Gian

The event continues with its predictable rhythm of speeches, awards, and polite applause. After about an hour, I find myself needing a bathroom break.

"I'll be right back," I whisper to Gavin, reluctantly pulling away from the comfortable position we've established.

He stands automatically as I rise—a reflex so natural it seems ingrained rather than practiced. As I step out from behind the table, he subtly adjusts my shawl that had begun to slip from my shoulders.

"Want me to come with you?" he asks quietly, his eyes meeting mine.

"To the ladies' room?" I respond.

"The hallway can get crowded," he says simply, no trace of teasing in his voice. I notice how he's positioned himself slightly between me and the busier section of the room.

"I think I can manage on my own,"

He nods, but before I turn to leave, he reaches for my hand. "It'll be waiting," he says softly.

"Careful," I warn, attempting to lighten the moment that suddenly feels too real. "You're starting to sound like you actually like me."

"Perish the thought," he replies with the ghost of a smile, but his eyes never leave mine.

As I make my way across the ballroom, I feel his attention following me—not intrusive, but protective.

I notice Isabella watching from three tables away, her expression questioning. I give her a small wave, which she returns with a raised eyebrow.

The ladies' room is what you'd expect at an event like this—all marble and gold fixtures, I take my time, checking my makeup and hair in the mirror, making sure I still look perfect for my dual missions of impressing Gavin and infuriating Anikka.

Not that I care what Gavin thinks, I remind myself firmly. This is all for show.

When I finally emerge, feeling refreshed and ready for another round of socializing, I scan the ballroom for our table. At first, I don't see Gavin, which is odd since he's usually easy to spot in a crowd. Then my eyes find him—standing near one of the ornate pillars at the edge of the room.

He's not alone.

Anikka stands before him, looking up with an expression I can only describe as intimate, one perfectly manicured hand resting lightly on his forearm. They're speaking intently, their heads bent close together. From this distance, I can't make out their words, but the familiar way they're positioned speaks volumes.

What. The. Actual. Hell.

Without thinking, I duck behind a nearby floral arrangement and pull out my phone, opening the group chat with Kaia and Enzo.

Me: I went to the bathroom for FIVE MINUTES and came back to find Gavin TALKING TO ANIKKA!!!

Enzo: KALMA! Naguusap lang sila tungkol sa anak nilang tinago sayo.

Me: This is NOT funny, Enzo! They're standing SUPER close and she has her CLAWS on his arm!

Enzo: Exactly! Kase nga may anak sila.

Kaia: Lorenzo! Maybe they're just exchanging pleasantries?

Me: What kind of pleasantries require her to practically PRESS HER BOOBS against him???

Enzo: 👀 HAHHAHHAHAHHAHHAHHAH NAKAKATAWA KA ALAM MO BA YON

Me: I will murder you in your sleep.

Enzo: Sus, gusto mo lang ma-headlock ko. Kakagaling ko lang gym, 'di ako mapapahiya sayo.

Kaia: Can you hear what they're saying?

Me: SHUT UPPPP ENZO!!! This is not the time for your jokes.

Me: I'm hiding behind a giant floral arrangement like some kind of STALKER because my FAKE BOYFRIEND is having a cozy chat with his EX who THREW WINE ON ME!!

Enzo: Wala 'to. Talo agad.

Me: I hate you.

Enzo: Bilis na! Lapitan mo na sila at ipakita mo kay Anikka kung sino ang binangga nya! #IlabasAngBaril

Kaia: Or you could just be mature and wait until he comes back to ask what happened?

I stare at Kaia's suggestion for approximately two seconds before dismissing it entirely.

Mature? In this situation? Not likely.

Me: I'm going in. If I don't text back in 5 minutes, it's because I'm in jail for assault with a deadly stiletto.

Enzo: Sige lang, Gi! Ipakita mo sa kanya kung paano rumampa ang isang tunay na Laurent! Ako bahala sa piyansa mo! 👊💥

Kaia: Just remember there are photographers everywhere... 📸

Kaia's warning only registers dimly as I slip my phone back into my clutch and emerge from behind my floral hiding spot. I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and start making my way toward them with purpose.

As I approach them, I can see they're deep in conversation, their heads bent close together. Their voices are too low to hear over the orchestra and the general hum of the ballroom, but their body language is telling enough. Her expression shifts from earnest to cool in an instant.

"Speaking of..."

Gavin turns, and the relief that washes over his face is visible even from several feet away. "Gi! There you are."

"Here I am," I reply with exaggerated brightness, stepping into their little bubble of tension.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

The emphasis on the last word could cut glass. Gavin winces slightly.

"Not at all," he says smoothly, stepping away from Anikka and toward me. "Anikka was just—"

"Apologizing," she interrupts, surprising me. "For my behavior at the Raintree gala."

