Shanya could only watch as Purity turned fully to face her again.

"Shanya, please, place your hand on your engagement ring and repeat after me, "I, Shanya—"

Shanya fought against the urge to roll her eyes as she did as she was told, looking at Purity with a look that would've humbled giants.

"I, Shanya—"

"—hereby promise, to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me tequila."

When Shanya had recited all that rubbish, proud of herself for not even batting an eyelash, Purity continued, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I spoke to Paris a couple of days back and asked him questions about your life together. If you guess what he said correctly, you'll earn a point, if you score enough points, you'll win a prize. If you fail, you'll have to wear whatever everyone in this room decides you should."

There were smiles and giggles spreading across everyone's faces as Shanya nodded hesitantly. Her gaze met that of Paris. He had the largest grin amongst the crowd.

Maybe I can kill him twice.

"I asked your fiancee what he thought was your most attractive feature," Purity was saying, as she read from a nicely decorated piece of paper. "Did he say, a) your eyes, b) your lips, or c) your ass?"

Shanya swallowed hard as people giggled around her, their curious faces waiting for her answer. If she tanked the first question, they'd no doubt die of laughter.

"Uh, my eyes?"

Purity shook her head and imitated a buzzer. "Your lips."

The crowd erupted into a symphony of ous and naughty whistles as Shanya felt her face heat up. Before she could blink, Purity had another question for her.

"What's one thing Paris thinks you should take a class in? a) -"

"Cooking," Shanya butted in quickly.

A quiet hush fell on the crowd and she added, "I really suck at it. It's a good thing I found someone who doesn't really give a damn about the nonsense I make or else I'd have had to adopt cats and be the crazy cat lady."

A ripple of laughter flowed through the crowd and Shanya laughed too.

Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * * *

The questions that followed were pretty breezy, ranging from cheeky to downright personal and intrusive. Shanya felt her cheeks inflame a number of times. Especially when she was asked what sex position was Paris's favorite.

But the crowd was happy and entertained and it was all she could do to indulge them.

There had been only ten questions, six of which she'd answered correctly.

In the end, she'd gotten a flimsy tiara for all her efforts. Regardless, she had to give Purity credit for the starling questions that only sought to convince everyone around them of she and Paris's supposed relationship. The game was a wise choice.

Grateful it was over, Shanya walked through the dispersing crowd as Paris sauntered over to her, a huge grin on his face. She considered using her tiara to jab his pretty neck.

"So you find my lips to be my most attractive feature, huh?"

Paris chuckled as he slipped his hand into hers and as he did so, the barest touch of his skin against hers roused flares of fire against her flesh. Leaning in her ears, he whispered, "That was for the benefit of the crowd. You were right. It's your eyes. But your lips are a close second."

She nearly faltered in her steps. It was one thing to pretend to flirt and an entirely different thing to flirt outright. Or to look at her the way he was doing now.

Paris led her with grace to the center of the room. "I think my dad has taken a shine to you. In fact, I think every single person in this room has taken a shine to you."

Shanya tsked. "Not your mother, apparently. She's immune to my charms."

He shrugged, unconvinced. "My mum casts a warm light on those she trusts and a cold blanket on those she doesn't. It's only a matter of time."

Time. Did they even have that?

She clammed down hard on the emotions that threatened to burst inside of her as she tried her darndest not to get lost in those grey eyes. If he thought he was going to sweet talk his way out of getting away with what he pulled, he needed to think again.

She flared her nose at him. "I cannot believe you threw me to the wolves like that. Unprepared. It didn't occur to you to warn me about it when you called earlier? Is there no limit to your arrogance?"

The amusement in his eyes only annoyed her further as he chuckled softly, his hand resting on the small of her back. "None whatsoever. And I don't know why you're complaining. You're a vision in that tiara."

She glared at him, fighting the urge to kick him in the shin. This close, she could smell the champagne on his breath. The subtle fragrance mingled with his apple scent was exhilarating as the twinkle in his eyes and the slight tease of his mouth made him all the more charming. Soon, the memories of the night he was sick washed through her again and before she realized it, she was lifting her hand to his chest, feeling the subtle beat of his heart. His warmth travelled down her fingertips to the depths of her stomach. His amazing apple scent filled her nostrils as she leaned in closer, needing to smell more of him, be wrapped up in the warmth emanating from him.

It was like all sense left her. But not the ability to hear as she soon realized the song, Kiss me by Ed Sheeran had started to play and the entire room fell into a hush.

Great.

She looked around her. All eyes were fixated on them, she could literally smell their anticipation.

"I think they want us to dance," Paris whispered.

"I think they want us to do more than that," she replied, turning to face him. Even the damn song wanted them to do more than that.

Her brown eyes searched his beautiful grey eyes and she stopped short at the utter intensity in them, the hunger, as the music flared around them.

