Doris Elizabeth Corday

My mouth hung open, words dying on my tongue as I stared at Mr. Illion.

Fiancée?

Had I misheard him?

Alistair's gaze sharpened, shifting between us. His smile widened, smooth and practiced, as if he already knew every secret I'd ever tried to keep.

"Fiancée, you say? Well, isn't that a surprise."

"I've been keeping the matter private," Mr. Illion dismissed. "Doris and I don't like our relationship being up for public opinion."

My head cocked back as though I'd been punched, and my initial surprise was instantly replaced by a grating feeling at the back of my head.

He did not just call me by my first name...

"Rob darling is just shy," I spoke up, tightening my hold on his arm as I leaned into him. I could feel him stiffen at my sudden shift, but I wouldn't let him get away. "I'm no one important and I think he was worried what people would say if they heard someone like me managed to catch a guy like him. They might call him foolish."

Mr. Illion smiled at me in that way I knew he was warning me.

"Some might call Doris a scheming woman. But I know she's just... too simple for such a grand plan. It must be love."

I batted my lashes up at him.

You calling me an idiot, hmm?

Only if you push your luck here, his smile seemed to say.

Call me Doris again and I'll push more than my luck—

"How fascinating," Alistair mused, his gaze lingering on me a fraction too long. "And here I thought Rob was married to his work. Tell me, Miss... Doris, was it? How did you meet?"

I was about to curse at him for calling me Doris, but Mr. Illion stepped in smoothly.

"We met at a work party when she worked as a caterer. It's a rather embarrassingly cliché encounter."

"I just stole his attention," I smirked at him. "It was disappointingly easy."

"Mmmm, but I didn't let you get away."

"Perhaps you knew, I'd be the best you could ever get," I shrugged.

"Perhaps," Mr. Illion raised a brow.

Alistair suddenly chuckled and my skin crawled. Realizing the gravity of the situation again, I kept a firm eye on the silver man, praying he'd lose interest already.

He reached for my hand, and I accidentally flinched before I let his ringed fingers grasp mine. Silver gleamed as he brought it to his lips, his eyes staying on me the whole time.

"A pleasure to meet you, Doris," he said, brushing his lips against my knuckles. The gesture was old-fashioned, almost gentlemanly, but his lips were ice against my skin.

"I look forward to seeing you both at the gala," he added, his eyes flicking to Mr. Illion before settling back on me. "You will be there, won't you?"

"Of course," Mr. Illion answered in my place.

"Wonderful," Alistair said, releasing my hand with a lingering smile. "Until then."

He turned and walked away, his posture relaxed, but I couldn't shake the suffocating tension he left in his wake. His security tailed after him and even after he had disappeared, I stayed frozen in place.

Mr. Illion's hand pressed against my back, steering me toward the elevator. I barely registered the walk, my mind racing as I replayed the encounter over and over.

The moment the suite door clicked shut behind us, I exhaled shakily, pacing to the window and staring out at nothing.

"Fiancée?" I said finally, spinning to face Mr. Illion. "Are you kidding me?"

"It was necessary."

"Necessary?" My voice rose. "To who?"

"To you," he said, pinning me with that impenetrable gaze. "Do you think he would've let you walk away if he thought you were unimportant?"

I froze.

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen him whisk away a lot of women. He would've tried with you too. Announcing you as my fiancée serves as both protection and bait."

"How does that work?"

Mr. Illion loosened his necktie and took off his cufflinks as he approached the living room.

"You're important enough now so he can't just snatch you up out of nowhere. But this will also make him interested. If he's interested, he will try to get closer to you and it'll present you with an opportunity to steal his card."

My mouth went slack at this man's audacity.

"We already decided I won't steal from him! I refuse to! He gives me the creeps, I tell you."

"I'm not telling you to steal from him. I'm just saying that the opportunity could be there. We'll still try to target Jack at the gala—"

"I told you I am not going to that gala!" I insisted.

"You are."

"No," I shot back. "I don't care what power play you're trying to make. I'm not going to parade myself in front of that man just because you think it's the best strategy. You don't get to decide that for me."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he walked over.

"You're being irrational."

"I'm being rational!" I snapped, taking a step toward him. "He's dangerous, Rob. I could feel it. And you just threw me to the wolves without warning, without a plan—"

"I always have a plan," he cut in. "You're just too stubborn to see it."

"Your plan? Your plan is to use me as bait! To wave me in front of Alistair like a shiny toy and hope he doesn't break me in half!" My voice rose, and I was too angry to care. "What happens if he sees through this act? What happens when he decides I'm more fun dead than alive?"

Mr. Illion's gaze darkened, the calm façade cracking.

"That won't happen."

"You don't know that!" I pushed. "You're gambling with my life. Again! Every day it's like this!"