I blink, momentarily thrown off my righteous anger. "You were?"

"I was," she confirms, though her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It was... unbecoming."

The understatement of the century. I feel something snap inside me—the careful restraint I'd been maintaining shatters like fine crystal.

"Unbecoming?" I repeat, my voice dangerously calm. "Is that what we're calling public assault these days? And interesting that you're apologizing to Gavin, not to me. You know, the person whose dress you ruined?"

Anikka's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rise a fraction. "I was getting to that."

"Were you? Because it seemed like you were having a very intimate conversation with my date instead."

Gavin steps between us slightly. "Gi, Anikka came over specifically to apologize about what happened."

The fact that he's defending her makes my blood boil even hotter. "To me? Because I don't recall receiving an apology. Just overhearing one being delivered to you."

Anikka sighs dramatically. "I apologize, Gianna. Ruining your dress was... impulsive."

"Impulsive? Like deciding to have ice cream for breakfast, or taking a spontaneous weekend trip? Not like deliberately throwing wine on someone in public."

"Gi," Gavin says quietly, placing a gentle hand on my arm.

"It was a mistake," Anikka says, an edge creeping into her voice. "One I'm trying to take responsibility for. Though I'm beginning to question if that was wise."

"A mistake is tripping and spilling your drink. You knew exactly what you were doing."

Anikka's composure slips just slightly. "You have no idea what I know or don't know. About anything." Her eyes flick meaningfully to Gavin, then back to me.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Her eyes narrow for just a second before her society mask slips back into place. "Enjoy your evening." She turns to go, then pauses, looking back at Gavin. "Think about what I said."

And with that cryptic parting shot, she glides away, silver dress shimmering under the chandeliers.

"Did you seriously just defend her?" I round on Gavin the moment she's out of earshot.

His expression is pained. "I wasn't defending her, Gi. I was trying to defuse the situation."

"By taking her side?"

"I wasn't taking sides. I was trying to—"

"Save her from my terrible wrath?" I interrupt, my voice rising despite my best efforts. "Protect her feelings after what she did to me?"

"That's not fair," he says quietly. "You know that's not what I was doing."

"Do I? Because from where I'm standing, it looked like you were having a very cozy conversation with your ex, and then jumped to her defense the moment I called her out."

"I wasn't defending her," he insists, lowering his voice as a couple nearby glances our way. "I was trying to prevent a scene."

"What were you two talking about anyway?" I ask directly, crossing my arms. "Before I walked up?"

Gavin hesitates, just for a split second, but long enough for me to notice. "Nothing important."

Those two words—"nothing important"—land like a slap. If it was nothing important, why the secrecy? Why the hesitation?

"Nothing important," I repeat slowly. "So nothing important required you to stand that close to her? Nothing important made her put her hand on your arm? Nothing important prompted that cryptic 'think about what I said' comment?"

"Gi, you're blowing this out of proportion—"

"Am I? Because if it's nothing important, you should have no problem telling me what it was."

Gavin runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've come to recognize as his tell when he's frustrated. "It has nothing to do with us."

"Us?" I laugh without humor. "There is no 'us,' remember? This is an arrangement. A business deal. But even business partners don't keep secrets that affect the partnership."

"This doesn't affect anything," he says firmly. "It was a private conversation that has nothing to do with our situation."

"Private," I echo, feeling my anger rise another notch. "So now you're having private conversations with your ex at events where you're supposed to be my date?"

"Gi, this isn't the place," he says, glancing around at the curious onlookers pretending not to watch our increasingly heated exchange.

"You keep saying that," I say, my voice dangerously low. "But I think what you really mean is that I don't have the right to know. That whatever you and Anikka discuss is off-limits to me, even when it happens right in front of me at an event we're attending together."

"That's not what I—"

"Fine," I snap, suddenly too angry to stay here another minute. "Keep your secrets and your 'nothing important' conversations. You're good at that."

I turn on my heel, intending to make a dramatic exit. I need air, space, distance from this situation and from him. I need to think.

"Gianna, wait—" Gavin calls after me, his voice urgent but controlled.

I ignore him, pushing through the doors and stepping out onto the terrace. My heels click rapidly against the stone as I stride away from the ballroom, away from him, away from the suffocating weight of propriety and pretense. The night air cools my heated skin as I move swiftly along the garden path, not caring where it leads as long as it's away.

"Gi, please," Gavin's voice follows me, closer now. I can hear his measured footsteps behind me, keeping pace without quite catching up, as if he's giving me the space I need while still refusing to let me go entirely.

"Just leave me alone," I say without turning around, my pace quickening as I follow the winding path deeper into the garden. Artfully placed lights illuminate sculptured hedges and flowering trees, creating pools of gold and shadow. I pass a couple engaged in quiet conversation, who look up with curious expressions as I hurry by, Gavin a few steps behind.

