Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 171: The Eve [II]

The lights shifted.

A soft chime rang across the room, like wind through crystal. The music lowered to a hum. All around us, masked heads turned toward the grand stage where a spotlight now illuminated Mr. Johnson.

He stepped forward and the room fell into a reverent hush.

"Friends, partners, visionaries," Mr. Johnson’s voice boomed through invisible speakers, "Welcome to Eden Reimagined."

A wave of applause.

"Tonight isn’t just about elegance, illusion, or the thrill of temptation," he continued. "It’s about triumph. About the kind of vision that begins as an impossible dream and ends with golden gates thrown wide open."

He gestured toward the animated walls—where the evolution of the Johnson Mall played like a living storybook, glass facades blooming from scaffolding, gardens growing between steel. A time-lapse of ambition. A temple of commerce, now alive.

"This mall—this miracle—was a dream I held onto since I was a boy. I used to sketch towers on napkins, bore my mother to death with floor plans made of cereal boxes."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

"But like every dream worth chasing, it required more than just ideas. It needed precision. Strategy. Ruthlessness. And one particular partner."

A hush fell over the room, so complete it felt like a held breath. Every eye was on Mr. Johnson, but I could feel the invisible lines of inquiry already tracing their way through the crowd toward us.

Mr. Johnson’s gaze found ours across the sea of faces. He smiled. "A partner who doesn’t just fund dreams, but forges them into reality with cold, hard will. A man who sees the world not as it is, but as it should be, and has the audacity to build it."

He raised his glass. "Ladies and gentlemen, the architect of our future... Mr. Adrien Walton!"

The room erupted. It wasn’t just applause; it was a wave of pure, unadulterated respect. The sound was a physical force, washing over us. Adrien didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He simply lifted his champagne flute a fraction of an inch in a silent acknowledgment to Johnson, a king receiving tribute. My heart swelled with a fierce, possessive pride.

"Your leadership brought this vision to life," Mr. Johnson said. "And for that, I—and this entire city—thank you."

He raised his glass.

"To transformation."

"To the Johnson Mall."

"And to the night ahead." 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"Cheers."

The final word of the toast, "Cheers," hung in the air, punctuated by the collective clinking of a hundred crystal flutes.

Music swelled.

And just like that, the mood shifted. The performers spilled out like liquid gold across the marble floor—serpentine dancers in gilded silks, masks glinting under moody lights. A harpist plucked a haunting trap remix of "Toxic," and golden apples rolled out in silver bowls. The garden of temptation had bloomed.

"Quite the anointing," a smooth, condescending voice cut through the momentary lull.

A man had detached himself from a nearby group, gliding toward us. He was handsome in a predatory way, with slicked-back hair and a smile that didn’t reach his cold, assessing eyes. His mask was a polished silver jaguar, sleek and vicious.

Adrien’s posture didn’t change, but I felt the air around him crystallize. "Vance," he said, his tone flat. "I thought I smelled desperation."

The man, Vance, chuckled, undeterred. "Always a pleasure, Walton."

"Astonishing speech from Johnson. He didn’t give you nearly enough credit."

"He gave me exactly what was required, Vance," Adrien replied smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He gestured slightly with our joined hands. "Allow me to introduce my companion for the evening."

Vance’s eyes, visible through the mask’s slits, devoured me from head to toe, lingering on the necklace. "A pleasure," he boomed. "An absolute vision. You have a name, my dear? Or are we to call you ’Walton’s Mystery’ all night?"

Before I could even formulate a polite, non-committal response, Adrien’s thumb pressed into my knuckles, a silent signal. "She is a private woman," he said, his voice dropping into a register that was both charming and deeply territorial. "And I am a selfish man. Her name is mine to know, and her company is mine to keep."

Vance’s smile faltered for just a moment, his eyes narrowing as if calculating the subtle challenge in Adrien’s words. But his demeanor didn’t break, and he straightened, adjusting his silver jaguar mask with a smooth, practiced motion.

"Ah, Walton, always the man of mystery," he mused, his voice smooth but edged with something almost predatory. "But I suppose that’s what makes you so... intriguing."

I didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on Adrien’s hand around mine, his fingers tightening instinctively.

"Well, I won’t keep you," Vance said, turning on his heel as he scanned the crowd. "But the night is young. I’m sure you’ll find plenty to keep you occupied, Adrien. And you," he said, his voice slithering toward me again, "Enjoy the mystery. It suits you."

I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Clara stepped closer. "Charming," she muttered under her breath, watching Vance disappear into the crowd. "In the way snakes are charming right before they strike."

Adrien didn’t respond. His eyes were still cold, watching the spot where Vance had stood—until Clara’s voice shifted, light and bright.

"So," she said, turning to Adrien with a glint in her eye, "you promised to introduce me to some people. The ones you said I should ’be seen by’ if I want to start building real credibility in this field. Remember?"

Adrien blinked, then smiled faintly. "Right, thank you for reminding me." He gave her a quick nod, then turned to me, his expression shifting to something gentler.

"Are you going to be okay by yourself for a bit?" he asked, his voice soft.

I smiled up at him, nodding. "I’ll be fine. Go do your thing."

Adrien leaned down, placing a tender kiss on my forehead. Then he lingered—just enough to murmur against my skin, "I’ll be back soon. And I’ll have someone bring you a few of those things you’ve been eyeing like you’re planning a heist."

"I wasn’t eyeing!" I protested, hitting his arm lightly.

He chuckled, brushing a lock of hair from my face. "Yes, you are. I’ll be back, princess."

And with that, he offered his arm to Clara. She took it, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable.

The two of them began to move through the crowd—Adrien tall and commanding, Clara elegant and sharp at his side. I watched them go for a moment, then turned to take in the Eden around me.

The serpents danced, the lights pulsed like a living heartbeat, and somewhere in the distance, a server approached—tray glittering with gold-dusted sweets.

The first tray arrived just as promised—stacked high with glimmering, miniature confections. Fruit tarts with gold-dusted berries. Chocolate truffles sculpted into apple shapes. Candied citrus slices coiled like snakes.

I took one of the tarts—tiny, jewel-toned, and almost too pretty to eat—and popped it into my mouth.

Oh.

I nearly moaned.

It was ridiculous. Bright and buttery and tart all at once, with a flaky crust that melted the moment it hit my tongue. The second one was worse. Or better. I didn’t know anymore. I was floating.

The music. The lights. The swirl of silk and smoke around me—it all felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake from.

As I licked a smudge of gold from my thumb, another server appeared, this time carrying a tray of crystal flutes filled with shimmering golden liquid.

"Something golden for you, ma’am," he said, offering a bow and a smile too perfect to trust. His eyes never really met mine.

"The Temptress," he added smoothly. "Signature of the evening."

I hesitated for half a beat.

But the drink sparkled like a secret.

And everyone around me already had one in hand.

So I reached for it. "Thank you," I said softly.

The server nodded and moved on without another word.

I brought the glass to my lips. The scent hit first—champagne, elderflower, something citrusy and bright. I took a small sip.

Cool. Effervescent and light.

Delicious.

I licked the corner of my mouth, smiling faintly. "Okay," I murmured to no one in particular, "I get the hype."