.....I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet

And with a feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now

Kiss me like you wanna be loved.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

"Kiss her, you idiot!" Someone shouted, and she was pretty sure that someone was Purity.

Another shameless human whose voice was unfamiliar howled even louder; "KISS HER!"

Soon, the whole room erupted in the chant; "Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!"

Shanya held Paris's gaze while gnawing on her lower lip, her heart beating thunderously within her.

"We didn't practice this."

There was something in his eyes that almost resembled torture. Something that made the music around them fade far, far away. Before she could protest, before she could even blink, he covered her mouth with his, the kiss tentative and explorative as if savoring every inch of her mouth. He guided her closer to him with his hand that remained at the small of her back and brought his free hand to her cheek, deepening the kiss, begging her to open her mouth and let him in. She did and when his tongue invaded her welcoming mouth, she moaned as her head swam with the kiss and she reveled in the feel of his hard, lean body against hers.

It was the champagne, she told herself. The stupid champagne she'd drank. But as he engaged her lips over and over again, his expert mouth worshipping every corner that was hers, it occurred to her that maybe it was more about the man than the drink.

He moaned into her mouth. A soft moan that had her feeling a maddening sense of pleasure as her toes curled and the whole room became a blur.

Yes, it was definitely the man. She gave herself over to the dizzying kiss, enjoying every stroke, every tease, every growing rhythm as everyone transformed into mere shadows on the wall.

When they slowly pulled away from each other, her lips ached and her heart sank at the loss of his warm lips.

Then she remembered where they were. And what she was. To him.

It was the look on his face that made it clear to her that what they'd just done was wrong in every sense of the word.

They stared at each other as everyone around them cheered, rushing towards them, clapping and tapping their shoulders in congratulations. She broke away first, looking towards the smiling faces of the crowd that surrounded them. And she suddenly felt sick.

She was lying to these people. Lying to their faces. And she hated it, hated what she was doing, hated standing here, sucking up on their misled affections. She didn't deserve their smiles, or their kindness, or their praises. They had been so nice to her but this was all just a lie. She was a fraud. A liar and a fraud. And they would hate her when they found out.

Out. She needed to get out. Slowly, she meandered her way through the crowd, not bothering to look back at Paris as she fled out, embracing the chilly air. She held her stomach tightly and shut her eyes, trying to ignore the fervent beat of her traitorous heart.

She had feelings for Paris. Strong feelings. And judging by the look on his face, he had feelings for her too. This was all wrong. All so horribly wrong.

Her hand rose to her lips and she stared up at the stars, feeling her heart grow, and grow, and grow. She breathed in deeply as the cool October wind caressed her skin, unknotting her nerves and easing away her tension. Shadows seemed to dance at every corner, moving in rhythm with the wind. Stars filled the night sky like pale corn into the freshly turned ground, a sense of warmth springing from the cold, coming alive with raw energy.

She didn't know how long she'd been standing out there, and she didn't care.

Until the faint click of heels had her whirling around to the direction of the sound amassing from the shadows. What she'd assumed to be a shadow took the form of a woman. A tall, redheaded woman.

She froze as the figure came out under the moonlight, dressed in a well-fitted blue shirt, sailor pants, and white stilettos. She was beyond beautiful. Her hair, the color of a fiery furnace flew about her in endless waves. Her skin was as white as alabaster and her green eyes glowed under the moonlight.

Redhead and hellish, Purity had told her.

"Heather?"

Heather took menacing steps towards her, her heels clicking together on the ground. The murderous look on her face had Shanya taking a distinctive step back. This was no chance encounter. The only reason someone would hide in the shadows to jump a person was either because they wanted the person scared shitless or they wanted them dead. She had already been the former, she had no intentions of becoming the latter.

"Yes, Tramp," Heather hissed.

Shanya bristled. "Excuse me?"

"Tramp, whore, slut... the dirt under my heels."

Each word seemed to increase in tempo according to how vile they sounded, but Shanya stood her ground. If this strawberry on a stick didn't stop calling her names, she was going to rain hellfire on her.

"Is that what we're calling hired fiances now?"

Heather ran her tongue along her teeth very tactically before clicking it as her features relaxed into an entitled smug. Much like Shanya's used to when she'd cornered a prey. Usually some low-grade sissy who ran her mouth too much. It was deftly karmic to be on the other side of that stare.

"Amazing that you still have a use for that sharp tongue after plunging it ocean-deep into my boyfriend's throat."

So that's what this was about.

"Look, I don't know what you think you saw but—"

"What I think I saw?" Her voice had increased to a worrying octave and she had taken a calculative step towards her. It was as if vapors were coming out of her nose and ears and it was at that point that Shanya fully noticed how Heather's body trembled. Not from cold, but from pure, unfathomable rage.

"This charade ends today. You are done."

The vixen in Shanya refused to let herself be talked down to in such a manner—whether it was coming from an enraged she-wolf or not.

"I'm done when Paris says I'm done."

Heather's steely green eyes sharpened to a disturbing color, her features dissolving into brute steadiness. "What?"

"Last I checked, I'm getting paid by him. Not you. So I'm done only when he says I'm done."

Shanya heard the slap before she felt it. A flash of red flanked her vision as she was shoved hard, her legs tripping over themselves before she was pummeled back-first to the ground, her head hitting the solid surface with a resounding thud. She cried out as the back of her head exploded with pain and her teeth sank hard into her tongue. The sharp pain on her left cheek was no match for the stinging pain at the back of her head.

She caught a whiff of a peppermint scent as Heather sat atop her belly and wrung her surprisingly strong hands around Shanya's neck, her raw voice brutal against her ears.

"You shameless whore!"

Shanya struggled against her, shooting her right leg out and flaying her hands about her, but her movements were far too slow, her lungs being denied air. As Heather's grip tightened, Shanya's choking sounds felt like a kid underwater as she desperately tried to get her neck free of Heather's strong grip. A volcanic anger shot through her at that moment as adrenaline fired through her skin.

Ignoring the blinding pain that shot through her, Shanya released her hand from Heather's and yanked the red mane cascading off her back and Heather yelped, her grip loosening.

"Get off me, you bitch."

But someone was already prying said bitch off of her, his voice a quiet storm as he said, "What are you doing, Heather?"

Paris. As she scrambled to her feet, taking a few steps back, she saw Scot, Travis, and Purity flanking him—all of them having a panicked expression on their faces.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she averted her gaze back to Heather, watching as she turned to Paris, a murderous look on her face.

"You!" was all she said as she plunged her fists into his chest again and again. "You're protecting her? From me?"

"Heather, please," Paris said worryingly as Heather wriggled away from his grasp. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why? So you can have more time with your whore, is that it?" Heather sent a death glare towards Shanya's form, her eyes shining with hate, her hair a ruffled mess of fire.

She looked mad. Absolutely insane.

Paris approached her again slowly, like a man trying to tame a loose tiger. "Heather," he breathed, his voice smooth as silk. "Look at me."

She didn't at first, her hollow mad eyes full of malice still directed at Shanya. They were just as malicious when they stared at Paris.

"This was your idea, remember? I'm just doing my part."

It was her idea? Shanya's eyes widened in disbelief at the information.

"I despise you," Heather shrieked, trying to back away as Paris finally filled the gap between them. "I saw you kiss this tramp. You were kissing her, Paris." She said her like it was a virus. "And - and you were enjoying it."

To Shanya's utter shock, Heather started crying. Tears upon tears bursting forth like water from a dam. It sounded like a distressed child, raw from the inside.

"It meant nothing, Heather, nothing," Paris whispered, his face contorting in agony at the sight of it as he tried to pull her to his chest, but she slapped him. Hard and fast.

"You promised you weren't going to touch her," Heather hissed as she backed away from him. Still, his hand reached for her, soothingly, caressingly. His eyes turned tender as he pressed his lips softly against hers, tasting her salty tears, feeling her shudder against him, his hands skimming up and down her back until her resistance lessened and she just sobbed into him, her voice breaking. "You promised."

Shanya watched as Paris disengaged his lips from Heather's—lips that were worshiping hers mere moments ago—and cradled her closer to himself. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry." He kept whispering sweet nothings to her, his eyes full of warmth and affection as Heather rested her head on his chest, still sobbing. They held onto each other, lovingly, almost desperately and something in the pit of Shanya's heart ached terribly.

She turned away from the scene and nearly stumbled as she came upon the irritated faces of Scot, Purity, and Travis. She'd completely forgotten they were there.

"Those damned lovebirds," Scot swore with undisguised humor. He shook his head lightly, his hands fisted into his pockets as he looked upon the tender scene before them. Behind him, Purity only narrowed her eyes as she flung an exasperated hand in the air.

"Unbelievable." Then she looked at Shanya. There was something underlying that look. Something akin to rue. Travis on the other hand kept his face blank, saying nothing.

Shanya only faced the entrance of the hall as she dusted herself and fixed her mangled bun, her heart hardening. "Shall we go inside? Tramp's gotta impress some guests."

Purity snickered and Scot laughed, amusement glistening in his eyes as he shook his head again in resignation. "Paris has got his hands full with you, that's for sure."

Before they headed back into the bustling party, Shanya spared a final glance towards Paris and Heather.

They were still in each other's embrace.

A/n: Okay, be honest. Are you more like Heather in the jealous girlfriend scenario or Shanya?

My babies may be in pain right now but you know what wouldn't hurt? A vote:-)