Chapter 30 Engagement party
The venue shimmered under soft afternoon light, glass panels reflecting luxury and anticipation. Crystal chandeliers were already glowing inside, while outside, a line of guests lingered—some chatting quietly, others deliberately waiting.
Waiting for her.
Cameras flashed even before the sound of the engine fully faded.
A sleek black Lamborghini rolled to a smooth stop right at the edge of the red carpet. The murmurs grew louder, excitement rippling through the crowd like electricity. Reporters raised their microphones instinctively, already calling her name.
The chauffeur stepped out first, dressed in crisp black, and walked around to the passenger side facing the carpet. He opened the door.
Elena stepped out.
Time seemed to stall.
She wore a deep red gown that hugged her figure with elegant precision. The fabric flowed like liquid silk, fitted at the waist and cascading effortlessly to the floor. The neckline was heart-shaped, delicately beaded with fine crystals that caught the light with every breath she took. The gown exposed her shoulders and a subtle hint of the upper curve of her chest—tasteful, confident, devastatingly beautiful.
Her hair fell in soft waves down her back, perfectly styled, while her makeup was refined and glowing, enhancing her natural elegance rather than overpowering it.
Brielle stepped out behind her, equally stunning, but even she seemed to fade slightly beside Elena’s presence.
The cameras erupted.
“Elena! Over here!”
“How does it feel to be engaged?”
“Are you nervous about tonight?”
“Elena, look this way!”
Flashes burst in rapid succession as Elena lifted her chin and smiled—composed, graceful, every inch the woman the world expected her to be. She didn’t answer the questions, only offered a polite nod, her smile unwavering as she walked the carpet with Brielle by her side.
At the entrance, her parents were waiting.
Vivienne’s eyes softened the moment she saw her daughter. She stepped forward and pulled Elena into a warm embrace, careful not to crease the dress she had personally approved days earlier.
“You look beautiful,” her mother whispered, pride thick in her voice.
Her father followed, kissing Elena’s forehead gently. “Our girl,” he said with a smile that carried both love and relief.
Elena hugged them both, the noise around her momentarily fading as she grounded herself in their presence.
Then, together, they turned and walked into the hall.
Behind them, security immediately blocked the reporters, the doors closing on the flashes and questions, sealing the outside world away.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted.
Soft music floated through the grand hall. Guests mingled beneath cascading lights, champagne glasses clinked, and the air buzzed with quiet luxury and expectation.
Across the room, Jaxon stood with a group of business associates, his posture relaxed, his expression composed—until he turned slightly.
And saw her.
The conversation around him blurred into nothing.
Elena.
In red.
Walking into the hall like she belonged at the center of everything.
His gaze lingered longer than he intended, something tightening in his chest before he could stop it.
And for the first time that evening, the engagement stopped feeling like pretence.
Jaxon had barely realized he’d gone quiet until his father’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation.
“Jaxon.”
He turned, startled, and found his father standing beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp with quiet intent. His gaze flicked once—brief, knowing—toward the direction Jaxon had been staring.
“You’ve been zoning out,” his father said mildly. “Come. I want you to meet someone.”
Before Jaxon could protest or glance back again at Elena, his father gently but firmly steered him away from the group of executives he’d been speaking with. Jaxon allowed himself to be led, though his attention kept drifting back to the flash of red across the room—the way Elena’s laughter rose softly as she spoke, the effortless grace with which she moved among people who adored her.
\---
On the other side of the hall, Elena walked beside Jaxon’s mother, her arm lightly linked through hers.
“This is Elena,” Mrs. Wentworth said proudly, pausing in front of a small circle of women. “My future daughter-in-law.”
The women smiled warmly, their eyes lighting up with interest.
“Oh, she’s beautiful,” one of them said, reaching out to clasp Elena’s hand. “You must be the one we’ve heard so much about.”
Elena smiled politely, her posture composed, even as the weight of the room pressed in around her.
Jaxon’s mother continued, introducing Elena to friends from church, women from charity boards, and members of various social groups. Each greeting came with gentle questions, compliments, and approving nods.
