Marla’s POV…
Back to the game. After a little misunderstanding, we decided to reconcile and continue our arrangement. Him? He needed a fiancée for his image. Me? I was broke and needed the money.
That was the plan, nothing more. No assumptions, no hopes, just a performance. I reminded myself of that with every step: it was all pretend. No room for attachment. The ball was in full swing, crystal chandeliers, overpriced wine, women in gowns so tight they couldn’t exhale, and men comparing stock portfolios like it was foreplay. And in the middle of it all? Me. Playing the fiancée of the century.
“Smile,” Dana whispered, giving me a little shove onto the red carpet. “The internet’s still on fire from last week. Give them a show.”
Dana knew everything, she was the only one I trusted enough to tell. So I did, I took her advice. I smiled like I meant it, laughed on cue, and slipped my arm through Ives’ like we were two people newly in love, not... whatever the hell we actually were. He didn’t say much. Just nodded, posed, nodded again. Always composed, and always perfect.
I wasn’t expecting a thank you, not from the man who used an image like it was a love language, but I could feel his gaze on me all night. Watching, studying, like he was trying to figure out how I’d flipped the switch back on. But I hadn’t. I was just running the script.
“Want a drink?” he murmured.
“No,” I said without looking at him. “I want an exit plan and a nap. But I’ll take champagne.”
He handed me a glass without another word. I took a sip and forced a laugh when a Mercer board member made some cringey joke about influencers, my cheeks were starting to cramp. Then the air shifted. You know that feeling when a teacher walks in during detention? When everything tightens and people sit up a little straighter. Yeah. That.
I felt Ives tense beside me before I even turned, and then I saw her. She walked in like she owned the oxygen. Tall, sculpted, wrapped in a blood-red dress that screamed money and danger. People moved for her without thinking, like she was royalty, or a loaded weapon. And she was headed straight for us. Heels clicking like a countdown.
Ives’s grip twitched around his glass, but his expression didn’t budge. “Who’s that?” I whispered, not really expecting an answer.
Dana slid up beside me and smiled without moving her lips. “That’s Ava. Ives’s ex.”
Of course it was. The room seemed to narrow around her as she stopped in front of us, eyes locking on Ives like a challenge she’d already won.
Then she smiled. “Ives.”
His response landed sharp. “Ava.”
No warmth, just an unwelcoming tone as he says her name, delivered like a verdict. So this was her. I didn’t know the full story, but I didn’t need a novel to feel the history between them pulsing like static.
I gave her a polite, polished smile. “Hi. I’m Marla.”
She glanced at me for half a second. “I know who you are.”
Right, the fake, stand-in. My stomach twisted, but I didn’t blink. I could play this game too. “You look stunning,” I said, tilting my head just enough to imply a compliment. “That shade of red almost hides the tension.” Ives exhaled, a single breath, but I caught it.
Ava’s smile twitched. “Still sharp, Ives. Guess some things haven’t changed.”
And that’s when I knew. She wasn’t just an ex. She was the ex. The kind that ruins the entire concept of love. And if I wasn’t careful? I was next.