Mary went over the details once more. "Smile. Agree with everything he says. Pretend to be his fiancée. Don’t question him."
It felt surreal. This wasn’t me. But what choice did I have? The car pulled up, and my suitcase was loaded into the trunk. A silent farewell to Mary, and then I was off.
The car ride to the airport was a blur. The driver’s silence mirrored my thoughts. I wasn’t sure whether I was shaking from fear or excitement.
Inside the VIP lounge, I was escorted to the private plane. The flight attendant greeted me and offered comfort I didn’t feel.
I was finishing a text to Gabriel when I heard it. His voice. Deep. Commanding.
"Good night, Karen. Welcome."
I looked up.
Dante.
He stood there, an imposing figure with a well-tailored suit and eyes that seemed to pierce through me. His presence filled the small cabin.
"Good evening, Mr. Montallegro," I managed, though my throat tightened.
"Please," he said, rolling his sleeve, "Call me Dante."
He was close. Too close. The warmth of his body radiated across the space, and I forced myself not to react.
"I’m nervous," I admitted.
"I understand." His voice was smooth and soothing. I’ll explain everything on the flight."
As the plane ascended, he began talking—calm and casual. He spoke of a big conference and important clients, but his true purpose for hiring me had a raw edge to it.
"My fiancée left me," he said, almost like it didn’t matter, but I could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t over it. "She broke up with me, and two weeks later, she was engaged to someone else. But she still loves me. I need to make her jealous. I need to prove that I’m the man she wants."
It was insane. I couldn’t help but think about it.
But the money, the promise of an escape from this life, was all too tempting.
"I get it," I said, biting back the sarcasm. "I’ll be your girlfriend, Dante."
His lips curled into a half-smile. "You’ll be my fiancée."
Fiancée.
The word echoed in my head louder than it should have.
"We were engaged on a romantic trip to Greece," he continued. "You’ll pretend to be my fiancée. Just follow my lead. Smile. Agree. Keep it simple."
I tried to process the absurdity of it all. "Okay."
Dante smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Good. Just one thing—avoid answering questions. I’ll take care of that."
I nodded my stomach in knots.
The rest of the flight was uneventful. We chatted—casually, like normal people. But there was an undercurrent of tension. Both of us are pretending. Both of us play a role.
Dante pulled something from his bag as the plane descended—a small box. He opened it, revealing two rings.
Engagement rings.
My breath caught in my throat.
"We need to tell this story well," Dante said, his voice low and steady.
He slid one of the rings onto my finger. The weight of it felt like the weight of my own choices.
He then placed the other ring on his finger.
"It seems we’re engaged, dear," he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
His words hung in the air as the plane touched down—the beginning of a story that wasn’t mine.
But it would be now.
