Sofia's POV
"You're late," Josh said, not looking up from his wine glass.
"I'm five minutes late," I said as I took off my heels and let them fall to the marble floor.
He looked up, his eyes calm. "Punctuality says a lot about a person."
"So does obsession with it," I told him as I passed him on my way to the dining room. The dining room was a shining show of wealth, adorned with a gleaming table and crystal glasses, and a three-course meal for us as if we were the ideal couple. But we weren't.
I took out my chair and sat down without waiting for him to ask. We ate quietly for a while.
"You're quiet," I said, cutting into the salmon. "Not that I'm complaining."
"I only talk when I have something to say." He cut his steak without raising his face.
I glanced at him and studied the sharp lines on his face. I stared longer than was appropriate, then I looked back down at my plate.
He started, still not looking at me, "The red dress I sent for the gala." "Put it on."
"Is there a specific reason for this, or are you simply obsessed with controlling my clothing choices as well?" I prodded a cooked potato with my tongue.
He smiled a little. "It would look lovely on you. And it gets the point across."
"To whom?" I asked in a bewildered way.
"Everyone." He took a sip of his wine and peered at me through the rim.
I remained silent. I didn't have the means to do so just yet. He never brought up the picture again, and I never asked him why he had been following me before we made plans. We played our parts perfectly, loving partners in public and chilly strangers in private.
I went to my room after dinner. The interior and exterior of the home were both colder than I had anticipated. Art adorned the walls, yet it felt out of place, akin to museum pieces.
I placed my bag on my room's sofa and positioned myself in front of the full-length mirror. I looked at the woman I was supposed to be. I cloaked myself in opulent attire and flawless makeup, projecting an image of elegance, tranquility, and beauty.
I took off the earrings one at a time and put them on the jewelry tray. My hands were shaking. The performance was starting to get to me. It was starting to feel like wearing someone else's skin to act like the perfect wife in public, smile, touch his arm, and laugh on cue.
I muttered to the woman in the mirror, "You're not real." "None of this is."
But nevertheless... I didn't think Josh would be like that either. I imagined he would be meaner and more diabolic. But he was too quiet, too exact, and occasionally... His eyes held a quality that resembled loneliness, especially when he was unaware of my gaze. He was... well, gorgeous wasn't the appropriate word when he was deep in thought, working, or reading. Maybe magnetic.
I shrugged off the thought and looked the other way. I couldn't afford to question anything, especially not when I was this close.
We departed for the gala the next morning without saying a word. I couldn't tell what Josh was thinking. He was sitting next to me wearing sunglasses while the driver drove us in the black Rolls-Royce. I turned my body slightly away and crossed my knees as if creating physical distance would help me avoid getting too emotionally close.
As we drove up to the location, he remarked, "Do you remember the plan?"
"Smile, wave, and laugh at your jokes," I answered without looking at him, watching the valets race to open doors for visitors who were already there.
"Don't forget to stay by my side." Without any room for compromise, he spoke in a low voice.
"I'll do my best not to get lost," I spoke dryly.
The door opened, and he extended his arm. I hesitated but later took it.
It was like fireworks going off all around us. I grinned, leaned forward, and pretended to be excited. People were already passing around champagne flutes and engaging in conversations reminiscent of a 1920s fairytale. Everyone, even me, looked rich.
As we walked together, Josh's fingers brushed the small of my back. Josh's touch was intimate and intended for others to see. The contact was private and intended to be observed.
One of the women approached us and remarked, "She's even more beautiful in person. Josh, you're a lucky man."
She smiled, and Josh looked at me. "She is... surprising."
Was that a positive or negative thing?
The night faded into talking and fake smiles. I was good at this particular game. For years, I watched my father try to get men like Josh Reynolds to like him. Now I was right in the lion's lair, understanding its patterns and flaws.
Later that night, while he was chatting to a senator about tax breaks or clean energy, I went out to the balcony and let out a sigh. Then my phone rang in my clutch.
A message from Victor, the only person who knew exactly what my plan was. "Don't forget why you're there."
I read the message three times before getting rid of it. I didn't need the reminder. But I couldn't ignore the tightness in my chest. Josh had gazed at me for an hour prior, treating me as if I weren't just another element in the puzzle or a mere person.
"Stupid." I shrugged off the thought.
I was about to go back inside when I saw Josh waiting in the doorway.
He inquired, "Are you enjoying the night?" in a voice that was hard to read.
"I just needed air," I said without hesitation. "People wear me out."
He looked at me, moving his eyes from my face to the red dress and back again. "You seemed to be having fun."
"I'm good at acting." I couldn't stop the truth from coming out.
He responded, "Good," and moved closer. "You'll need that."
There was a break. Not casual enough.
"Why did you want to marry me?" I asked before I could stop myself. "I mean, why did you choose me?"
His eyes blinked. "We both need something."
I replied angrily, "That's not an answer."
He moved closer until he was within grasp. "You're playing a risky game, Sofia." He leaned in close, and I could feel his breath on my face. "The difference is that I made up the game."
I felt confused and oddly breathless when he departed. I remained on the balcony and observed the distant twinkling of the city's lights.
My phone rang again. I received a new message. But it wasn't from Victor. No idea what number.
"You're not the only one who is watching."
My heart skipped. Is someone else following Josh or knows my motive?
I quickly left the balcony and went back into the crowd. Everyone appeared engrossed in their drinks, conversations, and social maneuvering. But someone out there knew too much.