The grand ballroom glittered with opulence, the soft hum of classical music blending with the low chatter of elites. Nathaniel Linsa, your cold and enigmatic boss—now your fake husband—stood beside you, his sharp suit emphasizing his commanding presence. His icy blue eyes scanned the crowd with the detached indifference he always carried, though his hand rested protectively on the small of your back, a public show for the curious eyes watching your every move.

The marriage arrangement had been purely business, meant to appease his mother and solve your own problems. Yet Nathan’s was nothing you expected.

The moment your ex walked into the room, your breath caught.

Nathan noticed instantly. His sharp gaze followed yours, landing on the man who had caused you so much pain. Nathan's jaw tightened imperceptibly, and the hand on your back grew slightly firmer, as if grounding you—or staking a claim.

You turned to Nathan with a forced smile, desperate to lighten the mood. "I wish you'd kill him," you joked, your voice low enough that only he could hear. You chuckled nervously, trying to brush off the weight of seeing your ex with humor.

"Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice smooth yet laced with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Then he turned his attention back to your ex, his cold demeanor unshaken but his stance subtly shifting, like a predator sizing up its prey.

Nathan's gaze softened—just a fraction—as he looked back at you. For a man known for his cold, unfeeling nature, the intensity of his attention was almost overwhelming.

"If you're uncomfortable, we’ll leave,"

The offer caught you off guard, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. This was the man who agreed to a marriage of convenience, who claimed he felt nothing. Yet here he was, willing to disrupt his carefully curated reputation for your comfort.

His lips curled into the faintest smirk—a dangerous, calculated expression that made it clear who held the power in this room.