As I stood in front of the full-length mirror in our suite, I meticulously applied the final touches to my makeup. 

The deep emerald green gown I wore shimmered with every movement, its intricate beadwork catching the light and adding a touch of magic to my appearance. 

I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the evening ahead.

Lucien walked into the room, adjusting the cuffs of his tuxedo with an effortless grace that made my heart skip a beat. 

His presence was commanding, filling the space with an aura of power that was impossible to ignore. 

The way his blonde hair was neatly styled only accentuated the chiseled features of his face, making him look both polished and devastatingly handsome. 

His eyes, sharp and intense, swept over me, and for a moment, I felt pinned under the weight of his gaze. 

When a rare smile tugged at his lips, it was like a crack in his usual armor, revealing a side of him that sent a shiver down my spine. 

He was the embodiment of everything I found irresistibly alluring—strong, confident, and devastatingly attractive.

"You look stunning, Serafina," he said, his voice soft.

"Thank you," I replied, feeling a warmth spread through me at his compliment. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

He chuckled, a sound that was both comforting and rare. "Ready to charm the world's most dangerous people?"

I nodded, the weight of our roles settling on my shoulders. "Let's do this."

We left our suite and made our way to the grand ballroom. 

The venue was opulent, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and elegant decorations adorning every corner. 

As we entered, all eyes turned towards us. It was showtime.

The ballroom was a whirl of activity, filled with men and women in luxurious attire, their conversations a low murmur of power and intrigue. 

Lucien and I walked through the crowd, our hands entwined, projecting the image of a deeply in-love, newlywed couple.

First, we approached Dante Moretti, my distant uncle from Italy. His silver hair and piercing blue eyes gave him an air of authority. He greeted us warmly.

"Ah, Lucien! Serafina! Congratulations on your marriage," he said, his Italian accent thick. "You two make a formidable pair."

"Thank you, Don Dante," Lucien replied smoothly. "It's an honor to see you here."

"And you, my dear," uncle Dante said, turning to me. "How are you finding married life?"

I smiled sweetly. "It's an adventure, zio. Every day is a new challenge."

Next, we encountered Amara Bashar , the Arab Mafia princess. She was tall, in a yellow evening gown with a vision of elegance and simplicity. 

Crafted from soft, flowing fabric, it draped gracefully over her figure, emphasizing her silhouette without clinging too tightly. 

The gown featured a high neckline that added a touch of modesty, while the sleeves gently brushed her shoulders, leaving just a hint of skin exposed. 

The bodice was delicately rushed, drawing attention to the waist before the skirt cascaded down in gentle pleats, creating a subtle, flowing movement with every step.

She was covered in gold and jewels with a haughty expression. 

She looked me up and down, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Well, if it isn't Lucien and his lovely wife," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I've heard so much about you, Serafina."

I met her gaze head-on. "All good things, I hope."

She smirked. "Of course. Lucien, you certainly have a taste for strong women."

I smiled, not missing a beat. "And he deserves nothing but the best."

We moved on, meeting various other leaders from different syndicates. 

Each conversation was a delicate dance of power and diplomacy. 

As we navigated the room, I couldn't help but notice the glances Lucien received from other women. 

Their jealousy was palpable.

One particularly bold mafia princess, Isabella Martinez from the Spanish cartel, approached us with a sly smile. She was beautiful, with dark, flowing hair and an air of confidence.

"Lucien, it's been too long," she purred, ignoring me entirely. "Why don't we catch up sometime?"

I stepped closer to him, intertwining my fingers with his. "Oh, Isabella, I'm sure you're just itching to relive the glory days. But tonight's a little too glamorous for a nostalgia trip. Maybe try me again when I'm less occupied."

She glared at me, her smile faltering. "Ohh, enjoy the night then, both of you. I see you sometime again... alone perhaps."

Give me the gun. Give me the gun. Give me the gun.

She glared at me, her smile faltering. As she turned away, I accidentally spilled my glass of red wine, a splash landing conspicuously on Isabella's pristine white dress.

"Oh, merde!" I exclaimed with faux innocence. "It seems even the wine wants to be part of the conversation."

Finally, we made our way to Dmitri Korolyov Ivanov, the head of the Russian mafia. His icy blue eyes were calculating, and his presence exuded danger. He greeted us with a mocking smile.

"Lucien, Serafina," he said, his voice cold. "I've heard about your little escapade with the us. Bold move."

Lucien returned his smile with one of his own. "We like to keep things interesting, Dim Dim."

Dmitri's gaze shifted to me. "And you, Serafina. How does it feel to be the center of attention?"

I met his gaze evenly. "It's nothing new, Dmitri. I've always been in the spotlight."

