The Weights of Secrets

The next morning, Emma woke to the soft sound of waves lapping against the shore.

For a moment, she forgot where she was.

Then reality settled in.

Italy. The villa. The fake engagement.

And Alexander's words from the night before—

"You remind me of someone I lost."

She had barely slept after that.

Alexander Westwood wasn't a man who revealed things easily. If he had told her that, it meant something.

But what?

Emma sighed, pushing the thoughts away as she got out of bed.

It didn't matter.

She wasn't here to solve the mystery of Alexander Westwood.

She was here to survive this deal.

That was all.

—

Breakfast with the Enemy

By the time Emma made it downstairs, the dining room was already occupied.

Alexander sat at the head of the long table, dressed in a crisp black suit, his expression unreadable as he sipped his coffee.

Across from him—Victoria.

Great.

"Morning," Emma muttered, taking a seat.

Victoria smiled, too sweetly. "Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?"

Emma gave her a flat look. "Like a baby."

Victoria smirked, swirling her coffee. "You must be excited for tonight."

Emma frowned. "What's tonight?"

Victoria glanced at Alexander, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Oh, he hasn't told you?"

Emma turned to him. "Told me what?"

Alexander set down his coffee. "There's a charity gala tonight. We're attending."

Emma blinked. "A gala?"

"Yes. And you'll need to play your part."

Emma exhaled slowly. "Right. Of course."

She shouldn't be surprised.

This was part of the job—playing his perfect fiancée in front of the world.

Still, she couldn't help but feel annoyed that she was the last to know.

Victoria, of course, noticed.

"Don't worry, dear," she said with a saccharine smile. "I'm sure Alexander will make sure you look presentable."

Emma clenched her jaw.

She had just about had enough of Victoria.

Alexander, however, spoke before Emma could.

"Emma always looks presentable," he said simply, his voice cool and dismissive.

Victoria's smile faltered for half a second.

Emma almost smirked.

Almost.

—

The Dress That Changes Everything

Later that afternoon, a stylist arrived at the villa with racks of designer gowns.

Emma stood in front of the mirror, trying on the latest one—a sleek, deep red dress that hugged her in all the right places.

She had never worn something this… expensive before.

It made her look different.

Powerful.

A knock on the dressing room door.

"Come in," she called, adjusting the fabric.

The door opened—Alexander.

Emma froze.

His gaze darkened as it swept over her.

For a long moment, he didn't say a word.

Then—

"That one," he said, his voice lower than usual.

Emma swallowed. "What?"

Alexander stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Wear that one tonight."

Her heart pounded.

She wasn't sure why his words sent a shiver down her spine.

It was just a dress.

And yet, when he looked at her like that—like he couldn't look away—

It didn't feel like just a dress at all.

—

The Gala Begins

The event was held at a grand estate overlooking the lake, the kind of place Emma had only seen in magazines.

The moment they arrived, photographers swarmed them.

Emma felt the weight of a hundred eyes on her.

But then—

Alexander's hand slipped around her waist.

His touch was firm, steady.

And just like that, her nerves disappeared.

"You're doing fine," he murmured against her ear.

Emma took a slow breath. "I hope so. Wouldn't want to disappoint my fiancé."

His lips quirked slightly, but he said nothing.

They stepped inside, instantly greeted by a wave of people.

Emma smiled, played her part.

But she could feel it—the way women looked at Alexander.

The admiration. The jealousy.

And worst of all—

The expectation.

Because they all thought he was still available.

And Emma wasn't sure why, but the idea bothered her.

—

A Dance of Tension

At some point in the night, a waltz began.

Alexander turned to her, his expression unreadable.

"Dance with me."

Emma hesitated. "I don't really—"

But he was already leading her to the dance floor.

His hand found hers, his other resting on her waist.

The music swelled.

Emma swallowed hard.

This was dangerous.

Being in his arms, feeling his warmth, breathing in his scent—

It felt too real.

Alexander's grip tightened slightly.

"You're tense," he murmured.

Emma forced a breath. "Maybe because I've never danced like this before."

His gaze flickered with something unreadable.

"Then let me lead."

And he did.

Effortlessly.

It should have been nothing. Just another part of the act.

But when their eyes met—

For the first time since this charade began, Emma wasn't sure if they were still pretending.

—

An Unexpected Warning

Later, Emma stepped away for some air, her thoughts a mess.

She needed space.

But then—

A voice behind her.

"You should be careful, Miss Parker."

Emma turned—an older man in a sharp suit.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I've been watching you tonight," he continued. "And I must say… you're quite good at playing the role of Alexander's fiancée."

Emma's pulse quickened.

"Who are you?"

The man took a slow sip of his drink. "Someone who knows Alexander better than you do."

Something about his tone sent a chill down her spine.

"What do you want?" she asked.

He chuckled. "A word of advice."

Emma crossed her arms. "I'm listening."

His smile faded slightly.

"Be careful not to get too close."

Her heart skipped a beat.

He tilted his head. "Alexander Westwood doesn't let people in, Miss Parker. And when he's done with you…"

His gaze darkened.

"He won't look back."

Emma swallowed hard.

She wanted to say something sharp, defiant—but the truth was, she wasn't sure he was wrong.

Because even now—with Alexander watching her from across the room, his eyes locked on hers—

She knew.

She was already in too deep.

And it was only a matter of time before she drowned.