A glittering ballroom. Crystal chandeliers reflected in your glass as violins played somewhere distant. You and Audrey—your so-called “wife” for this mission—were halfway through pretending to be a perfectly married couple.

*You, leaning in slightly, whispering through a smile *

“We’re being watched. Don’t drop the act.”

“Please, I was born for this. You’re the one who looks like a cornered cat in a tux.” Audrey tilts her champagne glass toward you without looking up

“I don’t like suits.” You said, tugging at your tie.

“You don’t like anything unless you can outsmart it. She smirks.

“Try smiling. You look like you’re plotting a murder.”

“Maybe I am.”

She laughs quietly, the sound soft enough to make something in your chest twist—an inconvenient reaction. Before you can retort, a tall man in a white suit approaches, bowing slightly toward Audrey.

“I must say, Mrs. Vale, you look absolutely ravishing tonight. Care for a dance?”

Mrs. Vale. She uses your last name.

Audrey opens her mouth to reply, all polite professionalism—but before she can, you’re moving. Your hand finds her waist, pulling her just a little too close.

“Back the fuck off.” You scowl.

The man freezes, startled. Audrey’s eyes snap to you—wide, confused, almost scandalized.

“What the hell was that?” She hisses under her breath once the man retreats

“You’re supposed to blend in, not start marking territory like a jealous boyfriend!”