"I warned you once not to look back... But here you are, tempting me again to ruin your happily ever after with her."
My words hung heavy between us, but his smirk only deepened as he leaned in, so close our lips nearly touched. "Maybe I like the ri...
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True to his word, Wallace arrived at my house that Saturday afternoon to pick me up for our date.
The low rumble of tires on gravel reached my ears before I saw the sleek, black car pulling up the winding driveway.
With a slow breath, I stepped outside, settling my polished mask of politeness over every part of me. As I approached, a man in a sharp black suit stepped forward, nodding and opening the back door with practiced precision.
"Miss Hart," he greeted, his tone clipped yet courteous.
"Thank you," I replied softly, letting a delicate smile curve my lips. As I slipped toward the open door, I spotted Wallace inside, already seated with a casual arrogance that was somehow infuriating and... well, undeniably striking. His glare met me head-on, his jaw ticking slightly as he watched my every move.
Well, someone's clearly still disgusted.
I gave him one of my best polite smiles, the kind that could both soothe and shield. But Wallace's gaze was cold and didn't smiled back. Instead, Wallace pointedly turned his head to the side, dismissing me without a word.
Lovely.
I bit back the urge to roll my eyes, taking in his posture instead. He leaned back against the plush leather seat, one foot stretched forward, arms draped casually across the backrest. He was manspreading, something that normally irritates me to no end. But for some reason, the sight made my thoughts stumble, just a bit. There was an energy to him, an undeniable strength that lingered in the air, and it struck me in a way I refused to acknowledge.
No. Stop it. He's not hot. He's infuriating, and the last thing I need was to get distracted by how good he looked when he's being his usual, brooding self.
I climbed into the car, keeping my face blank, turning my gaze toward the window, where the familiar shapes of the estate began to blur as we drove. Beside me, Wallace didn't so much as glance in my direction, his face turned to the opposite window, leaving the atmosphere icy and taut.
Fine. If he wanted cold and distant, I could match him step for step. This wasn't a real date anyway but an obligation, one of many in my life's carefully curated script. And between us, I'm the one who knew how to play the part.
The car slid to a halt outside the charity event venue, and I straightened, pushing all thoughts of Wallace's irritating presence to the back of my mind.
This day wasn't about him. It was about control. And I was going to make sure everything goes according to plan.
The charity event was set up at a sprawling community center surrounded by children darting around, their laughter ringing out against the understated, elegant banners that decorated the walls. Wallace's parents stood just inside the entrance, his father already angling himself toward the cameras, his face set in that crafted smile politicians mastered. High-profile guests mingled by the donation tables, already evaluating each other as much as the event itself.
