Chapter five

PLAY ALONG.

~ALEXANDRO'S POV ~

The call came late last night, dragging me into yet another meaningless gala. Mario's words had been clear: my presence was non-negotiable. 

A luxurious resort. A room full of ambitious elites. A night of clinking glasses and false laughter. It was the last place I wanted to be, but the stakes were too high to ignore. 

The merger hinged on this event, and if enduring a parade of shallow pleasantries was the price to pay, so be it.

I'd built my empire on sacrifices far greater than this. But the resignation didn't stop the irritation from simmering. 

That was until I saw her. 

The woman from the garden. 

She'd caught my eye earlier, strolling amidst the manicured grass like she didn't belong.

Her hazel eyes had been a storm of exhaustion and defiance, a look that lingered in my mind long after she disappeared. And now, here she was again, standing awkwardly in this sea of pretense. 

Her dress—pale lavender and poorly fitted—betrayed her. It slumped at the shoulders and sagged at the waist, as though borrowed from someone with a completely different shape.

And yet, she wore it with a kind of quiet dignity that made it impossible to look away. 

She didn't belong here. 

And yet, she was walking straight toward me. 

She approached with an air of stubbornness that didn't quite mask her nerves. There was suspense in her posture, her hands clutching the sides of her dress as if anchoring herself. 

When she stopped in front of me, her voice was steadier than I expected. 

"I need your help, just go along with this, I'll explain later, I swear," she said. 

I might have laughed if I hadn't been so intrigued. A stranger asking for help at an event like this? Either she was bold, desperate, or both. 

My gaze flickered past her to the couple lingering nearby. The man—broad-shouldered, smirking—stood with his arm draped possessively around another woman.

His fiancée, judging by the ring was flashing like a trophy. 

The way the woman in lavender stiffened told me everything I needed to know. 

"Let me guess," I said. "Your ex?" 

She didn't confirm it aloud, but her eyes darted toward him before snapping back to me. 

"I just need you to play along," she said, voice low. "Please." 

Her vulnerability hit me harder than I expected. There was a fire in her gaze, but beneath it, I saw the weight of whatever had brought her to this moment. 

I leaned in slightly, letting her scent—something faintly floral, like jasmine—drift between us. 

"If I agree," I murmured, "there will be conditions." 

*******************

After my speech, I descended the stage to polite applause that barely registered.

My eyes scanned the crowd until I found her—Lauren, as I'd learned her name was—standing stiffly amidst her ex and his fiancée. 

Her hazel eyes widened the moment she saw me approaching. I could almost see the realization settle in: she had no idea who I was until now. 

Good. 

I took my time closing the distance, watching her fidget under the weight of my gaze. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass, and her shoulders pulled back in an attempt to seem composed. 

When I reached her, I placed a hand lightly on her back. She flinched at the touch, her body going strict beneath my palm. 

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting," I said, my tone deliberately smooth. 

Her lips parted, but words didn't come right away. "Huh, yeah, right." 

Her hesitation amused me, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. 

The fiancée—polished and poised—seized the moment to interrupt. "It's such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Castello," she gushed, extending a perfectly manicured hand. "I've heard so much about you." 

I offered her a polite smile but didn't take her hand. "Charmed, I'm sure." 

Patrick—the ex—cleared his throat. "So, how did you and Lauren meet again?" His tone dripped with condescension. "If I remember correctly, she and I used to date back then." 

Lauren flushed a deep shade of pink, her posture tightening with embarrassment. 

"Patrick," she hissed under her breath, but the damage was done. 

I glanced at him, taking in the smirk he thought was clever. 

"Careful," I said, my tone sharp enough to cut through the air between us. "If you keep running your mouth, you might trip over it." 

His fiancée looked mortified, and Lauren blinked at me, wide-eyed. 

Interesting. 

Without thinking, I reached up to brush a loose strand of hair away from her face. My fingers lingered on her cheek, just long enough for her to shiver at the contact. 

"You had a piece of hair out of place," I murmured. 

Her lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. 

I allowed myself the smallest of smirks before turning to excuse myself. As I stepped away, I leaned in close enough to whisper, "Don't leave. We have much to discuss." 

I could feel her gaze follow me as I walked away. 

The rest of the night was a blur of handshakes and hollow conversations. But no matter how many faces I greeted, my attention kept drifting back to her. 

She lingered at the edge of the room, fidgeting with her glass and shifting awkwardly when someone approached.

She was so clearly out of place, yet she held her ground with a quiet defiance that intrigued me. 

I shouldn't have been so drawn to her. My life was too complicated to invite anyone new into it, especially someone who looked at me like I was her last chance. 

And yet, there was something about her. 

Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, vulnerable yet unyielding. Or maybe it was the spark of fire I'd seen earlier when she approached me with her bold proposition. 

Whatever it was, I couldn't deny it: she'd gotten under my skin. 

As the night wore on, I found excuses to stay close to her. A glance across the room. A casual brush of our arms. I told myself it was harmless, just a way to make the evening less dull. 

But deep down, I knew it was more than that. 

She'd crossed a line by dragging me into her drama, and now, I intended to make her earn every moment of my time. 

If she wanted me to play along, she'd have to follow my rules. 

And by the end of the night, she wouldn't be the only one left wanting.