That night, Everleigh sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room, staring at the yellow diamond. She had taken it off and put it on a chain around her neck. It was too heavy to wear on her finger-too heavy with implication.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

Incoming Video Call: Gus.

She panicked. She dropped the phone on the duvet.

"Answer it!" Illa yelled from the hallway. She was eavesdropping, of course. "Check if he's hot! Or if he's a troll!"

Evie took a deep breath. She picked up the phone. She put her thumb over the camera lens and hit accept.

The screen lit up. The connection was clear, encrypted.

The image was dark. He was in a room with low lighting. She could see the collar of a dark shirt, broad shoulders, the back of a leather chair.

"Move your hand, Evie," his voice came through the speaker. It was even deeper than the recording. "I want to see you."

"I... I'm not wearing makeup," she stammered.

"I didn't marry your makeup. Move your hand."

It was a command, soft but firm. Her thumb slid away from the lens.

She saw herself in the corner of the screen-wet hair, wide eyes, looking terrified.

Then she looked at him.

He leaned forward into the light.

Evie stopped breathing.

He wasn't a troll. He wasn't an old man. He was... devastating. Dark hair, cut short. A nose that was straight and aristocratic. And eyes that were so dark they looked black, framed by thick lashes. But it was the jawline that got her-sharp, tense, covered in a shadow of stubble.

He looked familiar. Like a dream she'd forgotten.

He tilted his head, the light casting half his face in shadow. "Disappointed?"

"No," Evie whispered. "You're... not bald."

He smirked. A slow, lazy curving of his lips that made her stomach flip. "Glad to meet your standards. Illa has been feeding you lies."

"Where are you?" she asked.

"London," he said smoothly. "Business. The time difference is a killer."

He glanced at something off-screen, a subtle movement, but it was enough to convey the pressure of a world she couldn't see. The background was tastefully blurred, a generic but expensive-looking office.

"Does the ring fit?" he asked, his gaze dropping to her neck where the diamond rested against her collarbone. His eyes darkened.

"It fits. It's too much, Gus. I'm afraid I'll lose it."

"If you lose it, I'll buy another one," he said. "You're my wife now. Get used to it."

"What is your full name?" Evie asked suddenly. "The certificate was stained. I can't just call you Gus forever."

He hesitated. For a split second, a shadow passed over his face.

"Gideon," he said. "Gideon Augustus Williams."

"Like the emperor," Evie said. "It suits you. You're bossy enough."

He chuckled, a low rumble. "You can call me Gus. Only my enemies call me by my full name."

Suddenly, a voice spoke from his side of the line. A man's voice, urgent. "Sir, the board is waiting. The Tokyo market is opening..."

Gus hit a button, muting his end. He looked at someone off-screen, his expression shifting from indulgent to terrifyingly cold in a nanosecond. He said something sharp, then turned back to Evie, his face softening.

"I have to go. Work."

"Okay," she said. "Goodnight... Gus."

"Goodnight, Evie."

The screen went black. She sat there for a long time, her heart racing.

Illa burst into the room. "Well? Verdict?"

"He's hot," Evie admitted. "Very hot. His name is Gideon Augustus."

Illa froze. "Agustus?"

"It's his middle name. See? Just a name."

Illa let out a nervous laugh. "Right. Just a name. Because if my brother looked at a woman the way you're smiling right now, the world would probably end. He's a monk. A celibate, workaholic monk."

"Gus isn't a monk," Evie said, thinking of the hickey on her neck.

Next door, Agustus Williams put down his phone. He walked to the window and looked at the light in the guest room of the adjacent penthouse.

"Sir?" his assistant asked tentatively. "The acquisition?"

"Cancel the morning meeting," Agustus said, not looking away from the window. "And get me the tie that matches the blue dress she wore in her profile picture. I want to wear it tomorrow."

"Sir?"

"Just do it."

The next morning, Everleigh stood in front of the mirror, dressed for her first day at the new photography studio.

She wore a simple black turtleneck and slacks.

The yellow diamond was tucked safely under the fabric, resting against her skin like a hot coal.

"Too flashy," she muttered. "Definitely too flashy for a junior assistant."

Her phone rang, An unknown number.

"Hello?"

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Darrin's voice screamed into her ear. "Blocking me? Getting me thrown out of Cartier?"

Her grip on the phone tightened. "Darrin, stop. It's over."

"It's not over until I say it's over!" he yelled. "And that ring? It's fake. Just like you. Who is he? Some old sugar daddy you found on Craigslist?"

"He's my husband," Evie said, her voice shaking but firm. "And he's worth a thousand of you."

"I have photos, Everleigh," Darrin hissed. "Private photos. From that weekend in the Hamptons. If you don't come back and beg..."

The blood drained from her face. "You wouldn't."

"Try me. I'll post them everywhere. I'll send them to your new boss."

Panic, cold and suffocating, clawed at her throat.

Suddenly, there was a sound on the line. A loud thud. Then a scuffle.

"Hey! Who are you? Get off me!" Darrin shrieked.

Then, silence.

A new voice came on the line. Calm. Mechanical. Terrifying.

"Mrs. Williams?"

"Who... who is this?"

"I am legal counsel for Mr. G's firm. We have been monitoring the situation. The pest has been neutralized."

