Chapter 5: Public Appearance
1241words
I ran my fingers over the silky fabric. "It's beautiful, but I've never worn anything this fancy." The admission felt like confessing a weakness, another reminder of the gulf between Thorne's world and my own.
"The Blackwood Charity Gala is the social event of the season. Everyone who matters will be there." Finnegan's kind eyes met mine. "And it's your first public appearance as Mrs. Blackwood."
A week had passed since our awkward wedding, and Thorne and I had settled into a strange routine of polite avoidance. We were like two ghosts haunting the same mansion, occasionally crossing paths but never really connecting.
Until this morning, when he'd informed me over breakfast, our first shared meal, that we would be attending the gala tonight.
"Will Kieran be there?" I asked, slipping into the dress.
"Most likely. He sits on the board." Finnegan helped with the zipper. "But so will many potential investors who need to see Mr. Blackwood as... stable."
"As a happily married man," I translated.
"Precisely."
Three hours later, I descended the grand staircase, feeling like an imposter in my designer gown and borrowed jewelry. Each step was a silent prayer that I wouldn't trip, wouldn't reveal myself as the fraud I felt like
Thorne waited at the bottom, striking in a black tuxedo that made his blue eyes even more intense.
As I approached, his eyes tracked my descent, widening slightly. His hands gripped the armrests of his wheelchair tighter, and for a moment, he just stared at me, something unreadable flickering across his face—surprise, appreciation, and something deeper that made my skin warm.
"You look..." he started, then cleared his throat, composure momentarily fractured. A muscle worked in his jaw as he searched for words. "The dress suits you."
The understatement hung in the air between us, heavy with all the things he wouldn't say. I caught Finnegan hiding a smile as he busied himself with his tablet nearby.
"Thank you," I said, fighting a blush. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Shall we?"
In the limousine, Thorne briefed me on key people I would meet. "The Morgans are our biggest investors. The Chens are considering a partnership. And stay away from Harold Winters—he's Kieran's strongest ally on the board."
"Anything else I should know?" I asked, watching the city lights slide across his face through the tinted windows. In the intimate confines of the limousine, he seemed both closer and more distant.
Thorne hesitated. "Some people... they haven't seen me since the accident. They might stare. Say things."
I reached over and squeezed his hand impulsively, my fingers covering his. The contact was electric, unexpected. "Then we'll give them something better to talk about."
Surprise flashed across his face at my touch—not just at the gesture, but at the fierce protectiveness in my voice that had surprised even me. For a heartbeat, his fingers remained stiff under mine. Then, slowly, they relaxed, turning slightly to return the pressure. He didn't pull away.
The gala was held in a historic Boston hotel, all crystal chandeliers and old-world glamour. As we entered, I felt the weight of a hundred curious gazes.
"Thorne Blackwood," a silver-haired man approached us. "The prodigal CEO returns. And with a bride, no less."
"James," Thorne nodded coolly. "This is my wife, Lyra."
"Charmed," the man said, kissing my hand while his eyes assessed me like a commodity. "How did our mountain king manage to catch such a lovely creature?"
"He asked nicely," I replied with a sweet smile. "How did you manage that toupee? Spirit gum?"
Thorne made a choking sound that might have been suppressed laughter. The man's face reddened as he excused himself.
"That was James Winters, Harold's brother," Thorne murmured, his hand finding the small of my back. "And my new favorite moment of the evening."
Throughout the night, I watched Thorne transform. In public, he was charming, confident—almost the man from those old magazine covers. He navigated his wheelchair with grace, commanding respect with his presence alone.
But I noticed things others missed. The tightness around his eyes when someone spoke over him. The way his knuckles whitened on his armrests when people expressed surprise at his "condition."
"Such a shame," I overheard a woman whisper. "He was so athletic before. What a waste."
Before I could stop myself, I approached her. "Actually," I said, my voice carrying just enough to ensure those nearby could hear, "my husband's mind is his greatest asset. The company's value has increased forty percent under his leadership—most of that after his accident." I smiled, all teeth and warning. "The only waste I see is people underestimating him."
The woman flushed crimson as those nearby fell silent. Her eyes darted around, seeking escape from the sudden attention. I felt a strange satisfaction watching her discomfort—this woman who had reduced Thorne to nothing but his physical limitations.
"Making friends, darling?" Thorne appeared beside me, his voice rich with amusement. When I looked down at him, his eyes were dancing with something that looked almost like admiration—and beneath that, a vulnerability that made my heart twist. No one had defended him in a long time, I realized. He'd been fighting these battles alone.
"Just ensuring the record is straight," I replied, resting my hand on his shoulder. The gesture felt natural now, no longer the performance it had been at the start of the evening.
Later, as we sipped champagne in a quiet corner, Kieran found us.
"Playing happy couples, are we?" he sneered, alcohol making his words slightly too loud. His eyes, so similar to Thorne's yet lacking their depth, raked over me with possessive familiarity. "How much is he paying you to touch him, Lyra?"
Thorne's face hardened, but before he could respond, I laughed.
"Oh, Kieran," I said, letting every ounce of my contempt show. "Still bitter I upgraded?" I placed my hand on Thorne's shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath the expensive fabric. "My husband may be in a wheelchair, but he's twice the man you are in every way that matters."
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to Thorne's cheek, feeling him stiffen in surprise. "Isn't that right, darling?"
After a heartbeat, Thorne's arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer. "Absolutely, my love."
Kieran's face darkened. "The board votes next week. Enjoy playing house while you can."
As he stalked away, I realized I was still pressed against Thorne, his hand warm on my waist.
"That was... convincing," he said quietly.
"I meant every word," I replied, surprising myself with the truth of it.
In the limousine heading home, a comfortable silence settled between us. Finally, Thorne spoke.
"Thank you for tonight. You were... remarkable."
"I wasn't just defending you," I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty. "I was defending us." The word 'us' hung in the air between us, carrying more weight than it should have.
"We make a good team," I said softly, when he didn't respond.
He looked at me then, really looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. "Yes," he agreed. His hand moved across the leather seat, not quite touching mine but close enough that I could feel its warmth. "Perhaps we do."
