Chapter 13 - Maisie

The text comes through right as dawn breaks, a soft glow slipping through the blinds. I roll over, groaning, and check my phone with bleary eyes.

Celebrate your engagement anniversary tonight. Big dinner. Keep the act flawless —B

Of course. Just what I need after last night: more pretending.

I bite my lip, my pulse quickening as the memories of the rooftop return—Zane’s kiss, how the taste and the feel of him rattled through me as if they would shake me apart. The way he almost tore me wide open, then left me alone in the darkness up there, retreating.

It was mortifying. I have never hated anyone, but in that moment, I hated him.

Now, I can hear him moving around in the other room. The strain between us has settled into the walls, thick and smothering, and now we have to go out in public and act like we’re madly in love. I hate how good I’ve gotten at lying.

In the kitchen, the coffee machine whirrs softly. I drag myself out of bed, knowing there’s no avoiding this. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.

With everything that’s happened, I think I might just want to.

***

The restaurant the team chose is stunning, of course. All glass chandeliers and velvet booths, the kind of place where people like “us” spend money just to be seen spending it. Dark-clothed waiters glide between tables, presenting carafes of blood-red wine to beautiful couples. Twinkling laughter floats through the air.

Zane and I walk inside, arm-in-arm, and I have to admit, we look the part. I’m wearing a deep blue silk dress that skims the floor, my hair styled like I belong here. This color brings out my eyes. Tonight, I even feel a little good about myself. The way my dress catches in the light makes me feel powerful, beautiful. Like I’m really this person, Vivian, who lives this life. Zane, beside me, is devastating in his navy suit, every inch of him screaming control and confidence, hair recently cut, brown eyes sharp under the low lights above us.

I’m still suffocating. I’ve become good at holding my breath.

“Table for two,” Zane says, his voice smooth as he hands the hostess our reservation. His hand stays on the small of my back, a gesture for anyone watching. I have grown used to his touch there. I never used to let people close enough to touch my midriff. A month ago, the thought would have been mortifying.

The hostess leads us to a corner table with a perfect view of the room. I slide into my seat, glancing at the other diners—well-dressed pairs, business partners, beautiful strangers laughing too loudly over too-expensive cocktails. They look so carefree, so unaware of the threat that lingers over us. They’re worlds away from the one we live in.

Once we’re seated, Zane reaches across the table and takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a show of affection that makes my stomach turn over.

“Happy anniversary, Babe,” he says, his voice low, rich with chocolatey warmth that isn’t real.

His eyes lock onto mine, and I can almost hear the unspoken message beneath his words: We’re being watched. Play along.

I force a smile, squeezing his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Happy anniversary, Baby.” I lean in slightly, keeping my voice light, teasing. “Can you believe it’s been so long?”

His lips twitch into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Time flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?”

I laugh, a soft, airy sound that sounds foreign even to me. “Especially with you.”

The waiter arrives, and we order champagne, playing the part of the well-to-do couple celebrating a milestone. As soon as he’s gone, I feel the stress creep back in, even though Zane keeps his mask on flawlessly. He always does. Who taught him how to lie as well as he does? Byron can’t do half the things he can when it comes to winning people.

He leans back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on me.

“You know, I was thinking,” he says, his tone playful but with a sharp undercurrent. “Maybe we should start planning the wedding soon. I mean, it’s not like we’ve been busy or anything.”

I smile, but it feels like a crack in my face. Soon, I’ll split right down the middle, compound fractures cutting me apart permanently. Zane will have to carry me back to Rosecreek in pieces.

“Oh, I don’t know. Weddings are so stressful. Plus, I’ve been told I can be a bit... indecisive.”

Zane chuckles, picking up his glass. “I think you’ll handle it just fine. You’ve always found a way of surprising me.”

I take a sip of my wine, the sweetness coating my tongue as I struggle to keep my facade from crumbling.

“That’s because you underestimate me,” I say, forcing a little laugh. “But don’t worry. I’ll keep you on your toes.”

He leans in slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’d love to see the day you surprise me.”

For the people watching, we would look like a couple sharing a flirty, intimate conversation. But underneath it all, we both know precisely what we’re saying.

The waiter returns with our appetizers, and I pick at mine, the food tasteless in my mouth. Zane continues the performance flawlessly, quizzing me about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations. Every answer I give feels like a jab. We’re still sparring even now, and I’m losing. I’m always losing.

