The sun hadn't even fully risen over the Lagos skyline when a sharp knock echoed through the East Wing. Xavier sat up, his heart racing. The bed was too soft, the silk sheets felt like a trap, and the silence of the Vane mansion was louder than the chaos of the streets he'd left behind.
"Come in," he rasped, rubbing his face.
The door swung open, and three men in sharp, charcoal suits marched in, followed by Arthur, the butler. They were carrying racks of clothes that looked like they belonged in a museum, not a wardrobe.
"Madam Vane has a press conference at 10:00 AM," Arthur said, his voice as dry as parchment. "You will be introduced as her fiancé. The world needs to believe she fell for a man of mystery, not a man of misery. Change. Now."
For the next two hours, Xavier was poked, prodded, and measured. They stripped away his faded jacket—the last thing he had from his old life—and replaced it with a bespoke navy suit that fit him like a second skin. When he finally looked in the full-length mirror, he didn't recognize the man staring back. He looked powerful. He looked like he belonged at Seraphina's side.
"Better," a cold voice said from the doorway.
Seraphina stood there, dressed in a blood-red power suit. Her hair was pulled back so tight it looked like it hurt, and her eyes scanned him like she was inspecting a piece of furniture she'd just bought.
"You look almost human, Xavier," she murmured, stepping into the room. She reached out, her cold fingers lingering for a second as she straightened his silk tie. For a heartbeat, the air between them thickened. Xavier's breath hitched. Was this part of the act, or was the Ice Queen actually capable of a human touch?
She pulled away instantly, her face returning to stone. "Don't get ideas. This is a performance. When we step out of that car, you will hold my hand. You will smile. You will look at me like I am your entire world."
"And if I can't?" Xavier challenged, his voice low.
Seraphina leaned in, her lips inches from his ear. "Then the wire transfer to your family's bank account bounces by noon. The debt collectors will be at your mother's door by sunset. Is that enough motivation for you, 'husband'?"
She turned on her heel and walked out, the click of her heels sounding like a countdown.
Xavier looked back at the mirror. He had the suit, he had the money, and he had the girl—but as he followed her down the grand staircase, he felt like he was walking toward a firing squad.