Chapter 2

The evening drags on, filled with polite small talk and fake smiles. I hate these events. The shallow conversations, the forced laughter—it’s all a game I’ve never had the patience to play. But Kieran? He thrives in this world. He moves through the crowd with an effortless charm, shaking hands, making connections. It’s impressive, I’ll give him that.

Too bad I still don’t trust him.

"You’re staring," Kieran murmurs, appearing beside me with a fresh glass of champagne. "Something on your mind, Atlas?"

I scoff, taking a sip of my drink. "Just wondering how you manage to be so damn fake."

He smirks, tilting his head slightly. "And yet you’re standing here, playing along just like me. Maybe we’re not so different after all."

I open my mouth to argue, but before I can, an older woman approaches us. Mrs. Ellington, one of my father’s biggest investors.

"Atlas, darling! And this must be your fiancé!" She beams at Kieran before pulling me into a brief hug. "My, my, you two make a stunning couple."

I barely suppress a grimace. "Thank you, Mrs. Ellington."

She turns to Kieran, eyes twinkling. "So, tell me, Mr. Laurent, how did you know Atlas was the one?"

Kieran doesn’t hesitate. He slides an arm around my waist—a bold move—and meets her gaze with a smile that’s all charm and mischief. "Oh, it was simple. The first time I met him, he insulted me. I knew right then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life arguing with him."

I choke on my drink. The audacity.

Mrs. Ellington claps her hands together. "Oh, how romantic!" She gives me a knowing look. "Fiery ones make the best partners, don’t they?"

I manage a tight smile. "Something like that."

As soon as she walks away, I turn to Kieran, narrowing my eyes. "Really? That’s the story you’re going with?"

He grins. "It was either that or tell her the truth—that we’d rather strangle each other than plan a wedding."

I roll my eyes, but I can’t deny it—there’s something almost… fun about this. Dangerous, yes. Irritating, definitely. But fun.

And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.

Later that night, after the party finally ends, Kieran walks me out to my car. The city lights glow around us, casting shadows across his sharp features. For a moment, we just stand there, the air between us heavy with unspoken words.

"You did well tonight," he finally says. "Almost like you actually enjoyed yourself."

I snort. "Don’t get used to it."

He watches me for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, without warning, he reaches up and adjusts my tie, his fingers brushing against my throat. It’s quick, casual—but it sends a shiver down my spine.

"Goodnight, Atlas," he murmurs, stepping back.

I don’t respond. I just get in my car and drive away, gripping the wheel a little too tightly.

Because for the first time since this whole mess started, I have a feeling that Kieran Laurent is going to be more than just a complication.

He might just be my downfall.

The days following the engagement party are filled with a flurry of public appearances, orchestrated meetings, and carefully curated moments designed to sell the illusion of our impending union. Kieran and I move like chess pieces in a game neither of us wants to play, yet both refuse to lose.

"Try to look like you're actually enjoying this," Kieran mutters under his breath as we pose for a photo at a charity gala. His arm is looped around my waist, his grip firm but deceptively relaxed.

"I’m not that good of an actor," I reply through a tight smile, keeping my gaze fixed on the cameras.

He chuckles lowly, just loud enough for me to hear. "Shame. You’d make a killing in the industry."

As soon as the flash fades, I step away, smoothing out the front of my jacket. "If I wanted to deal with fake people all day, I’d have chosen Hollywood over the boardroom."

"But then we never would have met," Kieran says, tilting his head slightly, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

"And what a tragedy that would have been."

"You wound me, Atlas. Truly."

Before I can respond, my father’s voice cuts through the crowd. "Atlas, Kieran. A word."

Kieran gives me a pointed look before we both turn to face my father, who motions us toward a quieter corner of the ballroom.

"You’re both doing well with the public appearances," he says, his tone devoid of praise, as if stating a fact. "But the engagement isn't just for the media. I expect real progress on the merger. The board wants updates."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Of course they do."

"You’re a Laurent now, Atlas," my father continues, ignoring my sarcasm. "Start acting like it. Work with Kieran. You two need to be in sync."

Kieran steps in smoothly, his voice effortlessly diplomatic. "We understand the stakes, Mr. Ellington. Atlas and I are aligned on ensuring the transition is seamless."

I shoot him a look, but he only smiles, perfectly at ease in the art of manipulation. My father nods, apparently satisfied, and steps away to rejoin a group of executives.

I turn to Kieran. "‘Aligned on ensuring the transition is seamless’? You sound like a damn PR statement."

He smirks. "What can I say? I’m a man of many talents."

"I highly doubt that."

"Careful, fiancé." His voice drops lower, teasing. "You might just find out firsthand."

I scoff and brush past him, but his words stay with me longer than I’d like to admit.

Later that night, I collapse onto my couch, exhaustion seeping into my bones. The weight of expectations, of playing the perfect son and the devoted fiancé, is suffocating.

My phone buzzes. A message from Kieran.

Kieran: Can’t sleep either?

I hesitate before responding.

Atlas: I have a lot on my mind. What’s your excuse?

Kieran: Thinking about you.

I stare at the screen, my pulse skipping a beat. It’s a joke. It has to be.

Atlas: Very funny.

Kieran: Who says I’m joking?

I don’t respond. Instead, I toss my phone aside and close my eyes, willing myself to ignore the way my heart hammers in my chest.

But the worst part?

I don’t think I want to ignore it at all.