Chapter 3: The Real Date

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Rain trickled softly against the windowpanes of the sleek black limousine as it coasted through the glowing city streets. Inside, Aiden Valen sat stiffly, one hand resting on his knee, the other clenching the edge of his coat. He had spent the last twenty minutes convincing himself that this wasn’t a date—it was simply a... research venture.

He adjusted his tie.

Opposite him sat Lira, legs crossed, looking effortlessly radiant in a simple off-shoulder navy dress that hugged her curves without screaming for attention. Her makeup was light, but her lips had just enough color to keep him stealing glances when she wasn’t looking.

And she wasn’t.

She was staring out the window, humming softly.

"You're unusually quiet today," Aiden finally said, breaking the silence.

Lira turned to him with a slight smile. "You’re unusually nervous today."

He stiffened. "I’m not nervous. I’m... composed."

"Right. And I’m Cinderella on my way to the ball."

Aiden’s lips twitched. Was that humor? Was he…smiling?

"I just think it's strange," he muttered, looking outside to avoid her gaze. "Taking a stranger to a formal event. Pretending."

"Technically, you hired me," she said, folding her hands neatly on her lap. "So technically, this is still business."

"But it's not supposed to feel like it."

"Ah," she tilted her head. "So you want the fake girlfriend experience to feel real?"

He met her eyes then, and for the first time in the night, he faltered.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe I just want to understand how relationships work. Not just in theory."

Lira leaned forward, resting her elbows lightly on her knees. “Then here’s your first lesson: it’s not all theory and logic. Sometimes, it’s about feeling. Connection. Even chaos.”

Aiden frowned. “I don’t do chaos.”

“That’s why you’re still single,” she teased.

Before he could come up with a reply, the limo stopped in front of a grand hotel, its entrance lit up with chandeliers visible even through the thick glass doors. Tonight was the Tech Elite Charity Gala, an event filled with CEOs, investors, politicians, and press.

Aiden stepped out first, straightened his coat, and extended his hand to Lira.

She hesitated—just a fraction—before taking it.

Their fingers intertwined.

Flashes went off. Reporters began snapping pictures immediately.

Aiden felt Lira lean closer and whisper through a practiced smile, “Now’s the time to act in love.”

He hesitated only for a second before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her just a little closer. The photographers loved it.

Inside, the room was lavish, with crystalline chandeliers casting golden light on marble floors. Waiters walked around with silver trays of champagne, and the air buzzed with wealth and ego.

“Mr. Valen!” A woman with platinum hair and sharp red lipstick approached. “And...this must be your date?”

Aiden nodded. “Yes. This is Lira.”

“Pleasure,” Lira said smoothly, offering a handshake. She had a perfect balance of confidence and charm, her voice sweet but unwavering.

As the woman walked away, Aiden murmured, “You handled that well.”

“I told you,” she said, sipping champagne. “Fake or not, I’m a good girlfriend.”

Hours passed.

They mingled.

Lira laughed in just the right moments. Touched Aiden’s arm lightly. Looked at him with warm, adoring eyes.

And he…responded.

To his own surprise, he found himself smiling more. Relaxing. Looking for her hand without thinking.

He hadn’t expected this.

At one point during the evening, he found himself watching her from across the room. She was talking to another CEO—older, smug, and annoyingly flirtatious. She handled him with grace, even smiled, but Aiden's chest tightened.

Why?

He didn’t like the way that man looked at her.

When the man reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, something snapped.

Aiden walked straight toward them, his hand finding the small of her back.

“Excuse us,” he said coolly to the man. “I need a word with my girlfriend.”

Lira blinked in surprise as Aiden led her away, into a quieter hallway near the back.

Once they were alone, she raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, Mr. CEO?”

He looked away, jaw clenched. “I just didn’t like how he touched you.”

There was a pause.

“You know it’s not real, right?” she asked softly.

“I know.”

But his voice was tight.

Another pause.

“Still,” she added, “thank you for stepping in. It was getting uncomfortable.”

He turned to her then, expression softening. “You could’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to make a scene.”

Aiden reached up—hesitantly—and brushed that same strand of hair behind her ear.

It felt…intimate.

And it startled them both.

“I don’t get it,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “Why does it feel like this matters?”

Lira took a slow breath. “Because maybe...we’re both pretending too well.”

Their eyes locked.

The distance between them felt charged.

But before either could move—or speak further—a staff member approached and interrupted them, calling Aiden for a brief press statement.

He nodded, adjusted his cuff, and turned to Lira. “Will you be okay alone?”

“I’m not a damsel,” she said, her voice light.

Still, when he walked away, he kept glancing back.

The gala ended late.

The limousine was quiet again.

But this time, the air between them wasn’t awkward—it was thick with something unspoken.

When they arrived back at his penthouse, Aiden cleared his throat.

“You can stay for a while. It’s late. The roads are—”

“Are you inviting me in?” she teased.

“No. I’m... offering you rest. As your...client.”

“Right,” she said, stepping out. “Client.”

But they both knew it wasn’t just that anymore.

Inside the penthouse, she walked around, taking in the minimalistic modern interior. Cold grays. Sharp whites. Not a single photo or trace of personal touch.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “But empty.”

“It serves its purpose.”

“You live like you don’t plan to stay.”

He looked at her, surprised. “What does that mean?”

“Everything’s perfect. But sterile. No warmth. No sign of anyone else. As if you never intended to share it with someone.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” she added. “That was out of line.”

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s true.”

He poured two glasses of wine and handed her one. They stood on the balcony, overlooking the sleeping city.

“I built my life around control,” he said. “And love—relationships—they’re messy.”

“They are,” she agreed. “But sometimes, they’re worth it.”

He looked at her then. Her hair dancing with the breeze. Her silhouette outlined by the city lights.