Chapter 25 #2
Charles whipped around to face Valor, his eyes wide. The cameras surrounding the donor terrace were already flashing, capturing the exact moment the trap snapped shut.
My stomach twisted. Cipher had cornered Valor using nothing but a checkbook. A Hero could never reject what was probably a multi-million dollar donation for sick children without becoming tomorrow’s front-page monster. He was trapped.
Valor’s jaw tightened, the muscle twitching beneath his perfect skin. I could almost see him weighing his jealousy against potential damage to his image if he caused a scene with a prominent donor.
Please don’t do anything stupid. For once in your narcissistic life, just play nice.
Valor’s smile tightened into something that didn’t reach his eyes.
“We would be honored, Mr. Smith,” Valor said.
Then Valor turned to me. His hand moved from my waist, fingers clamping around my jaw and I froze. The grip was tight enough to grind my teeth together as he pulled me forward, crushing his mouth against mine.
The cameras exploded in a blinding strobe of white light, capturing the assault from every angle. I just stood there and took the violation because I was on camera and I was bound to maintain the charade.
He pressed harder, forcing my lips to part against the hard edge of his teeth.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. My hands hung uselessly at my sides as panic flooded my system.
Valor was kissing me. In public. In front of everyone. In front of Cipher. This wasn’t part of the agreement.
Oh god.
When he finally pulled back, he stroked his thumb over my bruised bottom lip in a sickening show of ownership. “Don’t keep her too long, Mr. Smith.”
I couldn’t look at Cipher. Couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face. My cheeks burned with humiliation and anger as Valor’s hands finally left my body.
Say something. Do something. Move.
But I remained frozen, trapped between my professional obligations and the betrayal I’d just committed. The engagement was fake, but that kiss had been real.
My eyes finally found Cipher’s. The silver had gone flat.
I was staring into a void ready to devour anything and everyone in its path.
My chest caved in as I watched the collapse of my entire universe in his dead gaze.
His expression remained perfectly controlled, a terrifying mask of absolute nothingness.
“Shall we?” Cipher extended his hand again, his voice so controlled it was terrifying.
I placed my trembling fingers in his and his grip tightened almost painfully as he led me away from Valor and Charles.
“Cipher—” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“Not here.” His Scottish accent had thickened to the point the words were barely recognizable.
As we reached the dance floor, he turned to face me, his touch burning through the fabric of my dress as he slid one hand to my waist while the other still gripped mine.
The orchestra swelled into a slow, sweeping waltz and Cipher pulled me flush against his chest. To the rest of the room, we presented a perfect picture of high-society elegance—the generous billionaire and the ecstatic bride-to-be gliding beneath the shifting lights of the pavilion.
The psychological torture began the second we stepped in time with the music.
“Tell me, Ms. Bishop,” Cipher murmured. His voice dropped into a soft, conversational purr meant only for my ears. The Scottish lilt hardened the consonants, making every syllable a weapon. “How exactly does he taste?”
My stomach heaved and I stared at the knot of his silk tie, refusing to meet his eyes. “Cipher, don’t.”
I didn’t bother to disguise the hurt that must have been written across my face. Let everyone wonder why the billionaire was making Valor’s fiancée look like she’d been slapped. I didn’t care anymore.
“I asked a question.” His fingers pressed into the bare skin of my back, guiding me through a seamless turn. “Mint? Egotism? Or just desperation?”
“Stop.”
“Have you set a date?” He spun me out and pulled me right back into his chest. “A spring wedding, perhaps? The weather in Chroma Bay is lovely in May. Or will you rush it? Capitalize on the media frenzy before the public loses interest?”
“Please stop.”
“Why?” He tilted his head. “All brides-to-be love talking about their wedding details, Ms. Bishop. Indulge me. Where will you register? What colors will the bridesmaids wear? White, dark blue, and gold to match his ridiculous suit?”
My throat closed. Every cruel word chipped away at the foundation we had started rebuilding. We were breaking. He was severing the tether between us right here on the dance floor, and I had no way to stop him.
“It’s fake,” I choked out, my voice trembling.
