Page 37

TWENTY

AUDREY

The emerald silk slides over my skin like water, the fabric catching the afternoon light streaming through my bedroom windows. I turn in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the neckline, smoothing the skirt.

The stylist knew what she was doing when she picked this dress. The color makes my skin glow, and the cut flatters every curve. Perfect for tonight's investor reception. Perfect for Gio's fiancée.

Perfect for a woman who I won't be after tomorrow.

My reflection stares back at me, and I practice the smile I'll need to wear all evening. Polite. Interested. Grateful to be here. All the things a good Worthington daughter should be when she's standing beside the man who saved her family's business.

Tomorrow, I'll never have to wear that smile again.

The thought sends a thrill through me that I quickly push down. Not yet. I can't let myself feel the freedom yet, not when I still have to get through tonight. Not when Gio is downstairs waiting, probably checking his watch and wondering what's taking me so long.

I slide the heavy engagement ring onto my finger, feeling its familiar weight settle against my skin. Three carats of flawless diamond that might as well be a chain. One more night of wearing it. One more night of pretending it means something to me other than obligation and expectation.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway makes me straighten my shoulders. Showtime.

"Come in," I call, arranging my face into the pleasant expression that's become second nature.

Gio enters without knocking, which should annoy me but doesn't surprise me.

Nothing about my space has ever been off-limits to him, not since the engagement.

He's dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that probably costs more than most people make in a month, his dark hair styled exactly right, not a single detail out of place.

He looks like what he is—a man who owns everything he touches.

His eyes sweep over me in that way that makes my skin crawl, assessing, cataloguing, claiming. I force myself not to step back.

"You look perfect," he says, crossing to where I stand. "Absolutely perfect."

"Thank you." I keep my voice warm, friendly. The voice of a woman who's happy to see her fiancé. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

He reaches for my hands, lifting them to examine my appearance more closely. His fingers are cold against mine, and I have to concentrate on not pulling away.

"The dress is ideal for tonight. Sophisticated but not conservative. You'll make exactly the right impression on the investors." He releases one of my hands to touch the diamond necklace at my throat. "This complements the ring beautifully."

I nod, playing along. "I wanted everything to be perfect for tonight. I know how important this reception is."

"It is important." His hand settles on my waist, possessive and firm. "These investors have the potential to change everything for Worthington Sports. With their backing, we could expand nationwide within five years."

I let him guide me toward the bedroom door, matching his pace even though every instinct screams at me to run. Tomorrow. I just have to make it through tonight, and then tomorrow, Reign and I will disappear. No more pretending. No more performing.

"Tell me about the investors," I say as we walk down the hallway. It's easier to focus on logistics than on the weight of his hand on my back. "What should I know?"

"Scott Duncan runs a private equity firm out of San Francisco. Conservative, traditional values. He'll appreciate seeing a stable couple." We reach the top of the stairs, and Gio pauses. "Rachel Morrison is new money, tech industry. She responds well to confidence and innovation."

I nod along as he continues briefing me, memorizing names and details I'll never need to remember past tonight. The information slides through my mind like water, meaningless now that I know I won't be part of this world much longer.

"You're quiet today," Gio observes as we descend the staircase. "Everything alright?"

The question catches me off guard. I've been so focused on acting normal that I haven't considered whether normal for me includes being more talkative.

"Just thinking about tonight," I say, which isn't entirely a lie. "I want to make sure I say all the right things."

He stops at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face me fully. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones in what anyone watching would think is a tender gesture.

"You don't need to worry about that. Just be yourself." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "The woman I fell in love with is perfect exactly as she is."

The words should be romantic. They should make me feel cherished, wanted.

Instead, they make me want to laugh. He didn't fall in love with me.

He fell in love with the idea of me—the Worthington name, the family connections, the way I look on his arm at events like tonight.

He's never seen the real me, never wanted to.

But Reign has. Reign sees everything I am and wants it all.

"That's sweet of you to say," I manage, letting him see what he expects—gratitude, affection, the soft pleasure of a woman hearing exactly what she needs to hear.

