Chapter 10
ANNIE
The elevator climbed toward Elysium’s private entrance with all the speed of a glacier, giving Valor ample time to itemize every flaw in my appearance.
“The dress is too tight across your hips.” His emerald eyes swept over me. “And that shade of red washes you out completely. You look like you’re recovering from the flu.”
I didn’t really care what he thought. The Alliance stylist had given me options and I’d chosen the red specifically because Cipher had requested blue because maybe I wanted to disappoint both men’s expectations tonight.
Besides, I’d thought I looked pretty good when I left my apartment. The red dress hugged my curves without being indecent, and the stylist had assured me it photographed well.
So much for that brilliant strategy.
“Your posture is all wrong too. You’re hunching. Shoulders back, chest out. And your hair.” Valor gestured vaguely at my head. “I specifically asked for an updo. Something elegant. This,” He waved dismissively at my loose waves. “This looks like you just rolled out of bed.”
“I spent forty minutes with the stylist and a curling iron to achieve these “just rolled out of bed” waves, thank you very much.”
Valor just narrowed his eyes.
“When the interviewer asks about our relationship,” he continued, his voice taking on that lecturing tone that made me want to push him down the elevator shaft, “let me take the lead. Just smile and nod. If she addresses you directly, keep your answers brief and flattering.”
“I’m aware of how interviews work,” I said tightly. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Yes, but it’s your first as my girlfriend. The optics are different. I’m not going to let a glorified secretary damage my brand.” He adjusted his already perfect cape. “Oh, and try not to fidget with your hands. It’s distracting.”
I took a deep breath. “Anything else?”
“Actually, yes. Your lipstick is a shade too dark for—”
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, cutting him off mid-sentence. Instantly, Valor’s entire demeanor transformed. His shoulders relaxed into that camera-ready posture, and his critical expression melted into his trademark dazzling smile.
I braced myself for whatever awaited beyond those doors. At least Cipher would get a good show when I inevitably strangled my fake boyfriend with his own cape.
The ma?tre d’ greeted us and we glided through Elysium’s main dining room, past tables where conversations paused and heads turned.
The crystal installation above cast fractured rainbows across the white tablecloths, and the soft clink of expensive silverware created a symphony of wealth and privilege.
I’d been clinging to one small hope: that we’d be tucked into one of the discreet private booths near the edges of the dining room where I could hide my humiliation behind thick curtains.
But of course that wasn’t where we’d be seated.
The ma?tre d’ led us straight to the center of the dining room, to a table so prominently positioned it might as well have had a spotlight and a neon sign reading “LOOK AT US.”
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
I scanned the room. Every eye in the place seemed fixed on us, the other Supers pretending not to stare, the wealthy couples pausing mid-conversation.
That’s when I spotted him.
Cipher sat at a corner table across the dining room. He lifted his wine glass in greeting.
I’d been half-hoping he was bluffing about the reservation. Elysium’s waiting list was legendary. People waited years for a table. But apparently being a notorious Super Villain had its perks. Or maybe he’d simply hacked their system. Both seemed equally probable where Cipher was concerned.
I suddenly had the urge to bolt. I could fake an illness, claim food poisoning from lunch, anything to escape this elaborate torture session.
Valor’s hand settled on my lower back, steering me forward.
“Cassandra!” His voice carried as we approached our table.
The interviewer rose to greet us, and I immediately understood why the PR team had chosen her.
Cassandra looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Glossy black hair, flawless makeup, and a figure that probably made Valor’s ego purr with satisfaction.
She wore a cream-colored dress that showed off her very generous curves.
Valor swept forward and kissed both her cheeks in a greeting that lasted just long enough to be inappropriate. Cassandra’s face flushed pink, and her laugh came out slightly breathless.
Oh, wonderful. She’s already half in love with him.
I settled into my chair. From this angle, I had a perfect view of Cipher’s table, which meant he had an equally perfect view of ours. The positioning felt deliberate, arranged for maximum psychological warfare.
The soft murmur of conversation and gentle classical music created an intimate atmosphere that would have been romantic under different circumstances. Instead, it felt like being trapped in a very expensive fishbowl while an apex predator circled outside.
