The Man I Shouldn't Want: A Game of Seduction and Lies

10. Lights, Cameras, and Chaos

I step out of the green room, running my hands down the fabric of my gown, trying to fix my look. I can't look like I was about to get laid backstage. The distant hum of the event feels like white noise, almost soothing compared to the whirlwind of the last few minutes. For a second, I let myself breathe, steadying the rush in my chest. But it’s short-lived. The moment I spot Meera hurrying toward me, her face a mask of disbelief, I know my brief escape is over.

“Nat?” Her voice is low, almost like she’s afraid I might disappear if she speaks too loudly. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you nonstop!” Her words are laced with both worry and frustration, but I can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips. She has no idea.

“I threw my phone in the bin,” I reply with a casual shrug, as if it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. “Didn’t feel like dealing with Mike tonight.”

Meera’s eyebrows shoot up as she stares at me, her eyes flicking down to the bouquet in my hands. Her surprise turns into curiosity. “Who are those from?” she asks, though I can hear the undercurrent of concern in her voice. “Please don’t tell me... it’s from him? The guy who took you away?”

A slow smirk spreads across my face. Just thinking about Ric sends a rush of heat through me. “It might be,” I tease, my voice light but my heart racing at the memory of our encounter.

Meera’s frown deepens, and I can see the worry in her eyes. She’s always been my buffer—my protector of sorts—but even she knows when to let things be. Instead of pushing, she sighs, glancing over her shoulder down the hallway. “Mike’s been looking for you everywhere,” she says, her voice dipping. “The red carpet’s packed. Most of the guests are here, and your dad told me to make sure you show up with Mike.”

The thought of being anywhere near Mike makes my skin crawl. I scoff, already walking past her. “That’s not happening,” I say, my tone firm. The idea of linking arms with him and pretending for the cameras—pretending like everything is fine, like our lives aren’t in shambles—makes me nauseous. “I’m not walking in with him.”

Meera scrambles to keep up, her heels clicking against the polished floor. “Then why are you even here?” she asks, confusion clear in her voice. Her brows furrow as she tries to make sense of my decision.

I pause for a second, blinking as the real answer flashes in my mind like a neon sign: I’m here for Ric. But I push the thought aside and meet her gaze. “I’ll do the red carpet,” I say, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “But I’m doing it alone.”

Meera opens her mouth to say something, but I don’t give her the chance. I’m already moving, the weight of the night pressing on me as I head toward the entrance. As soon as I step outside, the flashing lights from the cameras hit me, and for the first time in ages, I feel alive. The energy of the moment surrounds me, buzzing in the air.

The cameras snap incessantly, capturing my every move, and I stand taller, more confident. My gown—a shimmering, silver masterpiece that clings to every curve—catches the light just right, reflecting like I’m made of stardust. The stylist’s words echo in my mind, “You’re a star, Natalie. Own it.”

And I do. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like myself again. Not the shadow of a woman Mike tried to mold me into, but the real me. Confident. Free. Unapologetically me.

The paparazzi’s voices rise, shouting over one another, but I’m not paying attention until I hear the shift in their tone. The excitement in their voices changes, and I already know what — or rather, who — it’s about.

“Your husband!” one of them yells. “It’s your husband!”

I clench my jaw and turn, just as Mike strolls toward me, his perfectly charming smile plastered on his face. As if nothing is wrong. As if he hasn’t destroyed everything. Before I can react, his arm snakes around my waist, pulling me into his side.

My skin crawls under his touch, and I stiffen. “What the f**k is wrong with you?” I hiss, my voice low and laced with venom, making sure no one else can hear. The cameras keep flashing, and to anyone watching, we probably look like a perfectly poised couple, but the tension between us is boiling beneath the surface.

Mike tightens his grip, his fingers digging into my side as he keeps smiling for the cameras. “Calm down,” he murmurs through clenched teeth, his voice low but firm. “Just do what your father wants. Let’s fix this mess you made.”

His words hit me like a slap across the face. I made? The audacity makes my blood boil. “I actually thought we could be civil, Mike,” I whisper, my anger barely contained. “I thought we could handle this without tearing each other apart. But all you care about is your damn image.”

Before I can stop myself, I lift my hand and flip him off. Right there. In front of everyone. The cameras go wild, capturing the moment as I yank myself out of his grasp and storm off, leaving him standing there with that fake smile still on his face.