The restaurant was the kind of place where power lunches happened—crisp white tablecloths, crystal glasses that caught the light like diamonds, and waiters who moved like ghosts, anticipating needs before they were voiced. Mira’s fingers tightened around the stem of her water glass as she scanned the room, her pulse thrumming in her throat.
*Too many eyes.*
Theo sat across from her, his broad shoulders relaxed beneath the tailored lines of his charcoal suit, one ankle resting lazily on the opposite knee. He looked like he belonged here. Like he *owned* the place. His dark eyes flicked up, catching her gaze, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips.
“Nervous?” His voice was low, just for her.
Mira forced a smile, her fingers trembling slightly as she set the glass down. “Should I be?”
Theo’s smile deepened, his gaze dropping to her mouth before lifting back to her eyes. “Only if you’re bad at this.”
She exhaled sharply, her stomach twisting. *Bad at this.* Like this was some kind of performance. Like she wasn’t already drowning in the way his knee brushed against hers beneath the table, the way his cologne wrapped around her like a promise.
“You’ll tell me if I’m doing it wrong?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Theo’s hand slid across the table, his fingers curling around hers. His skin was warm, his grip firm. “I’ll tell you,” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles over her knuckles. “But you won’t need me to.”
Mira swallowed hard, her breath catching as his touch sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. She could feel the weight of the room’s attention shifting toward them, the subtle tilt of heads, the way conversations hushed just enough to make her skin prickle.
Theo leaned forward, his voice dropping to a rumble. “Relax your shoulders. You’re too tense.”
Mira forced herself to exhale, rolling her shoulders back. “Easier said than done.”
“Pretend you’re somewhere else,” he said, his fingers still stroking hers. “Somewhere you feel safe.”
Mira’s lips parted, her mind flashing to the backseat of his town car, the way his mouth had burned against her skin, the way his hands had—
She cut the thought off before it could spiral. “That’s not helping.”
Theo chuckled, low and dark, his thumb pressing just a little harder into her palm. “Then pretend you’re somewhere you *want* to be.”
Mira’s breath hitched. She didn’t have to pretend.
---
The first paparazzi shot happened before their appetizers arrived.
A flash. A sharp *click*. Mira flinched, her fingers tightening around Theo’s, but he didn’t react. He didn’t even glance toward the source of the noise. Instead, he lifted her hand to his mouth, his lips brushing over her knuckles in a slow, deliberate kiss.
Mira’s pulse spiked, her skin tingling where his mouth had been. She could feel the weight of the photographer’s gaze, the way the lens zoomed in, capturing every second of the intimate gesture.
Theo’s eyes locked onto hers, dark and unreadable. “Smile,” he murmured against her skin.
Mira forced her lips to curve, her heart hammering. She leaned into him, just like he’d coached her in the car, her free hand resting lightly on his thigh. His muscles tensed beneath her touch, his breath hitching just enough for her to notice.
“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice rough.
Mira’s stomach flipped.
---
Carla arrived halfway through their meal.
Mira recognized her instantly—the sharp-eyed assistant from the gala, the one who had watched her with thinly veiled suspicion. Today, her dark hair was pulled into a sleek chignon, her tailored blazer hugging her frame like armor. She moved with the precision of someone who didn’t waste time, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she approached their table.
Theo didn’t look up from his plate. “Carla.”
“Mr. Sterling.” Carla’s voice was cool, professional. Her gaze flicked to Mira, then back to Theo. “I have the quarterly reports you requested. They’re in your car.”
Theo finally lifted his head, his expression unreadable. “Anything urgent?”
Carla hesitated, just for a second. “Nothing that can’t wait until after lunch.”
Theo’s fingers tightened around Mira’s beneath the table. “Then it can wait.”
Carla’s jaw tensed, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Of course.”
Mira’s stomach twisted. She could feel the unspoken tension between them, the way Carla’s gaze lingered on their joined hands. The woman didn’t like her. That much was obvious.
Theo turned to Mira, his thumb tracing slow circles over her wrist. “Carla’s been with me for years,” he said, his voice low. “She keeps me in line.”
Mira forced a smile, her fingers flexing beneath his. “I can see why.”
Carla’s lips thinned. “I’ll leave you to your meal.” She turned on her heel, her posture rigid, and strode away without another word.
Theo watched her go, his expression unreadable. Then he turned back to Mira, his fingers tightening around hers. “She doesn’t trust easily.”
Mira’s pulse spiked. “Should she?”
Theo’s gaze darkened, his thumb pressing into the sensitive skin of her wrist. “No,” he murmured. “But she should trust *me*.”
Mira’s breath caught. She wanted to ask what that meant. Wanted to know if he was warning her, or reassuring her. But before she could speak, Theo’s phone buzzed against the table.
He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting—just for a second—into something unreadable. Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned his full attention back to her.
“Eat,” he said, his voice rough. “We’re not done yet.”
---
The second test came when they stepped outside.
The paparazzi were waiting.
Mira’s breath hitched as the flashes exploded around them, the shouts of photographers blending into a wall of noise. Theo’s hand settled at the small of her back, his touch firm, grounding. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Stay close,” he murmured.
Mira nodded, her fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket. She could feel the heat of his body through the thin layer of silk, the way his muscles tensed as he guided her toward the waiting town car.
A photographer lunged forward, his camera raised. “Theo! Over here!”
Theo didn’t slow. He kept moving, his hand pressing Mira forward, his body shielding hers from the worst of the onslaught. But then—
“Mira!” another voice called. “How long have you two been together?”
Mira froze.
Theo’s fingers tightened against her back. “Keep walking,” he murmured.
But she couldn’t. Not yet. She turned her head, just enough to meet the photographer’s gaze, her lips curving into a slow, practiced smile.
“Long enough,” she said, her voice steady.
Theo’s breath hitched beside her. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his body tensed, like he was holding himself back from something.
Then his hand slid from her back to her waist, pulling her flush against him. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice rough.
Mira’s pulse spiked.
---
The photos hit the internet before they even reached the car.
Theo’s phone buzzed as they slid into the backseat, the screen lighting up with a notification. He glanced at it, his expression unreadable, before passing it to Mira.
She took it with trembling fingers.
The first image was of them at the table—Theo’s hand wrapped around hers, his lips pressed to her knuckles, her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made her stomach flip. The second was of them outside, Theo’s body shielding hers, his hand possessive at her waist.
The caption read: *Theo Sterling’s Mystery Woman—Who Is She?*
Mira’s breath caught.
Theo’s fingers brushed against her thigh, his touch light, teasing. “You’re a natural,” he murmured.
Mira swallowed hard, her gaze still fixed on the screen. “It’s just acting.”
Theo’s hand stilled. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Is it?”
Mira’s pulse spiked, her breath hitching as his fingers tightened against her skin.
Before she could answer, his phone buzzed again.
This time, the notification wasn’t for him.
Mira’s screen lit up in her purse, the familiar chime of a text message cutting through the silence.
She pulled it out, her stomach twisting as she read the name on the screen.
*Daniel.*
Her ex.
The message was short, simple.
*So it’s true.*
Mira’s fingers tightened around the phone, her heart pounding.
Theo’s gaze flicked to the screen, his expression darkening. “Problem?”
Mira swallowed hard, her throat tight. “No.”
Theo’s fingers traced slow circles over her thigh, his touch sending a jolt of heat straight to her core. “Liar.”
Mira’s breath hitched.
She didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
This was really happening.
And she had no idea what came next.