I shift closer to Jase, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath my palm. “I recognize you. You’ve been one of Jase’s dates before at an event like this.” My smile is quick and my voice is loaded with sweetness. “Who did you come with tonight, Madison? I can’t imagine you came alone.”

Jase goes completely still, all but choking on his next breath.

Madison’s smile falters slightly.

And for the first time tonight, I feel like I have the upper hand. Like I found my backbone and am finally on an even playing field.

Jase recovers quickly, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me against him. His lips brush my temple, lingering just long enough to send heat rushing through me. “She’s a quick learner,” he murmurs against my skin.

I know it’s all part of the act, but when he pulls back, I see something new in his expression—something unreadable, something dangerous.

Desire.

Pride.

Want.

As Madison makes a polite excuse and melts back into the crowd, I exhale slowly and try to regain my composure. Jase watches me, his gaze darker now, sharper.

“That was interesting,” he muses.

I arch a brow. “What was?”

His fingers brush against my hip, slow and deliberate. “You, getting jealous.”

“Please.” I snort. “I was just playing the part and letting her down gently.”

“Killing her with kindness?”

“Can’t be called a bitch when you’re sweet and complimentary, now can you?”

“True but you can still be jealous.” His voice is smooth, teasing, but there’s something else beneath it—something unsettling.

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes.

“Excuse me for a moment? I need to use the restroom. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Fine. Yes.” I watch him walk away and draw in a deep breath.

“Ah, there she is,” a smooth, confident voice says. “Thought he’d never leave your side.”

I turn to find Quinlan, Hawkin’s wife, standing before me, a champagne flute in her hand and a warm, knowing smile on her lips. Beside her, Bristol, Vince’s wife, tilts her head, assessing me.

“So,” Bristol says with a knowing smirk. “How’s the bakery?”

They know the truth, but lucky for me they seem okay with it and are playing the game.

Just like I am.

I clear my throat, gripping my clutch just a little tighter. “Busy,” I say with a polite smile. “Flour-covered hands aren’t exactly gala-friendly, but I’m here. I’m trying.”

Quinlan chuckles, lifting her glass to her lips. “I get that. I used to think I’d never fit into this world either. But you’d be surprised how easy it gets after a while.”

I raise a brow. “You mean it stops feeling like everyone is watching and waiting for me to fail?”

Bristol laughs. “We’re not that lucky. They’re always watching. The trick is that you stop caring.”