“You have such elegance,” another woman said. “And your work—my daughter won’t stop talking about your designs.”
Elena thanked her softly, her voice steady, though her heart beat faster with every passing moment. She played her role perfectly—graceful, warm, engaged—no one would ever guess how much she wished the evening were already over.
\---
At the buffet table, Brielle stared down at the impressive spread like it was a personal challenge.
“Wow,” she muttered. “This is dangerous.”
“Hungry already?” Damon’s voice came from beside her.
She turned, surprised, then laughed. “Someone has to eat all this food. It would be rude not to.”
Damon chuckled, reaching for a plate. “I like the way you think.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, casually filling their plates, the tension of the past days easing just a little in the normalcy of the moment.
“I can’t believe all this,” Brielle said quietly, glancing around the hall. “After everything… they pulled this off perfectly.”
Damon nodded. “Too perfectly, if you ask me.”
She looked at him, curious, but he softened his tone with a half-smile. “Still. Tonight’s about celebrating. At least on the surface.”
Brielle raised her glass slightly. “To surviving chaos.”
Damon clinked his against hers. “And pretending everything’s fine.”
They laughed, an unspoken understanding passing between them as the music swelled and the room buzzed with polished smiles and whispered conversations.
\---
Across the hall, Elena paused for a moment, her eyes instinctively searching the crowd.
And then she saw him.
Jaxon stood near the far end of the room, his back half-turned as he listened to his father speak to another guest. Even from a distance, she felt it—that familiar pull, the unspoken awareness that always seemed to exist between them.
Their eyes met.
Just for a second.
Something unreadable flickered across Jaxon’s face before he looked away, straightening his jacket as his father continued speaking. Elena exhaled slowly, pressing a calm smile back into place as another guest addressed her.
The night was only beginning.
And beneath the elegance, the laughter, and the carefully rehearsed affection, too many truths remained dangerously close to the surface.
Elena had just begun to relax into the rhythm of polite smiles and practiced laughter when the atmosphere shifted.
She felt it before she saw it—the subtle tightening in her chest, the way the air seemed to grow heavier. Then her eyes lifted toward the entrance.
Caleb.
He walked in with the kind of confidence that always preceded trouble, dressed immaculately in a charcoal suit, his hand resting possessively on Maya’s arm. Maya leaned into him as though she belonged there, her smile sharp and deliberate, her gaze sweeping the room like she was daring anyone to question her presence.
Elena’s fingers curled slightly at her side.
So they really came.
Without another word to the women she’d been speaking with, she excused herself smoothly, her voice calm, her posture flawless. No one would guess that her pulse had begun to race as she turned toward the bar.
She reached for a glass of champagne, the cool stem steadying her fingers. The bubbles rose too quickly, too loudly. She took a slow sip, willing herself to breathe.
“Are you alright?”
Jaxon’s voice came softly beside her, low enough that only she could hear. She hadn’t seen him approach, but somehow she’d known he would.
She turned her head slightly to look at him. His expression was controlled, but his eyes had already followed hers toward the entrance, toward Caleb and Maya.
“Yeah,” she replied calmly. “I’m fine.”
She lifted the glass again, taking another measured sip. Jaxon reached for a champagne flute beside hers, his movements deliberate.
“If you’re not,” he said quietly, “you can say so. We can cancel this. No explanations needed.”
That did it.
Elena let out a soft laugh—not amused, not warm, but sharp around the edges. She raised an eyebrow and turned fully to face him now.
“Mr. Wentworth,” she said lightly, almost teasing, though her eyes held something firmer, “let’s get this done with.”
Her lips curved into a polite smile as she added, “The contract won’t last forever.”
For a moment, something unreadable flickered across Jaxon’s face—surprise, perhaps, or something far more dangerous. But before he could respond, Elena had already stepped away, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she returned to the group of women waiting for her.
Her shoulders were straight. Her smile was perfect.
From across the room, Jaxon watched her go, champagne untouched in his hand, fully aware that the night had just taken a turn—and that whatever was growing between them, pretence or not, was becoming harder to control.