Chapter Twelve
CADEN
More about their pasts and why this arrangement becomes dangerous
A heated cliffhanger
By the time Kamiyah’s breathing evens out, I’ve already thrown on a dark suit jacket and shrugged into the armor I’ve spent years perfecting: effortless power, unshakable calm, lethal intention.
I’m back to being the man the world knows—the ruthless negotiator, the corporate prince with blood made of ink and contracts.
But inside?
Inside I’m the man whose forehead was pressed to hers minutes ago, whose restraint snaps under the heat of her breath. The man who still feels her trembling hand in mine.
I turn to her.
She’s standing near the windows, hands clasped, staring out at the city lights like she’s trying to steady herself. The skyline glows against her silhouette—soft, fragile, determined.
“Kamiyah,” I say.
She turns.
I step closer, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve. “We’re making the announcement in twenty minutes.”
Her eyes widen. “Twenty—? Why so soon?”
“Because your aunt moves fast,” I say. “And I move faster.” The gala is the biggest private event for the elites and everyone will be there — donors, investors, judges, and the heads of many organizations.
A shiver ripples through her. “What do we even tell people?”
“The truth,” I say simply.
Her lips part. “Our truth?”
“For tonight,” I clarify, brushing past her to pour a glass of water at the bar, “our truth is that we’re in love.”
The glass stills halfway to my lips.
The words hang between us.
“In love,” she echoes, barely audible.
I glance at her over the rim, pulse kicking unexpectedly. “Is that a problem?”
She swallows. “No. Just… surprising.”
“Good.” I set the glass down. “This only works if we sound convincing.”
Her cheek flushes a delicate pink.
God, she’s dangerous. I step toward her slowly, closing distance that’s become far too easy to cross.
She doesn’t back away.
“Honey,” I murmur, tilting her chin up gently with a knuckle, “I need you steady. I need you confident. And I need you willing to let them believe every word I say.” I know she’s attracted to me, care even, but love…
Her breath catches. “I can do that.” Her voice trembles on the last syllable, and I shouldn’t enjoy it as much as I do.
“Good,” I say softly. I should drop my hand.
I don’t.
Her pulse flutters against my fingers. Her gaze flicks to my mouth before she snaps it back to mine. The room tightens, heat simmering in the air like a storm waiting to break.
After a moment she steps back suddenly, flushed. “I… I need to fix my hair.”
I smile. “You look fine.”
“I don’t feel fine.”
“You will,” I say.
But I’m lying. Because nothing about tonight is fine.
Not the announcement.
Or the charade.
Not the fact that she wouldn’t be surrounded by supportive friends and family when the engagement is announced. And not that our alliance stems from desperation instead of love.
The car is silent except for the hum of the engine. Shadows from street lights dust the streets. Kamiyah sits beside me, hands gripping the skirt of her dress as if the fabric might stabilize her thoughts.
“You didn’t ask where we’re going,” I say.
She licks her lips. “I assumed someplace where we’ll be seen.”
“Charity event,” I correct. “The Bridge to Tomorrow gala. Press everywhere.”
Her head snaps toward me. “You’re throwing me into the lion’s den.”
Priscilla hasn’t been exactly quiet these past weeks. In fact, she’s been very public, hoping the show will garner her support. “They already smell blood,” I say. “I’m giving them a distraction.”
“Which is… us.”
“Exactly.”
She exhales shakily. “My aunt will be there.”
“I’m counting on it.”
She turns fully, eyes searching mine. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“No,” I say honestly. “But I’m good at it.”
Her gaze softens with something I don’t expect—sadness. “I hate that you had to become good at things like this.”
I tense.
She looks away quickly.
For a moment, silence stretches between us, thick and full of shadows. I grip the wheel. “You, of all people, don’t get to pity me after all you’ve been through.”
“I wasn’t pitying you,” she says quietly. “I was seeing you.” Her words punch something raw inside me. The only person that ever understood the man behind the mask was my mother. Not even my ex cared to look any deeper than surface level.
Lights. Music. Cameras.
The second we walk in, the room stills. Not a full stop—just a soft ripple of attention, a shifting of posture, champagne flutes pausing midair.
Kamiyah stiffens beside me and I slide a hand to the small of her back — hovering close enough for her to feel my presence. A silent promise.
I’m here.
I’m not letting them eat you alive.
Almost without thinking, she leans the slightest bit into me.
It sends a bolt of heat through my veins.
