Fake Date, Real Fate
Chapter 160: Unveiling Us

Chapter 160: Unveiling Us

"They are very dramatic today," I murmured after Aria and Leo left.

"Very sure they missed their calling in theater." He leaned down and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead. "How do you feel?"

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. "Well, I feel about as good as someone hooked up to an IV drip can feel." I looked up at him, eyes searching. "You?"

"Alive." He said it like it meant more.

He sat beside me, eyes still scanning my face as if committing every freckle to memory. Then, as if remembering something, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope.

"Speaking of things you’re not expecting," he said, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. "The gala’s in a week."

I blinked. "Wait—what? A week? Time flew that fast?"

He chuckled, the sound warm, like something low and pleasant. "Time flies when you’re unconscious and connected to IV’s."

"Hey," I pouted. "It’s not like I planned a hospital stay right before a major social event."

"Still inconvenient," he murmured. "This year’s theme is masquerade."

"Okay...?"

"But it did come with one unexpected benefit."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

He tilted his head, expression unreadable. "No one at the office is questioning where my personal assistant is. Everyone knows you’re recovering."

I gave a slow nod. "Okay..."

"So," he said, eyes locked on mine, "I want you to come to the gala. As my girlfriend. Not my assistant."

That made me pause. "Because it’s a masked party?"

He nodded once. "You can be whoever you want to be that night. No questions, no whispers. And since you’re officially ’on medical leave,’ no one will expect you to be in work mode."

I sighed, letting the pillow in my lap drop as I sank into thought. Of course, I was expected to be there because he did introduce me to the world as his girlfriend few months ago. But that little spark of hesitation—what if someone from work recognized me? What if they saw me, my hair, my walk, and figured out who I really was? I couldn’t afford to be exposed like that.

"Do you think people will recognize me?" I asked, leaning back against the pillows and biting my lower lip. "I mean, the gala’s going to have everyone there, and—"

"Then I’ll make sure they know who you really are," Adrien interrupted, his voice full of quiet confidence.

I shot him a deadpan look. "Oh, really? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

"Simple. I’ll announce to the whole room," he said, his voice dropping slightly, a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine, "That you’re Isabella Miller, my assistant and now officially my girlfriend. A nice little reveal."

"Are you insane?" I practically shrieked, the sudden force of my voice jarring against my sore throat. My eyes were wide, staring at him as if he’d just suggested we rob a bank. "A ’nice little reveal’? Adrien, are you trying to get me fired? Or worse, assassinated by jealous socialites?"

He didn’t flinch. His expression remained calm, almost amused. "Neither, Isabella. I’m simply taking control of the narrative. Rather than people whispering and speculating, I’ll tell them exactly what’s happening. No room for misinterpretation."

"Misinterpretation? Adrien, people already think I’m just your assistant who got lucky! If you announce I’m your girlfriend, they’ll think I slept my way to the top. And that’s the best case scenario!" The thought of a thousand judging eyes, of the whispers turning into outright accusations, made my stomach churn.

"And what’s the worst-case scenario, Isabella?" he asked, his voice softer.

I hesitated, my gaze flickering away from his intense stare. "The worst... the worst is that it complicates things. For me. For us. For everything." It was a weak answer, but I couldn’t articulate the true depth of my terror without giving too much away. The idea of being thrust into the spotlight, under the scrutiny of the city’s elite, felt like a public execution.

Adrien reached out, his warm hand covering mine on the hospital bed. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, a comforting, yet almost possessive, gesture. "Isabella, a masked ball is designed for secrets. I’m offering you the chance to shed yours on our terms, not theirs. It’s an opportunity to announce our relationship unequivocally, and in a setting where you’ll be perceived as my partner, not just my employee. We control the first impression."

"But it wouldn’t be the first impression," I argued, pulling my hand away slightly, though he didn’t let go. "You’re the CEO. You’re bulletproof. I’m just... me. And a public declaration like that, out of nowhere, it would be a bombshell. This... this is a complete pivot. It’s too sudden."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that did little to soothe my frayed nerves. "Perhaps. But it’s also undeniably effective. Besides," he leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint that made my heart thump, "I rather like the idea of surprising everyone. Especially those who thought they knew me."

"You’re doing this for shock value?" I accused, my voice incredulous.

"Partly," he admitted, unapologetically. "And partly because I’m tired of hiding you."

My breath hitched. Hiding me? This grand reveal, no matter how Adrien framed it, felt like a dangerous game of Russian roulette, and I was the one with the gun to my head.

"Adrien, please," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper. "This isn’t just about ’us.’ There are... other factors. It’s too risky."