He chuckled darkly. "I hope you can handle the pressure. It's only going to get more intense from here."

Lucien's expression hardened. "Don't worry about my wife. She's more capable than you realize."

Dmitri's eyes glittered with amusement. "We'll see. Enjoy the ball, you two."

As we walked away, Lucien leaned in and whispered, "He's going to regret underestimating us."

I nodded, my resolve strengthening. "Let's give him a show he'll never forget."

The night continued, and Lucien and I took to the dance floor. 

The music was slow and romantic, the perfect backdrop for our charade. 

As we moved together, our bodies close, I could feel the tension between us. It was supposed to be an act, but there was something real in the way he held me.

"You dance well," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked. "I had a good teacher."

We continued to dance, the world around us fading away. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of us, lost in the music and the rhythm of our movements. 

His touch was gentle yet firm, and I found myself drawn to him in a way I hadn't expected.

As the song ended, He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Remember, Perle, this is all part of the plan."

I nodded, but my heart was racing. 

I know. But I want this to be more than just plan.

I want to believe there's something real in this tangled mess we're creating. 

Can't we let it be more than just strategy for once?

We left the dance floor, the spell broken, but the memory of our dance lingered. The night continued with more conversations and subtle power plays.

***

The night was far from over. Lucien and I continued to make our rounds, each interaction carefully crafted to strengthen our alliances and assert our dominance.

As we approached another group, I recognized Don Ricardo, the influential leader of the Mexican cartel. Known for his brutal efficiency and strategic mind, he was someone we needed on our side.

"Don Ricardo," Lucien greeted warmly, extending his hand. "It's good to see you."

Ricardo took his hand and shook it firmly. "Lucien, Serafina," he said, his deep voice resonating. "Congratulations on your marriage. A powerful union indeed."

"Thank you, Don Ricardo," I replied with a polite smile. "We are honored to have your presence here tonight."

He nodded, his sharp eyes assessing us. "I trust this alliance will bring prosperity to all involved."

"That is our intention," Lucien affirmed. "Strong alliances are the backbone of our operations."

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Akira Tanaka, the head of the Yakuza. 

His presence was commanding, and his reputation for ruthlessness was well-known.

"Good evening," Akira said, his voice smooth and easy. "Oh, the newly wedded Beauchene couple. I trust you are enjoying the ball?"

"Indeed, Mr. Tanaka," Cyrill replied, inclining his head slightly. "It is an honor to have you here."

Akira's gaze shifted to me, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Serafina, I have heard much about your capabilities. Impressive for someone so young."

I met his gaze steadily. "Thank you, Mr. Tanaka. I believe in making an impact, regardless of age."

He smiled faintly. "A commendable approach. I look forward to seeing more of what you can achieve."

As we moved on, I felt a sense of satisfaction. Each interaction solidified our position, and our presence here was making waves.

We were approached by another group, this time led by Khalid al-Farsi, the powerful leader of a Middle Eastern syndicate. 

His reputation for intelligence and cunning made him a formidable ally.

"Khalid," Lucien greeted, shaking his hand. "It's been a while."

"Indeed, Lucien," Khalid replied, his eyes sharp. "And I see you have a new partner. Serafina, is it?"

"Yes, this is my wife, Serafina" Lucien said, offering a polite smile. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Khalid.", smiled.

He studied me for a moment before nodding. "The pleasure is mine. I have heard much about your abilities. A valuable asset to the Beauchene family, no doubt."

"Thank you," I said, my smile never faltering. "We aim to be the best."

Our conversation was interrupted by a loud crash from the other side of the room. Everyone turned to see a group of Russian mafiosos causing a commotion. 

Mikhail Korolyov, eldest son of Dimitri Korolyov was at the center of it, his mocking laughter carrying across the room.

"Looks like the Russians are making their presence known," Khalid remarked, his tone dry.

Lucien's expression hardened. "Excuse us, Khalid. We have something to attend to."

We made our way toward the Russians, our presence immediately drawing their attention. Mikhail's eyes lit up with amusement as he saw us approach.

"Ah, Serafina and Lucien," he said, a mocking smile on his lips. "Come to join the fun?"

"I see you're enjoying yourself, Mikhail," Lucien said, his tone cold. "But perhaps you should remember where you are."

Mikhail chuckled darkly. "Oh, I remember. Just thought I'd liven things up a bit."

I stepped forward, my gaze fixed on Mikhail. "Livening things up is one thing. Disrespecting our host is another."

He smirked, his eyes glinting with malice. "And what are you going to do about it, little girl?"

Without missing a beat, I stepped closer, my voice low and dangerous. "Why don't you find out?"

I reached up and, with a swift, practiced motion, pulled a dagger from the concealed sheath strapped to my thigh. 