A reporter spots us. Then another. Before long, murmurs spread like electricity through the crowd.
Then, Priscilla materializes across the room, her eyes going wide.
Kamiyah tenses beside me like she’s preparing for impact. Before her aunt can charge toward us, I lean in, lips grazing the outer shell of Kamiyah’s ear, causing her to shiver. “Smile,” I whisper. “You’re in love with me, remember?”
Her breath stutters—but she lifts her chin and gives the softest, most disarming smile. The effect is immediate.
Camera flashes go off.
People start whispering.
“Your radiant,” I say, offering my arm. “Ready?”
She frowns. “Wait, you’re announcing it now?”
“We have everyone’s attention, better now than when they’re focussed on speeches or too drunk to register our announcement.”
She slips her hand into mine—nervous, trusting—and I face the waiting crowd. “Okay.”
With one steady breath, I give them the truth we’ve chosen. “Kamiyah and I are engaged.”
The room erupts—gasps, cheers, camera flashes exploding like fireworks.
“Smile, Honey.” I squeeze her hand. “You’re doing great.”
She exhales shakily, but her eyes warm. “You’re seriously good at this.”
I lean closer, whispering against her hairline. “You have no idea.”
Priscilla storms toward us, her fury barely disguised beneath brittle civility. “Kamiyah.” Her voice is acidic. “A word.”
Kamiyah’s hand freezes on my arm and I tighten my hold. “She stays.”
Carissa’s glare snaps to me. “You are crossing a line, Mr. West.”
I smile. “I built the line.”
She seethes. “This engagement—if that’s what you’re calling this stunt—is a farce.”
“On the contrary,” I say smoothly. “It’s the most sincere thing I’ve announced in years.”
Kamiyah shoots me a startled look, but I don’t break eye contact with her aunt.
Priscilla’s lips curl. “I hope you understand what you’re entangling yourself in.”
“Oh, I do,” I say. “Perfectly.”
“And you think you can protect her?”
“I know I can.”
Kamiyah inhales sharply.
Behind Priscilla, the guests erupt in a hum of whispers as they side-eye us with rapt fascination. I lower my voice so only Priscilla can hear. “Walk away, Priscilla. Before you lose more than you already have.”
Her nostrils flare. “This isn’t over.”
“It is tonight,” I say.
When she storms off, Kamiyah turns to me, awe and fear and gratitude swirling in her eyes.
“The most sincere announcement in years,” she repeats, cocking her brows.
“Yes,” I say, brushing her cheek with my thumb—barely a touch, but enough to make her inhale sharply. I meant every word.
She shakes her head slightly. “Why are you going through the trouble of helping me?”
A stream of answers burn on my tongue.
Because I can’t stand seeing you afraid.
Because I want to protect you more than I should.
Because even though I tried to forget, I’ve always wanted you.
But I only say, “Because you’re mine.”
Her pupils dilate.
The room falls away and the noise fades until it’s just her. Just her scent. Just her mouth inches from mine. Just her skin flushing under my touch. “Kamiyah,” I say, voice low and rough.
She steps closer, breath trembling and I love that she’s so consumed by the moment that she forgets where we are.
That she’s finally learning to take what she wants without permission.
It’s not the boldness I remember, but this is another step on the road to regaining her self-confidence.
I wait…wait for her to close the distance.
And then she rises onto her toes. Her lips brush mine.
Barely.
A ghost of a kiss.
Soft.
Warm.
Devastating.
The whispers grow louder and cameras snap but I barely recognize any of it. I’m too consumed and thrilled at her public show of affection. But before the kiss can deepen, she pulls back an inch, and for a brief second I see uncertainty in her eyes. “I—sorry—I”
I grip her waist, breath harsh. “Don’t apologize.”
Her hands curl into my jacket, trembling.
“Caden—”
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
She does.
And the world tilts.
The kiss is soft, slow, unbearably tender—nothing like the heat I expected. It’s almost worse. It feels like healing and breaking and drowning all at once.
When the room erupts into applause, and loud whistling rent the air, I pull back, forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard.
“Kamiyah,” I whisper, “this is going to complicate everything.”
Her voice is a shaky breath. “I know.”
Although it’s too late to turn back, I ask, “Do you still want this arrangement?” Because her aunt’s words about me manipulating her is a small seed of doubt, I want gone.
“Yes,” she whispers, without hesitation. “I want it even more now,” she says.