"You don't understand."

"Then make me understand!" I was shouting now, my hands trembling as I threw them up in frustration. "Because all I see is a man so consumed by control that he doesn't care who gets hurt in the process. You don't care about me. You care about winning. Admit it!"

Something snapped in him then.

Before I could register what was happening, he closed the distance between us in a single, furious stride. His hands gripped my arms, pulling me close as his eyes burned into mine.

"You think it's that simple?" he demanded.

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words never came.

His lips crashed against mine, silencing every thought, every protest. It wasn't gentle. It was a raw eruption of all the tension that had been building between us. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me against him with a desperation that sent my heart racing.

I didn't want to kiss him back. I wanted to stay angry, to fight. But the moment his lips moved against mine, everything else fell away. My hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching at him as though he was the only thing keeping me grounded.

He deepened the kiss, his grip tightening as his fingers tangled in my hair. The world narrowed to just him. The way he seemed to pour every unspoken word into that kiss. It was overwhelming, suffocating.

And very much out of control.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, he tore himself away.

We were both breathing heavily, his forehead resting against mine as he closed his eyes.

"I... That was..."

For the first time, Mr. Illion couldn't gather his words.

It unnerved me more than it did him, and I pulled away carefully.

"That was just part of your weird intimacy test, right?" I asked for both our sakes.

Mr. Illion's expression cleared before he schooled it back into neutrality.

"Yes. Exactly."

He stepped back, running a hand through his black hair, his expression a mixture of regret and something I couldn't quite place.

"I... I'll start on dinner," he said, heading toward the kitchen.

I crossed my arms as I watched him.

"Whatever just happened, I'm still not going to the gala," I insisted.

"Yes," he said, his tone final. "You are."

***

The next morning, the tension between Mr. Illion and me was impossible to ignore. He sat beside me in our usual SUV, his gaze fixed on the skyline as it streaked past. I refused to look at him either, my arms crossed over my chest as if that could block out the memory of last night.

Secretary Coy sat across from us, his ever-sharp eyes darting between Mr. Illion and me. It didn't take a genius to notice the charged atmosphere.

Coy cleared his throat.

"I trust the preparations for the gala are on track?"

"I'm not going," I said abruptly.

Coy raised a brow, looking genuinely surprised.

"Not going?"

Mr. Illion finally tore his gaze from the window, his eyes locking onto me with irritation.

"She'll be there."

"No, I won't," I said firmly. "I'm not your sacrificial lamb for Alistair to devour."

Coy leaned back slightly, his gaze behind his glasses bouncing between us like he was watching a game of chess.

"This is... unexpected."

Mr. Illion's jaw tightened, his composure cracking just slightly.

"Miss Corday is handling her role adequately."

"Her role?" Coy repeated, his tone laced with skepticism.

"Acting as my fiancée," Mr. Illion said flatly as if that explained everything.

The secretary's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I wasn't aware the two of you were spending so much time together solely for appearances."

I coughed just as Mr. Illion shifted his weight.

After the rest of our awkward journey, the car pulled in front of Mr. Illion's building. I barely had time to step out before the flash of cameras blinded me. I froze, my stomach tightening as the sound of shutters snapping echoed around me. The paparazzi were everywhere, shouting questions I didn't have the answers to.

"Is this your new fiancée, Rob?"

"When's the wedding?"

"Doris, how does it feel to be with a billionaire?"

The questions came at me like bullets, rapid and unrelenting.

I stumbled back, instinctively trying to shield myself from the barrage of questions, but then I looked at Mr. Illion. He was walking calmly beside me, unfazed, eyes ahead. And a slight smirk playing on his lips.

He was enjoying this...

The bastard planned it!

The realization hit me like a slap across the face. He wanted the media to see us as a couple. Wanted to fuel the story. Wanted to use me as part of his grand scheme. My chest tightened in anger.

"Do I look like your little show monkey?" I grumbled at him through a tight smile as we made our way inside.

He glanced at me briefly, his expression still cool.

"It's part of the plan, Miss Corday. The more the media believes, the better it works for us."

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to lash out.

When we finally reached the building's lobby, the paparazzi backed off, their cameras still clicking as security blocked their way.

The situation left me seething, however. I didn't say anything more, just stormed past Rob and into the elevator. The doors closed with a soft hiss, cutting off the noise from below, but the tension in the air was suffocating.

I sent him one last venomous glare, before heading for my room.

***

For the next few days, I mostly kept to myself. Mr. Illion tried to talk to me, tried to drag me out to dinners which I knew would only serve as publicity stunts.

But I refused.

I wasn't some show for the media to ogle at, and I certainly wasn't going to throw my life away as bait at Alistair's gala. I stayed in my room most of the time, either napping or taking very, very long baths.