Before he could react, I had the tip of the blade pressed against his throat.

The room fell silent, all eyes on us.

Mikhail's expression shifted from shock to rage. "You dare—"

"I dare," I interrupted, my voice steady and cold. "Consider this a reminder of who you're dealing with. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

Lucien stepped closer, his presence a wall of support behind me. "Mikhail, I suggest you remember your place. This isn't Russia, and your father's reputation won't protect you here."

"Consider it a warning," I said, my voice steady and firm. "The next time you cause a scene at an event hosted by allies, the consequences will be far more severe."

Mikhail's fists clenched, but he knew better than to escalate the situation further. With a final glare, he muttered something under his breath and stormed off, his entourage quickly following.

As the tension in the room began to ease, I felt a surge of triumph. 

The respect in the eyes of the surrounding guests was palpable. Lucien leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear.

"Well done," he murmured. "You handled that perfectly."

We continued our rounds, meeting more influential figures and cementing our presence at the ball. 

Despite the undercurrents of danger, the evening had a strange sense of normalcy, a façade we maintained for the sake of our alliances.

Eventually, the night drew to a close. 

As Lucien and I shared a final dance, the façade of our relationship felt more real than ever. 

The weight of the evening's events hung over us, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we were on the brink of something significant.

In that moment, with his hand in mine and the music swirling around us, I realized that our bond—no matter how much of it was for show—was growing stronger. And in our world, that was both a weapon and a shield.

We headed toward the exit, but not before being intercepted by Julia Sinclair , a striking woman of the American Mafia. 

She was tall and elegant, with an aura of authority that demanded attention.

"Serafina, Lucien," she greeted, her voice smooth and melodic. "What a captivating performance tonight."

"Thank you, Julia," I replied, matching her composed demeanor. "It's always a pleasure to see you."

Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "I must say, Serafina, your handling of Mikhail was... impressive."

I smiled, inclining my head slightly. "Sometimes, a direct approach is the most effective."

Sinclair lady laughed softly. "Indeed. It seems you and Lucien make quite the formidable team."

"We do our best," Lucien said, his arm still around my waist.

Julia's gaze lingered on us for a moment longer before she nodded. "Well, I look forward to seeing what else you two can achieve together. Until next time."

As we walked away, I felt a mix of relief and pride. The night had been a test, and we had passed with flying colors. 

But I knew better than to let my guard down. In our world, there was always another challenge on the horizon.

We stepped outside into the cool night air, the sounds of the ball fading behind us. 

Our car was waiting, and as we slid into the backseat, I felt the weight of the evening lift slightly.

Lucien leaned back, his eyes meeting mine. "You were incredible tonight, Perle."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the rush of warmth his words brought. "We make a good team."

God, only he can do this to me. Moments ago I was ready to rip that Russian, and now I am blushing at his words like a little girl.

"We do," he agreed, his gaze softening. "And tonight proved that."

The drive to our hotel was quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts. The city lights flickered past, a blur of color against the darkness. 

When we finally arrived, the exhaustion of the night hit me all at once.

He helped me out of the car, his touch gentle yet firm. I walked barefoot with the heels in my hand. 

My feet can't take it anymore.

As we entered the hotel, the opulence and quiet elegance of the place enveloped us.

Without missing a beat, Lucien swept me up over his shoulder, holding my sandals in one hand.

 "These heels must be torture," he teased, his voice low and playful. "Why don't I make it up to you? I'll carry you the rest of the way. It's the least I can do for my stunning wife."

I laughed softly, enjoying the intimate gesture. "And here I thought you were just showing off," I quipped, snuggling closer. "But I suppose I can't argue with a personal chauffeur."

 We made our way to our suite, the door closing behind us with a soft click.

He threw my heels on the floor and me on the bed, sighing in relief. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to collapse."

I chuckled. "I won't argue with that."

As we prepared for bed, the events of the evening replayed in my mind. 

The ball had been a success, but I couldn't ignore the underlying tension. 

Our world was a constant balancing act, and tonight was just another step in a much larger game.

Lucien pulled back the covers, and we slipped into bed. The intimacy of the moment was comforting, even if it was part of our façade. 

Sometimes I wish I could wake up next to him every day, feeling his warmth during the night. 

It would make everything seem just right.

If only I hadn't bought Eleanor... 

But then again, I wouldn't have seen this smile, this satisfaction, the peace, and his famous grin on his handsome face. 

He is incomplete without Eleanor, and I saw that during the wedding preparations.

As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, I felt his hand find mine under the sheets. 

"Goodnight, Serafina," he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

"Goodnight, Lucy," I replied, squeezing his hand gently.