Chapter 24 The Pretense
The afternoon dragged like an eternity. I tried to bury myself in lecture notes and online assignments, but every few minutes my mind wandered, to Alexander’s possessive kiss on the balcony, to the promise of tonight, to the way his jealousy had scorched through the bond at breakfast.
By late afternoon the heightened senses had settled into a background hum, but the anticipation was its own kind of torment.
Dinner was announced at seven-thirty, formal as always in the main dining room with its long mahogany table, crystal chandeliers, and flickering candelabras. I chose a simple black dress that skimmed my figure and left my hair down, knowing Alexander liked it that way. When I entered, both men were already seated, Ben in his usual spot, Alexander at the head, looking devastating in a black shirt open at the throat.
Ben stood immediately, pulling out my chair with exaggerated courtesy.
“There’s my beautiful wife,” he said loudly, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before I could dodge. His cologne was overpowering; I had to fight not to recoil.
Alexander’s eyes tracked the gesture, dark and unreadable. The bond flared, sharp, hot jealousy that made my pulse stutter.
We sat.
The first course, cream of asparagus soup, was served, and Ben launched into husbandly performance round two.
He reached for my hand across the tablecloth, lacing our fingers. “How was your day, darling? You were studying hard, I hope.”
I forced a neutral smile. “Productive. Caught up on some reading.”
“Good, good.” He released my hand only to serve me again, ladling extra soup into my bowl, adding a second roll, placing slices of rare roast beef on my plate the moment the main course arrived. “Can’t have you wasting away.”
Alexander sipped his wine, expression coolly indifferent, but I felt the storm beneath. His free hand rested on the table, fingers curled tightly around the stem of his glass.
Ben, emboldened, kept talking. “I had a productive day myself. Closed a deal on that property in the financial district, the one the board’s been watching. Should bring in solid returns next quarter.” He looked pointedly at Alexander. “Once I’m officially on the board, of course, I’ll be able to contribute even more directly.”
Alexander’s reply was mild, almost bored. “Congratulations. The board will review all contributions in due course.”
Ben’s jaw tightened, but he covered it with another doting gesture, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered too long.
“Maddie was telling me she loves the gardens here. Maybe tomorrow we can take a walk together, just the two of us.”
I nearly choked on my wine. Alexander’s indifference cracked for a fraction of a second, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
“That sounds lovely,” I managed, though the words tasted like ash.
The rest of the meal continued in the same vein: Ben serving me, touching my hand or arm at every opportunity, recounting his day in tedious detail while Alexander responded with cool, minimal acknowledgments. Beneath the table, I felt Alexander’s foot brush mine once, deliberate, grounding. A silent reminder: This is pretend. I’m here.
By the time dessert, tiramisu, was cleared, I was ready to scream. Ben dabbed at my mouth with his napkin unasked, and I caught the flash of raw possessiveness in Alexander’s eyes before he masked it again.
When the meal ended, I stood quickly. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll head up.”
Ben rose too, offering his arm with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll walk you, darling. It’s only proper.”
My stomach dropped. Alexander remained seated, watching us with that same indifferent mask, but the bond screamed with tension.
In the hallway, Ben kept his voice low.
“I’m coming in for a while. We need to keep up appearances. I’ll leave once the old man is asleep.”
I wanted to argue, but the risk of being overheard stopped me. We climbed the stairs in silence, his hand at the small of my back the entire way. When we reached my door, I let us in and closed it behind us with a soft click.
The room felt smaller with him in it. He didn’t sit on the bed, thank God, but took the armchair by the window, stretching out as if he owned the place.
“I’ll give it an hour,” he said, checking his watch. “Make sure Alexander thinks we’re… consummating things.” He smirked. “Relax, Maddie. I’m not going to touch you. This is purely for show.”
I folded my arms, leaning against the dresser. “This is ridiculous, Ben. Alexander isn’t stupid.”
“Exactly why we have to sell it.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling idly. “One year. Then we’re free, I get my money, you get yours. Just play along.”
I turned away, pretending to prepare for bed, brushing my hair, changing into pajamas in the bathroom. When I emerged in a modest silk set, he barely glanced up.