Adrien’s thumb stopped its circling motion on my hand, and his gaze sharpened. "What other factors, Isabella?" he pressed, his voice losing its playful edge, turning serious. "Tell me, what exactly is it that you’re so afraid of?"

"I─I─"

Adrien chuckled. "It’s alright, my love. I understand. I could get a little carried away sometimes."

"So you will still come as my woman right?"

I squinted at him. "You’re oddly enthusiastic about this."

He leaned back slightly. "Your contract still has a month left."

"Adrien, no," I groaned. "Don’t you dare bring that thing up."

He leaned in closer, as he smirked. "What’s wrong? You signed it, didn’t you? It’s still in effect, as far as I’m concerned." He teased, his hand resting lightly on the pillow beside me.

I gave him a look. "I thought the whole dating-you-for-real thing voided the contract."

"Per the terms of your contract—clause four point two: ’You will be available whenever I need you to perform your duties.’ This qualifies."

I snatched the pillow, pressing it against his chest with a mock glare. "I didn’t agree to that ridiculous clause about ’full availability’ when I signed. You can’t just pull that card out."

"Ah, but the contract clearly states," He said, leaning back with a playful glint in his eyes, "that in situations like these, you have to comply with my requests. Or there’s a penalty. And you wouldn’t want to break the contract, would you?"

"The contract is void!!" I declared, my voice a little louder than intended, a mix of genuine frustration and performative indignation. My eyes narrowed, daring him to challenge me. "We’re... we’re dating for real now! That whole ’fake girlfriend’ thing was the premise for the contract. If the premise changes, the contract is null and void!"

"It only becomes void," he said, in that maddeningly calm tone, "if both parties agree to terminate it."

My mouth dropped open. "And you don’t agree?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, shifting closer, "it gives me the legal right to keep you close."

My heart tripped, hard. "That’s manipulative."

"It’s effective," he countered, now mere inches away.

I narrowed my eyes. "And what if I don’t agree?"

He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Then you pay the fifty thousand dollars early termination fee."

My jaw dropped. "You’re blackmailing me!"

He shrugged. "Technically, I’m enforcing the contract."

"Unbelievable." My voice was flat, laced with a mix of fury and disbelief. "You know I don’t have fifty thousand dollars just sitting in an account! That’s more than my annual salary!"

Adrien’s smirk didn’t waver. "Then I suppose your attendance at the gala is non-negotiable, wouldn’t you agree?" He leaned back, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Unless, of course, you’d prefer to find yourself suddenly unemployed and indebted. Though I’d hate for that to happen, truly." His tone was light, but the underlying message was clear.

"This is coercion!" I spluttered, pushing myself up slightly. "You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, not my captor! What kind of loving relationship is built on legal loopholes and extortion?"

"Isabella," he said, his voice now a low murmur. "Look at me."

I met his gaze, my own filled with a mixture of anger and hurt.

"Do you honestly think I would ever take a single cent from you?" he asked, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "Do you really believe I’m holding that fee over your head?"

"You just said—"

"I was teasing," he interrupted softly. "I was being an ass. But I’m also trying to make a point. I’m tired of hiding you, my love. I’m tired of the whispers and the rules we set for ourselves. I’m tired of you being my brilliant, indispensable assistant in the office and the woman I love behind closed doors. I want both. I want it all."

The sincerity in his voice chipped away at my defenses. "But Adrien, the fallout... people won’t see it that way. They won’t see ’us.’ They’ll see the billionaire CEO and his assistant. They’ll strip away every bit of respect I’ve earned. I’ll be a headline, a cautionary tale. I’ll be ’the girl who slept her way into his heart.’ All my work, all my accomplishments... they’ll mean nothing."

He listened to every word, his eyes never leaving mine. When I finished, a raw silence hung in the air between us.

"Then we’ll make them see," he said with quiet finality. "Anyone who dares to disrespect you will answer to me. But I understand your fear. It’s valid." He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "So, new proposal. No contract, no blackmail."

I raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "Go on."

"You come to the gala. With me. You wear a mask. We won’t do a grand reveal," he conceded. "You can be a beautiful mystery for the night. We dance, we drink champagne, and I get to show you off to a room full of people. It will be our secret. A trial run. If, at any point in the night, you feel uncomfortable, you give me the signal, and we’re gone. No questions asked."

He was offering a compromise. A real one. He was acknowledging my fears instead of just dismissing them.

"And the signal?" I asked, my voice small.

A slow smile spread across his face, the devastatingly handsome one that always made my stomach do a little flip.