Cassandra’s eyes kept drifting back to Valor as she arranged her recording equipment, her fingers trembling slightly.
This was going to be a long fucking night.
The sommelier appeared with a bottle of wine and poured for the table as Cassandra gave her opening question.
“And how are you finding your mentorship with Havoc?” Cassandra’s voice carried a breathless quality that suggested she was asking about something far more intimate than career development. “The public is absolutely fascinated by this passing of the torch, so to speak.”
Valor straightened in his chair, ready for the opportunity to discuss his favorite subject: himself.
“It’s been an incredible honor,” he began, his voice taking on the cadence I’d heard him use in a dozen other interviews.
“Havoc represents everything heroic about the Trueborn Super legacy. His wisdom, his experience, his unwavering commitment to justice—these are qualities I strive to embody every day.”
Oh, good. The rehearsed speech about legacy and responsibility.
The words washed over me, pleasant background noise that required no actual attention.
I’d heard variations of this speech so many times I could probably recite it myself.
Something about standing on the shoulders of giants, followed by a humble acknowledgment of the responsibility he felt to live up to Havoc’s example, then a smooth transition into his vision for the future of heroism.
I reached for my wine glass. Just a sip. Maybe two. Enough to take the edge off this surreal evening but not enough to impair my judgment.
The wine was delicious. Smooth and rich with hints of dark fruit that probably had pretentious names. I let it warm my throat while maintaining the smile I’d perfected during years of Alliance functions.
Nod. Smile. Look adoringly at Valor while he pontificated about his destiny.
“—and that’s why I believe the next generation of Heroes must embrace both tradition and innovation,” Valor continued, his hand gesturing expansively. “We can’t simply rest on the laurels of those who came before us.”
Cassandra hung on every word like he wasn’t just spouting off recycled talking points from Alliance PR.
I took another sip of wine and settled in for the long haul. If I was going to survive this evening, I’d need all the help I could get.
“Don’t you agree, Annie?”
I snapped my attention back to the table, finding both Valor and Cassandra looking at me expectantly. I had no idea what they’d been discussing.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I smiled apologetically.
Valor’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly. “I was just telling Cassandra how our connection was immediate. How we recognized something special in each other from the first moment.”
His hand slid across the table to cover mine. The gesture was smooth, natural-looking, designed to sell the illusion of romance to Cassandra.
And to anyone else who might be watching.
I glanced toward Cipher’s table and felt my stomach drop. He’d gone completely still, his wine glass frozen halfway to his lips.
“Oh. Right.” I reached for my own wine glass with my free hand. “Absolutely.”
I took a deep drink, letting the cool liquid soothe my nerves while trying to ignore the way Cipher’s mask seemed to be boring holes through our joined hands.
“And what was it about Valor that caught your attention, Annie?” Cassandra asked, though her eyes remained fixed on Valor like he was the only person in the room.
Valor’s thumb traced circles across my knuckles, the kind of absent caress lovers might share during intimate conversation. I was acutely aware of how the gesture would appear to our distant observer and resisted the urge to flinch.
“His presence is undeniable,” I said carefully, which was technically true. Valor was impossible to ignore, whether you wanted to or not.
Valor beamed, clearly interpreting my words as the compliment he believed he deserved. His hand squeezed mine gently.
I glanced back at Cipher’s table, where he sat radiating murderous intent. What the hell did he think was going to happen tonight? That Valor and I would sit at opposite ends of the table discussing mundane topics? This whole charade was specifically designed to sell our “romance” to the public.
And he’d volunteered to watch it. Insisted on it.
I wanted to march over there and smack him upside his brilliant, idiotic head. I wanted to grab him and ask what exactly he’d expected when he made reservations to watch my fake date with the most handsy narcissist in the Hero program.
Genius-level intellect, my ass.
Cipher had the emotional intelligence of a toaster sometimes. A brilliant, devastatingly handsome toaster with abandonment issues and a possessive streak.
I took another sip of wine, wondering if there was enough alcohol in the world to get me through this evening.