He leans down and presses his lips to mine, a claiming more than a kiss. I don't pull away, don't resist, but I don't respond either. I simply endure it, counting the seconds until he releases me.

"Ready?" he asks against my mouth.

"Ready."

The drive to the reception venue passes in comfortable silence, at least on the surface.

Gio reviews his notes on his phone while I watch the Cooper Heights scenery roll past the tinted windows.

The familiar streets, the manicured lawns, the perfect houses hiding imperfect lives.

Tomorrow, I'll see all of this in my rearview mirror for the last time.

"Remember," Gio says as we pull up to the Worthington Arena, "tonight is about building relationships. Let them see how happy we are together, how solid our partnership is."

Partnership. Not love, not romance. Partnership. At least he's honest about what this is.

"Of course," I say. "We're a team."

His smile this time is genuine, pleased. "Exactly."

The Worthington Arena's event center is already buzzing with activity when we arrive.

The reception space has been transformed into something elegant and modern, all clean lines and strategic lighting.

Servers move through the crowd carrying trays of champagne and canapés, and I can hear the gentle hum of conversation and laughter that indicates a successful social gathering.

Gio's hand finds the small of my back as we enter, steering me toward a cluster of well-dressed people near the bar. I recognize a few faces from previous arena events, but most are new. The investors, I assume.

"Giovanni!" A man with silver hair and an expensive suit breaks away from his conversation to approach us. "Good to see you."

"Edward, thank you for coming." Gio shakes the man's hand firmly. "I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Audrey Worthington. Audrey, this is Edward Chen."

I extend my hand with a warm smile. "Mr. Chen, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Worthington." His handshake is firm, his eyes assessing but kind. "I've heard wonderful things about your family's involvement in the community."

"Thank you. We believe in supporting the businesses and people that make Cooper Heights special." The words flow easily, years of social training taking over. "The arena is exactly the kind of innovative venue our community needs."

Edward nods approvingly, and I can see Gio's satisfaction in my peripheral vision. This is what he needs from me—the perfect complement to his business ambitions, the society wife who says all the right things to all the right people.

For the next hour, I play the role flawlessly.

I smile at the right moments, ask thoughtful questions, laugh at jokes that aren't particularly funny.

I let Gio guide me from group to group, his hand never leaving my back, his introductions always emphasizing our relationship, our partnership, our shared vision for the future.

I'm in the middle of a conversation with Rachel Morrison about the tech industry's impact on traditional businesses when I see a familiar face approaching from across the room.

Tiffany Breslin. Former Cooper Heights majorette captain, current real estate agent, and one of the most persistent women I've ever met when it comes to staying in touch with old teammates.

My stomach drops.

"Audrey!" Tiffany calls out, her voice carrying across the space between us. "Oh my God, I thought that was you!"

I excuse myself from the conversation with Rachel, hoping my smile doesn't look as forced as it feels. "Tiffany, hi. What a surprise to see you here."

"I'm working with one of the investors on some property deals," she says, gesturing vaguely toward the crowd. "But never mind that—I can't believe I'm running into you! I've been meaning to call."

Gio appears at my side, his businessman's smile firmly in place. "Gio Vega," he says, extending his hand to Tiffany. "Audrey's fiancé."

"Tiffany Breslin. Audrey and I were majorettes together back in high school." She shakes his hand enthusiastically before turning back to me. "Speaking of which, I can't believe you missed the reunion weekend! We were all so disappointed."

My blood turns to ice. The reunion weekend. The majorette reunion I supposedly went to but actually spent with Reign at his cabin, learning what it felt like to be truly alive for the first time in my life.

"The reunion weekend?" I repeat, buying myself time to think.

"At Fit Mountain Resort, remember? You signed up and everything, and then you just never showed." Tiffany's expression is genuinely confused, maybe a little hurt. "We kept looking for you on Saturday, and when you didn't come to the dinner or the lake activities on Sunday, Sarah tried calling you."