Chpater 2: Two Can Play This Game
The words coming from my mouth surprised even me with how natural they sounded.
Enzo displayed perfect social etiquette: "Pleasure to meet Isabella's friends." His smile held that Mediterranean warmth, the natural charm of Italian men that had all the women in the room stealing glances.
I observed everyone's reactions: Marcus's surprise, the undisguised envy in several female friends' eyes, and Sebastian... his expression cracked for just an instant.
"Oh my God, Isabella, you kept this so secret!" The woman in the Chanel suit nearly shrieked. "Is he a designer? Or a model?"
"Designer," Enzo answered before I could. "I specialize in haute couture."
As we prepared to sit down, I realized the power dynamics of the evening would be determined by something as simple as chair placement.
Enzo and I sat side by side, offering a perfect view of Sebastian and Scarlett without seeming deliberate.
I began introducing Enzo to everyone at the table. He performed like the perfect male companion—polite, attentive, showing appropriate interest. Tonight's focus should have been on me, but now everyone surrounded Enzo with questions.
"Which school did you study design at?" "Have you worked in Milan?" "Do you have your own studio?"
Enzo answered each question with composure, occasionally turning to look at me with that adoring gaze that made all the women present sigh with envy.
The woman in Chanel marveled, "Isabella, you really gave us a huge surprise coming back this time."
Her words carried subtle undertones.
"People have to move forward." My response was simple but sufficient to convey my attitude.
Just as I was beginning to think the evening might pass without major incident, Scarlett decided it was time for her show.
She suddenly leaned delicately toward Sebastian, her voice soft as cotton candy: "Sebastian, I'm a little tired..."
Sebastian immediately switched to protective mode: "What's wrong, baby? Was today's shoot too exhausting?"
"Last night's shoot was pretty tiring, but I'm fine." Scarlett said, forcing herself to perk up with a smile. "I'll just nap in the car later."
That smile was too familiar—it had once been my signature expression. Seeing it on another woman's face felt like someone had stolen my signature.
"Eat quickly, I'll take you home to rest." Sebastian's tone was so tender it reminded me of when we first got together.
People around started cheering: "Sebastian's so considerate!" "With such a beautiful girlfriend, of course you have to cherish her!"
Scarlett "shyly" buried her face in Sebastian's shoulder, the movement so practiced I wondered if she'd rehearsed it.
I felt some people secretly observing my reaction, waiting to see if I'd reveal any cracks.
Watching Sebastian treat Scarlett with the same tenderness he'd once shown me was like seeing a cheap copy of our relationship. The woman he now cherished was essentially still my shadow.
Was I really so easily replaceable?
But I couldn't let these emotions show. Elegance was my best weapon, composure my strongest defense.
When the menus arrived, I thought we might finally move past the awkwardness, but I was wrong about that too.
The man with the Cartier watch pushed a menu toward me: "Isabella, you choose. You have the most authority here."
I politely declined: "I'm not very familiar with this restaurant. Everyone order freely—dinner's on me tonight."
Sebastian said casually, "This is a members-only club. I'll put it on my account."
That breezy tone, like discussing something trivial. I remembered he'd always been like this, casually displaying his influence and wealth.
"Thanks then. Next time I'll host." I maintained a perfect smile.
Enzo picked up the menu and leaned close to my ear: "Bella, is this truffle risotto good?"
This intimate gesture instantly drew everyone's attention.
"Mm, it's excellent. Want to try it?" I deliberately maintained that intimate distance while answering.
"Let's order that then." He touched my hand while pointing at the menu.
The woman in Chanel couldn't help asking: "Is Enzo a bit younger than Isabella? You two are so sweet together."
"He's two years younger than me," I admitted openly. "Age has never been an issue."
The female friends began chattering about the benefits of dating younger men, completely shifting the conversation's focus. Enzo had coordinated perfectly with my needs.
Just as the atmosphere seemed to be settling into something manageable, the real cruelty of the evening revealed itself.
I heard low murmurs from the men's side of the table.
"Hired for acting, right?" "Definitely—just trying to provoke Sebastian..." "Thought she actually had a new relationship, turns out it's all for show." "Pretty thorough face-saving project."
These words were spoken quietly, but in this small private room, they still reached my ears clearly. I felt my cheeks flush—not from shame, but from anger.
They thought they were clever, thought I couldn't hear, thought their analysis was spot-on.
But what infuriated me most wasn't their malice—it was that they'd gotten part of it right.
Enzo truly wasn't my real boyfriend, at least not in the traditional sense. I truly was acting, truly trying to save face.
But so what?
I glanced at Enzo. He seemed to have heard those comments too, but only gently patted my hand, giving me a comforting look.
In that moment, I suddenly felt that maybe truth and falsehood didn't matter. What mattered was that I wouldn't let anyone look down on me—including myself. I straightened my spine and adjusted my posture. If they wanted a show, I'd give them a damn good one.
Ryan seemed to think his whispered commentary wasn't quite enough. He took a sip of wine, cleared his throat, and flicked his wrist, making his Cartier watch glint.
"Isabella, heard you've been quite busy lately," he drawled, his eyes ping-ponging between Enzo and me with predatory amusement. "Didn't know you had a thing for younger men."
Sebastian lounged diagonally across from us, that smirk I once found charming now making my stomach turn. He gave Enzo the kind of dismissive glance reserved for interns who'd brought the wrong coffee order.
Scarlett leaned into Sebastian, lowering her voice just enough to ensure everyone could hear: "Seb, are you into the whole cougar thing too?"
Her voice was sticky-sweet like expired macarons, reminding me of that time I got food poisoning in Paris as a kid.
Sebastian set down his fork with deliberate precision. "I've always been more traditional. Women who understand their role tend to work out better."
My hand tightened around the wine glass. Their role? The audacity of this man kept hitting new peaks. Like he'd forgotten who talked him through his quarter-life crisis when he thought he'd never make it past junior editor.
Enzo had been studying the menu like it held state secrets, but now he looked up with that easy Italian warmth. "You know what, sir?" He pointed at Ryan. "You should try the oyster soup. You look a little rough around the edges tonight."
Ryan blinked. "What?"