every glance felt like it held an unspoken promise.

During a brief lull, Matteo leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur in her ear. "You look like you're actually having fun."

She shot him a withering look, though it lacked conviction. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm just getting better at this whole 'pretend fiancée' thing."

"Is that all it is?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes dark.

She hesitated, her heart stuttering in her chest. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he was as caught up in this game as she was. But before she could respond, they were interrupted by an announcement over the speakers.

"And now," the emcee announced, "a special dance for tonight's engaged couples! We invite you all to take the floor."

Calista felt her pulse quicken, a surge of panic rising in her chest. She hadn't anticipated this. Matteo, however, merely extended his hand, his smirk gone, replaced by a look of calm resolve.

"Shall we?"

She wanted to refuse, to turn away, to call off the entire charade. But the way he looked at her—steady, waiting—kept her feet rooted in place. With a deep breath, she placed her hand in his, and he led her onto the dance floor.

The music began, a slow, haunting melody that seemed to wrap around them, drawing them closer. Matteo's arm circled her waist, pulling her firmly against him, and for once, she couldn't detect any hint of sarcasm or arrogance in his expression.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice low and surprisingly gentle. "You're tense."

"Maybe because I'm dancing with someone I'd rather not be here with," she muttered, though her voice wavered slightly.

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening just a bit. "Then maybe you're not as good an actress as you think."

She wanted to snap back, to remind him that she'd spent years perfecting the art of pretending, of hiding her real feelings behind a mask. But as they swayed together under the golden lights, her retorts faded, replaced by a sensation she didn't want to acknowledge.

The song carried on, its melody wrapping around them, and Calista felt the weight of his hand against her waist, the warmth of his touch anchoring her in a way that was both comforting and terrifying. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her pulse quickening as she realized he was looking at her with an intensity she'd never seen before.

"Matteo," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "What... what are we doing?"

For a moment, his eyes softened, and he looked as if he might actually answer, as if he might finally drop the walls he kept so carefully in place. But then the song ended, applause erupted around them, and the spell was broken. Matteo released her, stepping back as though nothing had happened.

"Just playing the part," he said, his voice casual, but his eyes lingering on hers a second too long. "You did well, *fiancée*."

Calista forced a smile, swallowing the surge of disappointment that twisted in her chest. "Likewise," she replied coolly.

As they returned to their table, she found herself struggling to catch her breath. She reminded herself that this was all just a game, a performance. But for the first time, she felt as though the lines were blurring, slipping into something far more dangerous than she'd anticipated.

---

When the gala finally ended, Matteo drove her home in silence. The air in the car was thick with an unspoken tension, a feeling she couldn't quite name. She could feel him glancing at her now and then, but she kept her gaze trained out the window, determined not to let him see how unsettled she was.

As they pulled up in front of her house, he shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "Tonight went well," he said, his tone neutral.

"Yes, it did," she replied, her voice colder than she'd intended.

He hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say something more, but then he simply nodded. "Good night, Calista."

"Good night," she murmured, quickly getting out of the car.

But as she reached her front door, she paused, glancing back. Matteo was still watching her, his gaze unreadable. For a brief, reckless moment, she wondered what would happen if she went back to him, if she demanded answers to the questions swirling in her mind. But she dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. This was a game, a performance, nothing more.

She turned and went inside, her heart pounding as she closed the door behind her.

But as she lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, she couldn't shake the image of his face, the softness in his gaze during that dance. She'd spent years despising Matteo DeLuca, and yet, in a single night, everything had changed.

Because as much as she wanted to believe this was just an act, a small, stubborn part of her was starting to wonder if it was real.

Bisou,