"Neutralized?" Evie gasped. "Did you kill him?"

"We are law-abiding citizens, ma'am," the lawyer said smoothly. "We have simply confiscated his phone and served him with a restraining order. He is currently crying in the hallway."

She could hear faint sobbing in the background. It was definitely Darrin.

"And the photos?" she whispered.

"Deleted. The cloud backup has been scrubbed. The device has been... bricked. You are safe."

"Gus sent you?"

"Mr. G does not tolerate threats against his family. Our corporate security and legal departments are... thorough. Have a good day at work, Mrs. Williams."

The line went dead.

Evie stood there, trembling, a cold dread mixing with a strange sense of security. Corporate security? What kind of 'guy who got lucky in the market' had a legal team that could move that fast, that ruthlessly? It felt like a tank had been used to kill a fly. She opened the Enigma app.

Thank you, she typed. You saved me.

Go to work, Gus replied instantly. Don't be late. I hear the traffic on 5th is bad.

Evie smiled, wiping a tear from her cheek. He was watching. It should have been creepy, but after Darrin... it felt like a warm blanket.

She took a taxi to the studio.

The HR manager, a woman with cat-eye glasses, stared at the lump under Evie's shirt where the ring was, but didn't say anything.

"Welcome to the team, Everleigh," she said. "Your desk is in the back. The newbie corner."

Evie walked to the back. Kerry, a senior photographer with a reputation for eating assistants alive, looked her up and down.

"So you're the charity case," she sneered. "Heard you got in on a portfolio waiver."

"I got in on merit," Evie said, setting down her bag.

"We'll see," Kerry smirked. "Hope your skills are better than your outfit."

Evie sat down, ignoring her. She started organizing her lenses.

Suddenly, the studio door burst open. The owner, Mr. Henderson, ran in, sweating.

"Emergency! Miss Sterling is here early! She wants a portrait session now. But Marco is stuck in the Lincoln Tunnel!"

The room went silent. Miss Sterling. The heiress. The most difficult client in New York.

"I need a photographer!" Henderson yelled. "Who's free?"

No one moved. Everyone knew Sterling ate photographers for breakfast.

Evie stood up. Her legs were shaking, but her hands were steady.

"I'll do it," she said.

Kerry laughed. "You? The newbie? You'll destroy the studio's reputation in five minutes."

Evie looked at Henderson. "Give me ten minutes. If she hates it, you can fire me."

Henderson looked desperate. "Fine. You're up. Don't screw this up."

Miss Sterling was sitting in the makeup chair, scrolling through her phone with a look of profound boredom. She was beautiful in a sharp, icy way.

"You're the photographer?" she asked without looking up. "You look like an intern."

"I'm Everleigh," Evie said, checking the light meter. "And I'm going to take the best photo of you you've ever had."

Miss Sterling looked up then, raising an eyebrow. "Bold."

Evie walked over to the lighting rig. She noticed a cable was loose-Kerry had kicked it on her way out. She plugged it back in, shooting a glare at Kerry, who was watching from the shadows with a smirk.

Evie turned back to Miss Sterling. "The light is too harsh for your bone structure. We need to soften it."

Evie moved the softbox. She didn't ask for permission. She just worked.

"Chin down," she instructed. "Turn to the left. No, too much. There."

Evie stepped closer. She reached out and tucked a stray hair behind Miss Sterling's ear. Her fingers brushed her skin.

"Relax," Evie whispered. "Stop posing. Stop trying to look rich."

"Excuse me?" Miss Sterling bristled.

"I want you to think about someone," Evie said, lifting the camera. "Someone you want to impress. Not with your money, but with your soul."

Miss Sterling's expression changed. The ice melted. A softness entered her eyes, a vulnerability that transformed her face.

Click.

Evie took the shot.

"Got it," she said.

Ten minutes later, they were looking at the monitor. The photo was stunning. It wasn't just a portrait; it was a confession.

Miss Sterling stared at it. "I look... human."

"You look beautiful," Evie said.

"You're hired," Miss Sterling said, turning to Henderson. "She's my photographer now. Only her."

Henderson beamed, patting Evie on the back. Kerry looked like she had swallowed a lemon.

As Miss Sterling was leaving, she paused. "Do you know why I needed this photo?"

"Magazine cover?" Evie guessed.

"No," Miss Sterling sighed. "Matchmaking. My mother is trying to set me up with the Williams heir. Agustus Williams."

Evie's stomach dropped. That name again.

"The... tyrant?" she asked.

"The very one," Miss Sterling laughed. "Apparently, his mother, Victoria, loves art. She thinks a soulful portrait will convince her son to meet me. He's impossible. Picky. Cold."

"Good luck," Evie said, forcing a smile. Thank god I have Gus, she thought. My Gus is warm. My Gus buys me diamonds and protects me.

"Anyway," Sterling said. "I'm hosting a party tonight at the Obsidian Club. You should come. Bring a friend."

She handed Evie an invite and left.

Evie texted Illa. Party tonight?

Yes! Illa replied. Celebration!

Evie texted Gus. Can I go to a party tonight?

Obsidian Club? he replied.

How did you know?

I have eyes everywhere, he wrote. Go. Have fun. But behave.

Are you in London? she asked. Yes. But I'll be watching.

Evie touched the ring under her shirt. It felt like he was there with her.