“Maybe somewhere local for the honeymoon. Something low-key,” he says, spearing a piece of his steak. “You always did like the lakes.”

Thanks to you, I haven’t been down to the lake in months. I tilt my head, pretending to consider it. “I don’t know. Maybe something more exciting. Somewhere far from here. After all, we don’t want to get stuck in one place, do we?”

He smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “No. We wouldn’t want that.”

I run into the reality of my situation in my own head every once in a while: I am sitting in a dress worth more money than I make in six months, in a restaurant more expensive than any other in this half of the state, and despite all the glamor, through the ambient music and the sparkling of the chandeliers, all I can think of is what’s going on in Zane’s head. I wish, as I have numerous times in the last few weeks, that I could read his mind. I wish I knew what was going on in there.

Setting down his fork, Zane reaches across the table again, brushing his thumb over my wrist.

“You seem tense tonight,” he says softly, for my ears only. “Everything alright?”

I smile, the tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe. “Just thinking about the future. You know how I get.”

His gaze sharpens for a moment, like he’s trying to see through me, but then he nods, his thumb still tracing circles on my skin.

“Don’t worry, Baby,” he says. “I’ll take care of you.”

The words send a chill down my spine, but I force myself to smile, to lean into his touch like it means anything at all to me. Like I believe him.

Soon, the waiter clears our plates, and the room around us buzzes with laughter and conversation, but it all feels distant. I’m watching it from behind glass. I feel like a pinned butterfly: beautiful but cold.

Zane sits back in his chair, his expression unreadable, the enormity of everything unsaid dangling between us.

“Another year down,” he says, lifting his glass in a mock toast.

I raise mine, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “And many more to come.”

We clink glasses. I’m not supposed to, but I tip mine back and drink.

In the head-spinning beauty of the dining room, beneath the eyes I feel watching us, my world no longer feels like mine. In a rush, I feel dizzy, fizzing on the inside as if the champagne is sitting in the bottom of my stomach, protesting. I make my excuses to step out.

In the bathroom, I dab water on my hot face and watch my reflection, the stranger there staring right back at me. She’s beautiful. She has everything she’s ever wanted.

She isn’t real.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the swirling in my head. The water from the sink is cold against my palms as I press my hands into the counter, grounding myself. I can do this for a little while longer. I can make it back to the condo. I can fall asleep alone, and I will, for a moment, feel in control of myself when I’m on my own again.

With a final glance at my reflection, I smooth down my dress and step out of the bathroom. The hum of the restaurant returns like a wave, washing over me. Voices chatter, silverware clinks, laughter echoes. Everything is too bright, too loud.

As I make my way toward the crowded dining room, through the winding hallways away from the bathroom, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye—a shadow. It flickers past, then stills.

Before I can react, a hand clamps around my arm.

My breath catches in my throat as I’m pulled off balance and dragged backward into the dimly lit alcove.

I twist, heart pounding, but the grip tightens, pushing me roughly. The side of my head thuds against the wall, and I gasp with pain.

The stranger is close now, too close, his face just inches from mine. Dark eyes bore into me, sharp and cold, and there’s a dangerous glint behind them.

A thrill of panic rushes through me. My pulse roars in my ears.

The man is tall and broad. I don’t know his face. His scent is unfamiliar. Not Haverwood. Maybe an associate?

“Who are you spying for?”

His voice is low, a snarl barely contained beneath the surface. He presses in closer, his breath hot against my skin, the weight of him pinning me against the wall.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammer, my voice trembling.

His grip tightens, fingers digging painfully into my arm. “Don’t play dumb. You and your boyfriend—who sent you here? Who are you working for?”

Panic surges through me, cold and sharp, but I force myself to meet his gaze. The act—I have to stay in character.

“Please, if you want money, my fiancé can pay you,” I manage to gasp, my heart racing. My voice squeaks. The fear is real. “We’re just here for dinner. It’s our engagement anniversary.”

The man lets out a low, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing. He leans in closer, his mouth near my ear. “If you’re smart, you’ll tell me the truth. Now.”

Terror coils like a snake in my stomach, but I fight to keep a grip on myself. I can’t break. If I break, he’ll kill me anyway.

I have to stall, to buy time.

Zane will realize something’s wrong. He’ll come looking for me. He has to.

I pray that the pack bond will work between us—both of us outsiders as we are, and Zane still halfway a rogue. I think desperately, shamelessly, Zane, save me!