"We need to talk about this," he says, his voice low but carrying in the quiet night.

I glance back over my shoulder without slowing. "Talk about what? How there's nothing to talk about because it's 'nothing important'?"

He's closer than I expected, his face partially shadowed but his eyes catching the garden lights. Even in the dim illumination, I can see the tension in his jaw, the careful control he's maintaining.

"That's not fair," he says, his voice soft but with an undercurrent of frustration. "If you'd just stop for a moment—"

"Why should I?" I snap, turning my head forward again and picking up my pace, nearly jogging now despite my impractical heels. "So you can give me more vague explanations and non-answers?"

I hear him sigh behind me, his footsteps quickening to match mine. "Gianna, you're being—"

"Don't tell me what I'm being," I interrupt, stealing another glance over my shoulder. He's close enough now that I can see the strain in his expression, the way he's holding himself back from simply reaching out and stopping me physically.

I turn away and continue my determined march, heading toward a stone balustrade at the far end of the terrace that overlooks the city lights. The sound of the party fades behind us, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant hum of traffic below.

"It wasn't what you think," Gavin says, his voice closer now as he gains ground. "Anikka approached me, not the other way around."

I whirl around suddenly, causing him to pull up short to avoid colliding with me. We're standing face to face now, barely a foot apart, the city lights creating a glittering backdrop behind us.

"I don't care who approached who," I say, my voice lower but intense. "I care that you were having some secret conversation with her and won't tell me what it was about."

"It wasn't secret," he insists, running a hand through his hair, eyes never leaving mine. "We were standing in the middle of the ballroom."

"With your heads close together, speaking too quietly for anyone to hear," I counter, taking a step backward. "And you still haven't told me what it was about."

"Because it doesn't matter," he says, his voice dropping lower, more earnest, though I can hear the strain beneath his measured tone. His eyes plead with me to understand.

"If it doesn't matter, why won't you tell me?" I take another step back.

"Because it's complicated and has nothing to do with tonight or with us." The words come out measured, each syllable carefully controlled, but I can hear the tension building behind them.

"There is no us!" The words escape before I can stop them, sharper than I intended.

Something flickers across his face—a flash of hurt quickly masked—before his expression softens into something almost sad.

"Right," he says quietly.

"Exactly," I say, though the word feels hollow in my mouth. I take another step backward, feeling the cool stone of the balustrade against my back. I've run out of places to retreat.

"Gi," he begins again, taking a careful step toward me. His voice gentles further, almost coaxing. "As your... partner in this arrangement, I'm asking you to please come back inside."

"Don't you dare speak to me like I'm being unreasonable," I reply, shifting to move around him, my heel catching on an uneven stone paver as I step sideways.

I feel myself pitching backward, arms flailing in an undignified attempt to regain balance. For a horrifying moment, I'm suspended in that space between stability and falling, my arms pinwheeling helplessly.

"Gi!" Gavin moves forward in an instant, reaching for me with genuine alarm in his eyes.

Time seems to slow as I begin to fall. My mind calculates the inevitable trajectory—my back hitting the hard stone, my dress tearing, my dignity shattered. In that split second, I see fear flash across Gavin's face as he stretches toward me.

His fingers catch my wrist, then my waist as he pulls me toward him, trying to stabilize me. But the momentum of my stumble combined with my instinctive jerk away from the edge throws us off balance together. I crash against his chest as he steps backward to brace himself, his foot landing on the hem of my dress.

He stumbles, still holding me, and we both tumble sideways. Gavin twists his body mid-fall, one arm cradling my head protectively as we hit the stone terrace. He takes the brunt of the impact on his shoulder and side, rolling slightly to cushion me from the fall.

The collision leaves us tangled together, breathless and disoriented. I find myself half on top of him, half beside him, my face hovering just inches from his. One of his arms is still wrapped around me, while his other hand has somehow ended up cupping my cheek, perhaps in his attempt to protect my head during the fall.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, his breath warm against my lips, all traces of our argument instantly forgotten in his worry for my safety.

I try to respond, but as I shift to push myself up, my hand slips on the smooth stone. I lose my balance again, pitching forward at the same moment Gavin lifts his head in concern.

Our lips collide

For a fraction of a second, it's just the awkward collision of mouths in the chaos of our fall.

But then...

Time seems to stop. My initial impulse to pull away fades as quickly as it comes. Beneath me, I feel Gavin go completely still, his body tense with surprise. Our eyes lock, wide with shock, our lips still pressed together in what can barely be called a kiss.

A heartbeat passes.

A sudden burst of light pulls me back to reality. Then another. And another.

Camera flashes.

I blink, dazed, as the world comes rushing back—the murmur of voices, the sound of shoes on stone, the cool night air on my heated skin. And most alarming of all, the unmistakable click and whir of multiple camera shutters.

Damn.