The morning of the charity gala arrived with a crispness in the air that mirrored my state of mind. The mansion was alive with activity—staff running final checks, catering ensuring every detail was in place, and the event coordinators working to perfect the evening. It would be the first public appearance of Ivy as my fiancée. A test, not just of her ability to play the part, but of how seamlessly she could navigate the dangerous currents of high society.
I stood in front of my mirror, adjusting the tie of my midnight blue tuxedo. The reflection staring back at me was one of control, of power. The exterior I had mastered for years. But somewhere in the back of my mind, Rebecca's words from our conversation a few days ago lingered.
Ivy was not a pawn.
I sighed, pushing the thought aside. I didn't have time to dwell on that now. The evening ahead was crucial. Investors, politicians, and media would all be in attendance, and every move would be scrutinized. This wasn't just a social event; it was a stage, and every player had to know their lines.
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Come in," I called.
Rebecca entered, a vision of elegance in her dark gown, her eyes assessing me as they always did. "You look the part," she said with a smile, her tone warm but with the underlying note of seriousness that never quite left her.
"Thank you." I turned back to the mirror, smoothing out a crease in my jacket. "Is Ivy ready?"
"She is," Rebecca replied, her voice softening. "But Alexander... don't be too hard on her tonight."
I glanced at her through the reflection in the mirror. "I know what I'm doing."
Rebecca stepped closer, placing a hand on my arm. "Just remember she's still finding her way. This world... it's not kind to those who are thrown into it."
I nodded but didn't reply. I knew what she meant. But I couldn't afford to coddle Ivy tonight. The stakes were too high, and every misstep could be costly. Still, I couldn't ignore the strange pull I felt when it came to her. It wasn't just about her performance. It was about how she'd managed to get under my skin, despite my best efforts to keep her at arm's length.
"Let's get this over with," I said, walking past Rebecca and out the door.
The ballroom of the Gray Mansion had been transformed into a glittering spectacle. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a golden glow over the polished marble floors. The guests were already arriving, dressed in their finest, the air thick with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses.
I stood at the top of the grand staircase, surveying the scene below. This was my world, where every handshake, every smile held a meaning beneath the surface. And tonight, Ivy would be stepping into that world, right beside me.
I felt her presence before I saw her. Turning, I caught sight of Ivy as she appeared at the top of the staircase, and for a moment, I forgot where I was.
She was stunning. The deep emerald gown Rebecca had chosen for her flowed elegantly, hugging her figure in a way that was both tasteful and alluring. Her hair was styled in soft waves, framing her face, and her makeup was subtle yet perfect, enhancing her natural beauty. But it wasn't just the physical transformation that struck me—it was the way she held herself, with a quiet confidence that hadn't been there before.
For a moment, our eyes met, and I saw a flicker of something in her gaze. Uncertainty, perhaps, or maybe it was resolve. Either way, I knew she felt the weight of the night just as much as I did.
I stepped toward her, offering my arm.
"Thank you," she said, her voice soft, though there was a hint of nerves she couldn't quite hide.
As we descended the staircase together, all eyes turned toward us. This was the moment of truth. Every glance, every whisper would be about us—about her. Ivy Logan, the mysterious fiancée of Alexander Grayson.
We reached the bottom, and I could feel the tension in Ivy's posture as we mingled with the guests. She smiled when she was supposed to, laughed at the right moments, and nodded along to the small talk that flowed around us. But I could tell she was on edge, her mind racing to remember all the lessons Rebecca had drilled into her over the past few days.
I leaned in slightly, my voice low so only she could hear. "Relax. You're doing fine."
She glanced up at me, her expression guarded. "I don't want to make any mistakes."
"You won't," I assured her. "Just stay close and follow my lead."
As the evening progressed, I watched her interact with the guests, my mind constantly evaluating. She was holding her own, but there were moments where I could see the cracks—the brief hesitations, the fleeting looks of uncertainty. And yet, there was a quiet strength in her, something that made me believe she could handle more than I'd originally thought.
But then, as we moved toward a group of investors, a familiar face approached—one that made my stomach tighten with annoyance.
Ethan Roberts. A shark in every sense of the word, always circling for a weakness, a point of leverage. He was one of the largest investors in the company, but his ambitions extended far beyond that. And tonight, I could see that his attention was focused on Ivy.
"Well, well," Roberts said, his eyes gleaming as he extended a hand to her. "Ms. Logan, I presume? You're even more charming in person."
Ivy smiled politely, though I noticed the subtle shift in her posture, the way she edged slightly closer to me.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Roberts," she replied, her voice steady.
Roberts' gaze flicked between us, his smile thin and calculating. "You've made quite the impression tonight. Alexander is a lucky man."
"I'm well aware," Ivy said, her tone just the right balance of gracious and distant.
I watched her, intrigued by how well she was handling herself. But Roberts wasn't one to be easily dismissed.
"I'm sure you've had quite the adjustment," he continued, his tone laced with something that set my teeth on edge. "Being thrust into all of this."
I was about to intervene, but Ivy spoke before I could. "It's been a learning experience," she said smoothly. "But I'm fortunate to have had excellent guidance."
Roberts raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting such a composed response. He gave a short, almost grudging nod. "Indeed. Well, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other in the future."
As he walked away, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. Ivy had handled him perfectly—more than I could have hoped for.
"Good job," I murmured to her once we were alone again.
She exhaled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Thank you. I wasn't sure if I was saying the right thing."
"You were," I said, my voice quiet. "You did exactly what you were supposed to."
She glanced up at me, her eyes searching mine for a moment. And in that brief exchange, I realized something that unsettled me more than anything else.
I didn't just need Ivy to succeed in this role for the sake of my business or my reputation. I wanted her to succeed—for reasons I wasn't ready to confront.