Elias' POV

As Clark and I enter the grand ballroom, I'm left speechless.

Ava's commitment to making this the best retreat ever must not have come with a budget, because she once again went all out to impress.

Crystal chandeliers that look like raindrops hang from the ceiling, and the walls are decorated with intricate gold detailing. The space is already filled with the other couples dressed to the nines, their laughter and chatter mingling with the soft music playing in the background.

It makes me look at Clark again, my breath catching in my throat. He looks good enough to eat in his tailored black suit, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders and trim waist. His chestnut hair is perfectly styled, and how the light highlights the chiseled planes of his face is just chef's kiss.

I'd like to think I cleaned up nicely as well, but most of the stares we receive in passing linger primarily on Clark. He really knows how to own a room without even trying.

"Oh, we have to do that!" I exclaim as we make our way further into the room, a bright flash catching my eye. There's a photo booth nestled in the corner with a box of colorful props sitting beside it. "It'll be fun. What do you think?"

"It's a bit childish, isn't it?"

"No! It'll be nice to have something to remember this week by."

He hesitates for a moment, but then a soft smile touches his lips. "Okay. You win."

God bless whoever he ends up with in life, because this guy will probably spoil you to death if you let him.

"Come, come!" I drag him over to the empty booth and step inside, the curtain falling shut behind us. The confined space is intimate, making us both very aware of how close we're sitting. "Let's start with a few goofy shots."

"You're lucky you've grown on me," he says, passing me a feather boa. "I wouldn't be sitting here otherwise."

I laugh. "Shut up. I know you're secretly enjoying this almost as much as I am."

With Clark donning oversized sunglasses, our laughter quickly engulfs the small space as we begin to pose for the camera.

After a few flashes, I lean into him. Our comfort level with each other is there, natural, as if we've known each other for years and years. His hand brushes mine as he reaches over me to grab a plastic sword from the box, his personality showing more of itself.

In no time, we both get lost in the moment.

"One more?" Clark asks.

"Yeah. My left leg is catching a cramp," I laugh.

For the last picture, I switch it up and rest my head on Clark's shoulder. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then he relaxes and wraps his arm around my shoulders. We stare into the camera for the last flash, no props on, just us. And it's easy for me to forget why we're here. For a part of me to pretend that this is real, and we're not together because of some business arrangement.

"I'm keeping the pics!" I rush out of the booth as they're printing and snatch them up. "Oh, damn." They came out better than I was expecting. "We do look good together. Look."

Clark examines the pictures beside me, chuckling softly. "Can't believe you made me do this."

"I didn't make you do anything. But you clearly had fun. Look how big you're smiling." I playfully nudge him in the side before pocketing the pictures. "Should we grab something to drink? Or do you want to take more pics?"

"Let's go to the bar." He rolls his eyes and laughs me off while heading toward the bar.

I follow behind him, the pictures in my pocket feeling heavier than I know they are. It's stupid, really, to feel a bit sad that we're returning to our lives in a few days. No more fake romancing. No more excuses to touch. I'm genuinely surprised with myself for holding out for this long.

"You pick for me," I tell Clark after we're seated at the bar. "You're more experienced than I am."

"In that case." He scans the menu hanging above the bar, focused. "I think you might like the—" His cell phone rings in his pocket. "Shit."

"Shame on you," I tease, shaking my head. "Couldn't leave it in the room for one night?"

"I know. Sorry, but I have to take this." He gives me an apologetic smile while backing away, phone in hand. "Order the Pommeau! I'll be right back."

I turn to the bartender and place my order.

With no phone to keep me company, I look around the room and study the other couples. All of them seem genuinely in love with each other. It's wild how Clark and I have been able to fool everyone here. A real testament to our chemistry.

"What's your name, handsome?"

Who the fuck... I spin around to see a waiter not doing his job. A knockoff Tom Holland if I've ever seen one. I smile politely, but don't acknowledge him. Hoping he picks up the hint and gets back to doing what he's paid to do.

He doesn't, though.

"Who are you here with?" he asks, eyes raking over my body. "I noticed everyone is paired up except for you."

"You're wrong." I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to put some distance between us. "I'm actually here with someone, and I'm not interested in cheating on them. So you can chill out."

The waiter leans in closer, undeterred. His hand slides down my arm, and I flinch at the unwanted contact.

"I don't see him around," he purrs. "How about we—"

"Did he give you permission to touch him?" Clark's voice cuts through the air like a knife, cold and sharp. "Is there a problem here, Elias?"

"Yes," I reply.

"No! N-no, sir." The waiter goes pale, taking a step back. "I was just—"

"Leaving," Clark finishes, his eyes narrowed as he moves closer to stand between me and the waiter. "I'm not above speaking to the host and getting you fired for harassing their guests who are obviously not interested." He lowers his voice to a point not even I have heard before, and a different kind of tingle shoots down my back. "Touch or talk to my guy again, and finding employment in this city will be the least of your worries. Now fuck off."

The waiter scurries off like someone had called the cops on him. I let out a shaky breath, my heart pounding in my chest for all the wrong reasons because—

"That was very hot of you," I blurt out.

"Are you okay?" Clark asks softly at the same time, his hand finding the small of my back. "Wait. What did you just say?"

"Nothing!" Why did I say that out loud?! "I said nothing."

He laughs. "Liar."

Just then, the music shifts to a slow, romantic melody. I use the moment to pull myself out of the hot seat by sliding off my chair and grabbing Clark by the hand, leading him to the dance floor.

"Dance with me?" I ask with a smile. "You said you have rhythm, right?"

"I do."

"So prove it, Mr. Ashford."

We hit the floor and join a few of the other couples.

I let Clark take the lead. He slips an arm around my waist, the other clasping my hand as we begin to sway to the beat. His presence is warm and inviting, body firm against mine, radiating a sense of security I'm not used to but have grown to appreciate. Every now and then, our eyes meet—a silent conversation transpiring under the dim lights.

It's intimate in a way that makes me want to explore him further, makes me want to push our boundaries out of the way and just do something reckless.

"Okay. I have to admit," I murmur, a playful smile forming. "Maybe you weren't lying about having a little rhythm."

"One thing I don't need to lie about it." He chuckles and spins me out. I laugh until he tugs me back in and I find myself even closer to him than I was before, my chest pressed against his.

But then the spell is once again broken, but this time, by the sound of Ava's voice. Clark and I turn to see her standing beside us, a bright smile on her face.

"I hate to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know that I left something for you in your room, Clark."

"What is it?" His brows furrow in confusion. "Something good, I hope."

"Very good," she says. "My door is temporarily open for Project Terra. So I left you my revisions to the presentation you made. It's nothing you and your team have to follow, but I hope you consider my notes. And if you do, I'd be delighted to speak with you further."

"Oh." Clark's eyes widen, and I can practically feel the excitement thrumming through his body. "Thank you, Ava. I appreciate it, and I'll reach out ASAP."

"No problem. Take your time." She nods, then winks at me. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, gentlemen."

As she walks away, I whisper to Clark, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh my God! It sounds like she's seriously considering moving forward with Project Terra, right?"

"It does," he says, matching my grin. "I'm starting to think this trip wasn't a waste after all."

Me too. So, maybe...

In a moment of defiance against everything that we've been telling ourselves to abide by, I take a deep breath and decide to say fuck it and be reckless.

"Hey, I was thinking...what if we didn't end things here?"

"What do you mean?" Clark's eyes search mine, a glimmer of surprise and something else I can't quite decipher crossing his face. "Our ruse?"

"Yes." I bite my lip, nerves rising. "What if we extended our arrangement beyond the retreat?"