Black luxury car, black suit, red tie. Found him.

Eve Rosewild walked with purpose, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor of the luxury hotel. Confidence radiated from her as she made her way toward the man who had just exited a sleek, black luxury car. From a distance, he was the picture-perfect match for the description of Billy Bruce, the man she had hired from the escort service Gentlemen's Accompaniment.

Without hesitation, Eve reached for his wrist, her grip firm, and began dragging him toward the hotel entrance.

"Where the hell have you been? You know how important tonight is, and you show up late?" Her tone was sharp, cutting through the ambient chatter of the lobby.

The man — who now looked visibly confused — dug his heels into the floor, attempting to resist her pull. His deep, gravelly voice broke through the tension. "Excuse me, miss, but—"

"No excuses!" Eve snapped, her piercing blue eyes locking onto his. "We don't have time for explanations. We're already late!"

She tugged him forward with surprising strength for someone wearing a floor-length gown that clung to her curves like a second skin. The emerald green silk shimmered under the dim, golden lighting, accentuating her flawless complexion and the delicate curve of her bare back. Her hair, dark as midnight, cascaded in soft waves that swayed as she moved with determination.

The man's confusion gave way to irritation, but his gaze flickered, lingering for a fraction of a second on her form. There was an undeniable allure to her, a blend of vulnerability and unshakable confidence that was as captivating as it was dangerous.

"Miss," he growled, his tone firm, trying once more to break free of her hold. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but I am not—"

"Save it," Eve interrupted, her voice low and commanding. "You're being paid well for this, so just do your job."

The man's dark brows knitted together, his jaw tightening. "Paid?" he echoed, his deep voice carrying a sharp edge.

"Don't play dumb," Eve hissed, her grip tightening as she turned to glare at him. "Tall, handsome, expensive suit. You're obviously Billy Bruce!"

He stared at her, his confusion giving way to something more unreadable. But before he could get another word in, Eve yanked him toward the grand ballroom doors, her heels clicking furiously against the polished floor.

Inside, the lavish room buzzed with chatter and laughter. Crystal chandeliers cast soft, glittering light across the space, where hundreds of impeccably dressed guests mingled and sipped champagne. The queue to congratulate the bride and groom stretched long, but Eve marched them straight into it without missing a beat.

The man glanced around, his expression hardening as he tried to process the situation. "This is insane," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Eve shot him a sharp look.

"I said this is insane," he repeated coldly. "I have no idea who you are, and you've just dragged me into some... bizarre stunt. What is this, amateur abduction?"

"Keep your voice down," she snapped, her tone low but dangerous. "You only need to play along for an hour. Just long enough for my ex to see that I've moved on. That's all."

He scoffed, his lips curling into a sardonic smirk. "So, I'm your revenge prop? How flattering."

"Don't get dramatic," Eve muttered, her nails digging lightly into his wrist as she pulled him further up the line.

The man leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

Eve ignored him, her focus shifting to the head of the line where her ex-fiancé, Lucas Brown, stood with his new bride. Lucas's smile was smug, his eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction as if this entire event was orchestrated to mock her.

A tight knot formed in Eve's chest. Her grip on the man's arm tightened, her confidence wavering for just a moment.

The line moved forward again. Suddenly, Eve's phone buzzed in her clutch. Startled, she fumbled to answer it.

"Hello?" she whispered.

"Hi, Eve! This is Tamara from Gentlemen's Accompaniment," a cheerful voice chimed on the other end. "Billy just arrived in the lobby. He says he got stuck in traffic, but he's ready and waiting for you now!"

Eve froze, her blood running cold.

"What?" she whispered, glancing at the towering man beside her.

"Yes, he's in the lobby. He said he's looking forward to meeting you and helping you out tonight!"

Her heart sank as she slowly lowered the phone.

This man… wasn't Billy Bruce.

Eve's head snapped toward the stranger beside her, her cheeks flushing with mortification as he stared back at her, a dark gleam of amusement in his stormy gray eyes.

"You…" Her voice faltered.

"What's wrong, darling? Have fun and make sure your ex eats his heart out. Bye, Eve!"

Eve ended the call, her hand trembling slightly as she lowered her phone. Her face was pale, the color draining completely as realization hit her like a freight train. Slowly, she turned to the man standing beside her.

He was staring at her now, one brow raised high in a mixture of suspicion and amusement.

"You're not... Billy?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The man didn't answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharpening as though he were weighing whether to be furious or entertained. After a long pause, he leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured in a low, smooth tone, "Allow me to introduce myself, Arsh Winewood."

Eve's stomach plummeted. Her cheeks flushed crimson, a perfect storm of panic and embarrassment swirling in her chest.

She spun on her heel to fully face him, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "Why didn't you tell me earlier that I had the wrong person?" she hissed, her voice a harsh whisper.

Arsh's expression didn't waver, his face as cold and unyielding as chiseled stone. "Tell you earlier?" he repeated, arching a brow. "Do you think I had a chance to say a single word? You grabbed me, barked orders, and dragged me into whatever circus this is without so much as a pause for breath."

Eve stepped closer, her voice lowering to a venomous whisper. "You could have refused! Why the hell did you just go along with it?"

A soft, humorless laugh escaped him, the sound cutting through her indignation like a blade. "Refused? You're joking, right? You clung to me like a drowning woman grasping for air, and you didn't leave me a choice. Let's not forget how you dismissed every attempt I made to speak."

Eve glared at him, her breath hitching, but before she could unleash her frustration, Arsh leaned in closer. The distance between them shrank to mere inches, his presence overpowering and his voice dangerously low.

"Let's be honest, though," he said, his tone cool and detached, yet laced with a hint of intrigue. "What exactly were you thinking? Did you really believe you could grab some random man and march him into your ex's wedding like a pawn in your little revenge scheme? Tell me, what was your grand plan if — no, when — it all went wrong?"

Eve opened her mouth to fire back, but the sharp glint in his eyes silenced her.

"I'll admit," Arsh continued, his lips curling into a smirk that was more predatory than amused. "I'm impressed. It's not every day I'm roped into a poorly written soap opera in real life. Honestly, I'm enjoying myself."

"I hate you," Eve snapped, biting down on her bottom lip to keep herself from screaming.

But before she could retreat from his infuriating presence, Arsh's hand closed over hers. His grip was firm but not painful, steady in a way that sent a ripple of unease through her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice sharp and tinged with panic.

Arsh didn't answer right away. His lips curled into a faint smile, one that held a confidence she couldn't quite understand. "Carrying on with the drama," he murmured.

Before she could protest, he turned, leading her forward with steady, deliberate steps. His hold on her hand was unyielding, leaving no room for her to break free.

The ballroom quieted slightly as they approached the head table where Lucas and his new bride stood. Lucas's confident smile faltered as his gaze landed on them, his eyes narrowing in surprise and barely masked irritation.

Eve's heart raced, her breath caught in her throat.

Arsh stopped directly in front of the couple. His expression remained calm and composed, though his sharp gray eyes locked onto Lucas with an intensity that demanded attention.

"Congratulations on your wedding," Arsh said smoothly, his deep voice cutting through the awkward silence like a knife. He extended his hand to Lucas, who hesitated briefly before shaking it with obvious reluctance.

"And allow me to introduce myself," Arsh added, his tone dropping slightly as his lips curved into a dangerous smirk. "I'm Arsh Winewood... Eve's boyfriend."