“The kiss appeared incredibly real.” His thumb stroked my spine, a mockery of comfort. “Construct the future for me, Ms. Bishop. Tell me about the house you’ll buy together. Tell me how many photogenic children you’ll give him. Describe the perfect little heroic life you are building.”
Nausea clawed up my throat. I couldn’t breathe. The pavilion walls were shrinking, the shifting blue light suffocating me. The Alliance had forced this on me, but Cipher was the one holding the blade to my throat.
“Mr. Smith, please.”
“Ah. Mr. Smith now.” His chuckle was dark, devoid of any warmth. “Very professional, Ms. Bishop. You’re adapting beautifully to your new role.”
I barely held the tears back as he was destroying me. I couldn’t take another second of his perfectly modulated, agonizing cruelty. The pain in my chest mutated into a sudden, blinding flash of fury.
I snapped.
I wrenched my hand upward, aiming a vicious slap directly at his arrogant cheek.
Cipher didn’t even blink. He caught my wrist in mid-air, his fingers clamping down over my bones with bruising, inescapable force. He smoothly transitioned the block into a dramatic dip, bending me backward over his arm.
To the donors watching, it was a breathtaking piece of choreography. To me, it was captivity. He held me suspended over the floor, completely at his mercy.
“Careful,” he whispered. “It would look terribly inappropriate for the happy bride to strike a donor, Ms. Bishop. We must consider the optics.”
We moved across the floor in perfect rhythm, his body guiding mine. I could feel myself shaking, fine tremors running through my limbs despite my best efforts to stop them.
“Why did you even come here tonight?”
His hand tightened on my waist, fingers digging in just shy of painful. “I came for you. But clearly, I came for nothing.”
I turned my face away, unable to bear the coldness in his eyes, but a traitorous tear escaped despite my best efforts. Before anyone could notice, Cipher spun us in a smooth movement, positioning himself between me and the crowd.
I swiped at the tear quickly, mortified. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He didn’t respond. Just kept moving us across the floor, his body rigid against mine. The silence between us stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Say something. Anything.
“I couldn’t make a scene,” I tried again, desperation creeping into my voice. “The Alliance PR team—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the Alliance PR team.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Not angry anymore. Just empty. “And I certainly don’t give a fuck about your excuses.”
The music swelled around us. Couples swayed nearby, lost in each other’s eyes while we danced on the edge of a knife.
“Cipher, please...”
“Please what, Annie?” His voice dropped lower, cruel in its softness. “Please understand why you let another man kiss you? Please pretend I don’t want to rip his throat out every time he touches you?”
The song was ending and our time running out. I panicked as I realized this might be the last time I’d ever be in his arms. The coldness in his eyes, the rigid set of his shoulders, this was someone who was done with me and not the man who’d said he loved me.
The song ended, the final notes hanging in the air between us. Cipher’s hand released my waist but kept hold of my fingers for one beat too long.
“Enjoy your engagement, Ms. Bishop,” he said. “You deserve it.”
He released me, stepping back with cold formality.
I opened my mouth, to say something—anything—that would erase the hurt in his eyes that he was trying so hard to hide behind anger.
But before I could speak, a woman appeared at his side. Tall, willowy, with cascading dark hair and a dress that looked painted onto her curves.
“Thomas,” she purred. “I’ve been hoping to catch you.”
The transformation was immediate. Cipher’s entire demeanor shifted, his mouth curving into that devastating smile that made my heart ache. The one he gave me.
“Ms. Winters,” he replied, his accent wrapping around her name like a caress. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”
She laughed, the sound musical. “I was hoping you might spare me a dance? Unless you’re otherwise engaged?”
Her eyes barely flicked to me dismissively before returning to Cipher.
“I would be delighted.” Cipher took her hand, bringing it to his lips just as he had done with mine.
I stood frozen as he led her onto the dance floor, his hand settling at the small of her back. She leaned into him, whispering something that made him laugh.
The knife that had been twisting in my gut since Valor’s kiss plunged deeper.
I returned to Valor. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against him.
“Have a nice dance with the rich asshole?” His voice dripped with condescension.
“It was fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine.