Page 61 of Broken Blades

I was collateral. A tool. A means to an end.

The flutter in my chest died instantly. Replaced by something heavier. More familiar. Resentment.

"Right." I pushed away from the table. "Let me know what outfit works best for tomorrow's performance."

Sarcasm dripped from every word. Sharp enough to draw blood if he'd cared enough to feel it.

He didn't look up from his phone. "Something that photographs well in low light. We're going upscale."

I stared at him. Waited for any sign he understood how dehumanizing this felt.

Nothing.

Just Wyatt. Controlled. Strategic. Already three steps ahead of whatever game we were playing.

"I'll be in my room."

"Our first official Instagram post goes live in an hour."

I froze halfway to the stairs. "What?"

"Check your email. I sent you the photo for approval."

My stomach dropped. "You're posting⁠—"

"We're posting." He finally looked up. Expression unreadable. "Together. Like a couple."

I sat upright so fast the chair scraped against the hardwood. The sound echoed through his too-quiet house. "You could at least pretend to care that this is… awful for me."

Wyatt took a slow sip of water. Deliberately slow. Like he had all the time in the world to consider my distress and decided it wasn't urgent.

He set the glass down with precise care. "If I start pretending, it'll get messy."

My jaw dropped. "You're impossible."

"And you're dramatic."

Heat flooded my face. Actual indignation burned through my chest. "Excuse me?! I am not dramatic."

"You just declared war on a croissant when we walked into the cafe."

I sputtered. Actually sputtered like some Victorian lady who'd been mortally offended. "It crumbled aggressively!"

His mouth curved. Not the controlled, calculated expression he usually wore. An actual smirk. Real amusement flickering in those dark eyes.

"Sure."

The single word dripped with skepticism. Mocking. Teasing in a way that made my skin prickle with awareness I absolutely refused to name.

I crossed my arms. Fully annoyed. Fully flustered. Completely thrown off balance by the shift in his demeanor.

"You're enjoying this."

"A little." He didn't even have the decency to deny it.

"I knew it." I jabbed a finger in his direction. "From the beginning. You've been getting some sick satisfaction out of⁠—"

He leaned forward slightly. Not aggressive. Not threatening. Just… closer. Close enough I felt the shift in air between us. Close enough my breath caught without permission. "You're getting used to me."