The silence in the Bentley was a physical weight. The only sounds were the whisper of leather as she shifted and the faint, powerful hum of the engine. Adina stared out at the city rushing by, a wave of relief so profound it left her dizzy.

She was safe. For now.

"That was quite a performance."

Caden Sinclair’s voice was a low, resonant baritone. He didn't look at her. His gaze was fixed on the traffic ahead.

Adina turned to face him. His eyes were dark, almost black, absorbing all the light in the car.

"Performance?" she replied, her voice cool. "No. That was a choice."

She leaned closer, deliberately invading his personal space. The air grew thick. She could smell his cologne—a clean, cold scent of sandalwood and something sharp, like gin.

"I need a fiancé," she said. "And you, Mr. Sinclair, happen to be the man my family conveniently arranged for me."

He finally turned his head. His gaze moved over her, a slow, appraising inventory that made her feel like a line item on a balance sheet.

"So you use me to humiliate your boyfriend, and now you want to cash in on our arrangement?"

This was her one shot. She reached out, her fingers trailing lightly over the sleeve of his expensive suit.

"Why not? I believe I'm a good investment. Beautiful, talented, and a soon—to—be famous designer."

His eyes darkened. His hand shot out, closing around her wrist. His grip was unyielding—not painful, but absolute. The heat of his skin was a shock against hers.

"Don't play games with me, Adina," he warned, his voice a low growl. "I despise women who think they can climb into my bed with cheap tricks."

A flicker of fear tried to surface. She crushed it. This was nothing. She met his stare with a brilliant smile.

"Oh, I'm not cheap. In fact, I'm very expensive." She let the words hang in the air. "The Miller family heiress, remember?"

A subtle shift in his expression. She had reminded him this was business. A merger of two families.

Sensing the change, she stopped pulling against his grip. He let her go. She sat up straight, folding her hands in her lap, the picture of demure propriety.

"Of course," she said, her voice now soft. "I wouldn't dare play games with you." She looked up at him through her lashes. "From now on, you are my dear sponsor. I'll be good."

"Sponsor?" He repeated the word slowly. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that held no humor.

Adina nodded earnestly. "Yes. You provide protection. I provide the Miller connection and a fiancée who will play her part perfectly. It's a fair deal."

He was silent for a long moment, his dark eyes dissecting her. She could feel him calculating the risks and rewards.

She held her breath.

Finally, he spoke. "Fine. The engagement stands. My assistant will contact your family."

A wave of relief washed over her, so intense she felt light—headed. She had done it.

She gave him a dazzling, grateful smile. "Thank you, my dear sponsor." She deliberately emphasized the word "dear."

His eyes narrowed with a silent warning, but he said nothing more. He turned his attention back to the city, the deal closed.