Veil of Deception

Lyra's POV

The hum of the engine vibrates under my seat, as Alex taps his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel.

He throws me a sideways glance, that playful half-smirk tugging at his lips. "You want some music, or are you content sitting in silence, planning your next world takeover?"

I snort, rolling my eyes but not looking away from the window. "You pick. I'm good either way."

"World domination can wait for a bit," Alex teases, turning the dial to a random station.

We drive in silence for a while, the music filling the gaps between us, the city flashing by outside the window.

Ivory Square is a bustling commercial district, a place where the city's elite and middle-class blend in ways that make it feel both accessible and exclusive.Unlike the quiet exclusivity of Blackthorn Hills, this district is open and thrives on movement-glossy high-rises, luxury boutiques, and corporate buildings standing alongside trendy cafés and high-end department stores.

The car slows as we pull into the parking lot of the massive shopping mall, one of the busiest landmarks in Ivory Square.Its glass-paneled exterior reflects the city lights, while the spacious parking lot is filled with a mix of luxury cars and everyday vehicles.

Alex parks the car smoothly, his hands still on the wheel as he surveys the lot with a quick glance, like he's always scanning the surroundings, even in places as mundane as this.

He's out of the car before I even unbuckle my seatbelt, moving with a cold, effortless power. Alex has always been like this-dangerous, commanding. His presence is enough to silence a room, to make anyone think twice before crossing him. He doesn't need to raise his voice or make threats; a single look can end someone's life. The calmness he exudes is what makes him terrifying-he could kill with just a glance, no hesitation. But all of that power seems to fall away when he's by my side. He doesn't have to be ruthless with me. And maybe that's the difference. He doesn't have to be anything he's not.

I finally push open the door, the cool air hitting me immediately, and I step out of the car. Alex is already halfway to the entrance, one hand casually shoved in his pocket, the other holding his phone as he checks something.

"Come on, slowpoke," he calls over his shoulder, his voice carrying that teasing edge.

I can't help but smile, the corners of my mouth curling up. "I'm coming, don't get too far ahead," I call back, trying not to laugh.

Alex doesn't respond, but I know he's grinning. He always does, even when he's trying to act all serious.

☆_______________________________________☆

This isn't shopping. This is a full-scale operation.

At least, that's how Alex is treating it. His sharp eyes scan the racks like he's searching for a hidden weapon stash instead of a dress. And I trail behind him, like some helpless damsel in need of saving.

Spoiler alert: I'm not.

I actually like shopping. I have a good sense of style-better than most, thank you very much. But when Alex is involved, it stops being about fashion and becomes a mission. One where I apparently need to be "appropriately dressed" for this event, despite the fact that I already own an entire wardrobe of stunning options.

He flips through a row of gowns with the same critical intensity he uses when reviewing financial reports. "Too flashy. Too plain. Too much lace. Who even wears this color?"

I snort. "You do realize you're not the one wearing it, right?"

He doesn't look up. "Unfortunately, I do. Otherwise, this would be much easier."