The weekend came, and I was still angry, still simmering over the way Mr. Illion had manipulated me. I wasn't ready to forgive him, not yet. And more than that, I wasn't ready to forgive myself either.

How could I have kissed him back so easily?

I wanted to tear my hair out just thinking about it.

The doorbell rang suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts. I figured it was either Coy or Aurelia, so I got up to answer them.

But when I did, I was stunned.

Standing there were two women instead. Both of them were striking, with short black hair, sun-kissed skin, and dark eyes, their features sharp and familiar. The dark lashes were too similar to Mr. Illion, making their resemblance unmistakable.

The first woman, older but stunning in her maturity, smiled warmly at me.

"You must be Doris!"

She was much taller and threw her arms around me in the most comforting hug I had ever felt.

"Uhm. Sorry to be rude, but uh, who may you be?"

She pulled back with mock offence, her smile breaking through.

"Rob didn't show any pictures of me?" she asked. "Oh, that son of mine... I bet he hasn't even mentioned his mother to his fiancée."

My whole body turned beet red while my limbs went stiff as a board.

"Y-you're Rob's mother? I d-didn't know you would be here... Rob's not—"

"Home right now. Yes, yes," she dismissed me. "I came to visit you. I have no doubt that ungrateful little boy would shoo me away if he was here," she grumbled.

I stood there, still frozen.

Rob's mother... She was nothing like I had imagined. Her presence was warm, loving, like someone who had known me for a long time.

"And this," she continued, stepping aside to reveal the second woman, "is Claire. Rob's older sister. She's been the most excited to meet you."

Claire's smile was just as bright.

"It's so nice to meet you! Rob's never mentioned any girlfriends, so we hopped on a plane the second we heard of a fiancée. I've been dying to meet a woman that could whip my brother in shape." She winked at me, and I couldn't help but laugh nervously.

I stepped aside, still in a daze, and motioned for them to enter.

"Uh, please, come in. Can I offer you something? Coffee, maybe?"

The two women exchanged a look before Rob's mother raised an eyebrow.

"Coffee? In Rob's house? He used to throw up at just the smell of it."

I paused.

"What? He... What?"

The woman laughed lightly as we entered the kitchen, her delicate diamond earrings glinting in the soft light.

"It was quite the trouble as his father can't wake up without a cup. How on earth do you have a coffee machine in here?"

"I... I didn't know. He let me have one," I said, still trying to fully grasp it. "I didn't think—"

"Well, that's a first," Claire said with a laugh. "I knew we'd find a surprise if we came."

I felt a pang of confusion. Why would Rob let me have a coffee machine if he hated coffee that much? It didn't make sense. It was just one more thing that didn't add up about him.

"Would you like some?" I offered them both, trying to shake off the odd feeling in my chest.

"Yes, please," Rob's mother said, settling down on the couch, while Claire took a seat beside her.

I quickly set about making coffee, trying to process the whirlwind of revelations. Rob's family was warm, open, and chatty — a stark contrast to the man himself.

"Oh, look! He still has your tree," the older lady gushed at the orange tree centered beneath the skylight.

"He better," Claire grinned. "I told him I'd make him work the farm if it died. And you know how much Rob hates going out in the dirt..."

They laughed at some unspoken joke just as I walked in and placed the steaming mugs on the table.

"Here you go, Missus Illion," I said.

"You can call me Erika," she smiled.

"Oh." My face flushed. "Uhm, and uh, I usually go by Beth," I replied. "Doris is... too formal."

"Beth, then," Erika said warmly. "It suits you."

Claire leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.

"So, Beth, how do you manage Rob's quirks? The man's a germaphobe to a fault. And I've never seen him go near people. Even around us he can be reserved."

I blinked, unsure how to respond.

"Well, he's... particular, I guess. I didn't realize it was that serious..."

Erika chuckled.

"Serious? Oh, dear, you don't know the half of it. When he was a boy, he'd disinfect his pencils before using them."

Claire burst out laughing.

"And do you remember when he made his entire class do shoe checks before walking into his birthday party?"

"Oh, I remember," Erika said, rolling her eyes fondly. "Never a dull day with him... On his first day of preschool, he kept correcting his teacher's speech. She was sobbing when she called me!"

I couldn't help but laugh, picturing a young, overly serious Rob terrorizing his poor teacher.

"He's always been... like that?"

Before they could respond, the door to the penthouse swung open. I went stiff as though I was caught in some act and turned just as Rob stepped inside. His usual composed expression faltered for a fraction of a second when he saw the three of us sitting together.

"Mother. Claire," he said slowly. His sharp gaze flicked to me, then back to them. "What are you doing here?"