The mirror in the dressing room was tricky. It made me feel like a queen, draped in a shimmering, silver-beaded gown that fit perfectly, hugging every curve like it was made just for me. But it didn't show the invisible chain Roman had snapped around my neck.
"You look... acceptable," Roman's voice broke the silence.
I didn't turn around. I watched his reflection as he stepped into the room, adjusting his obsidian cufflinks. He looked like the devil heading to a black-tie funeral.
"Acceptable?" I echoed, my voice cool and icy. "I thought you bought the best. Or are you losing your touch along with your humanity?"
Roman moved behind me, hands resting gently on my bare shoulders. His skin was unnervingly warm against the cold silk.
"Don't mistake my investment for admiration, Eva. Tonight, you're a trophy. At the Founders' Gala, everyone who's ever doubted my reach will see you in my arms. They'll see the woman who said 'no' finally saying 'yes' to Claudius name__."
"I'm saying 'yes' to Leo's life," I corrected, shaking his hands off. "There's a difference."
"To the world, there's no difference," Roman whispered, leaning down so his lips brushed my ear. "Tonight, don't look at the floor. Don't look for an exit. Look at me like I'm the only person in the room. If I catch your eyes wandering toward a door—or a memory—Leo's rent will skyrocket. And his skin will be decorated with bruises."
I turned to face him, heels clicking sharply on the marble. "You can control my eyes, Roman. You can even control my feet. But you can't control what I say when the microphones are on. And trust me, there will be plenty of them tonight, right?"
Roman's jaw tightened. For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of genuine irritation. He liked his toys to be silent.
"Try it," he challenged, his voice low and dangerous. "Speak a word out of turn, and I'll have 'your struggling hero' arrested for the theft of the funds I just 'accidentally' deposited into his account. I own the police, Eva. I own the story. Don't test my patience."
A few hours later, we arrived at the event center. Roman grabbed my hand, his fingers threading through mine, grip like a shackle rather than a sign of affection.
"Smile, Eva. It's showtime." He reminded me.
The gala was a sea of fake smiles and expensive perfumes. Some women threw themselves at men with deep pockets, while others searched for the best curves they could find. We stepped into the ballroom, and the whispers started following us like a boat's wake.
"Is that her?"
"The waitress from the Imperial?"
"I heard he paid a million just to get her to dinner."
Roman moved through the debating crowd with the grace of a shark, his hand always on my back. He guided me to a group of men who looked like they'd never worked a day in their lives.
"Roman! The man of the hour," one man beside our table boomed, his eyes scanning me with keen interest. "And this must be the... acquisition we've heard so much about__."
"She's not an acquisition, Julian," Roman said smoothly, as hard as steel beneath silk. "She's the exception to every rule."
"I hope she becomes Mrs. Roman soon," Another voice teased, leaning in. " And I hope she has a voice "
As I was wondering how men of their calibers could be this nosy, I felt Roman's fingers dig into my waist—a warning. I looked at some of them, then at Roman, and flashed the most dazzling, fake smile I'd ever practiced.
"Hello!," I said sweetly, like honeyed poison. "But I usually only use it for things that matter, like telling Mr. Roman how much I admire his efficiency. He doesn't believe in wasting time on 'romance' or 'consent' when he can just use a checkbook."
The circle went quiet. Roman's grip on me became painful.
"She's got a sharp wit," Roman said through gritted teeth, eyes glowing with intensity. "That's part of why she's so entertaining."
"That's not true, Roman!" a new voice joined the group.
I froze. That voice—that voice didn't belong in this room full of vultures. It was familiar—too familiar.
I turned my head. Standing there, dressed in a tuxedo slightly too tight in the shoulders and clearly rented, was Leo.
His arm was still in a sling, but his posture was proud, and his eyes burned like twin flames. He wasn't looking at the billionaires. He was only looking at me.
"Leo?" I breathed, the word slipping out before I could stop it.
Roman's face changed, full of surprise as his mask of sophistication fell away, revealing a more vulnerable side beneath. He stepped closer, shielding me with his body.
"Leo," Roman growled, his voice tinged with deep anger. "There's probably a restraining order being drawn up with your name on it. How did you even get past the gate?"
Leo didn't flinch. He calmly reached into his pocket and produced a gold-embossed invitation.
"I came as the guest of the Women's Fair Treatment Foundation," Leo said confidently, his voice resonating across the quiet ballroom.
Roman chuckled darkly.
"You think these people care about an ex-warehouse worker's story? You're just a fly on a windshield, Leo. One flick, and you're gone."
Leo stepped closer, undeterred by the security guards approaching. He looked Roman straight in the eye.
"A fly can still blind the driver, Roman. You can't silence a child or stop him from crying. I'm tired of running from you. You've taken everything that made life meaningful. And now, you've crossed the line. I'm willing to face any consequences," Leo shouted. Then, turning to me, "Eva, I love you, and I hope you stay strong." he added.
Roman's face turned pale—not with fear, but with a cold, uncontrollable rage. What worried him even more was the press and media already poised for a story. He signaled to his guards.
"Throw him out of here now!" he ordered firmly.
"Wait!" I called out, stepping forward from behind Roman.
As the guards grabbed Leo, he made no resistance. Instead, he looked at the crowd of reporters whose cameras were already capturing the chaos.
"You can throw me out, Roman!" Leo shouted as they led him toward the exit. "But you should be worried about a man with nothing to lose."
Roman spun to face me, his hand gripping my arm tight. His eyes were wide and manic.
"You planned this chaos, huh?" he accused.
I looked at him confidently, no longer afraid.
"I didn't have to, Roman. You're so full of yourself to realize what sacrifice love requires. And you'd better tell them not to hurt him, or I'll expose you to the press. Leo's freedom was the reason I signed that contract. And I must ruin your moment"
Leo surrendered to the guards easily, but one overzealous guard slapped him repeatedly. I was deeply hurt as tears rolled down my cheeks. Nothing was worthy of a secret. I rushed to the center stage ready to tell my story.
As I grabbed the microphone, all eyes in the room turned towards me.