Chapter 58: Performing closeness

"You’re welcome, Miss Kensington." Tim replied then removed his hand.

Sienna left her freed hand drop to her side then looked up, her mouth opening but Tom was already turning away.

"Hey..."

"Sorry, Mr Harlow... There’s a plan for today, actually." Sienna corrected herself reluctantly. The civility she was maintaining still sat unnaturally on her face, as if she had to keep reminding herself not to slip into old habits.

"Yes?" He looked back at her.

"We have a dinner engagement this evening," she continued. "We need to be seen together as soon as possible. The speculation isn’t dying down the way it should, and the longer it breathes, the more dangerous it becomes for the launch."

Tom studied her for a moment. Under the terms they had agreed on, she was doing it correctly, presenting it as information, not an order. He wouldn’t dispute that

"What time?" he asked.

"Seven." She held his gaze with visible effort. "Does that work with your schedule?" she asked and Tom could see she was almost holding her breath for his response. She definitely didn’t want to hear him say no.

"It does." Tom replied.

"Good." Sienna hesitated, then added, "My assistant will deliver an outfit for you. It is part of the presentation. Coordinated styling reads as closeness. It photographs better. I’d prefer if you didn’t reject it."

There it was again - control, carefully wrapped in professional language. Tom considered the request and after a second of realizing that it wouldn’t affect him, he gave a small nod

"Alright."

"Thank you, Mr. Harlow."

He nodded then turned and went upstairs, the formal address still lingering in the air behind him.

~~~~~~~~~

Inside his room, the quiet felt heavier than usual.

Tom shut the door and stood there for a second before the System’s voice arrived.

[Host still has unfinished daily tasks.]

He closed his eyes briefly as he remembered the ’underwear’ task. He had pushed it aside the moment the mission had been explained that morning and never returned to it.

"Right!" He muttered then opened the interface. As he had expected, there was no penalty attached to failure.

His shoulders sagged slightly in relief.

"Not now. Wrong time." he said to the system.

[Avoidance noted,] the System replied, tone light but pointed. [Host is advised to not make a habit of ignoring things just because they make you uncomfortable.]

[Next time, there would be a penalty]

Tom didn’t answer. He moved toward the wardrobe instead, already forcing his attention toward the evening. The role required presentation and he decided he would give them presentation.

~~~~~~~~~

By evening, the house had taken on a different atmosphere; quieter, as if even the walls understood something staged was about to leave through the front door.

Tom stood before the mirror and adjusted the cuffs of the jacket. The suit that had been arranged for him fit him well, better than he wanted to admit. It sharpened his shoulders and made his posture look intentional rather than merely upright.

When he finally stepped out of his room and went downstairs, Sienna was already waiting near the entrance.

She wore a deep-colored dinner gown that followed the line of her body without effort. It was a low neck and her cleavage was given a lot of attention.

Her hair had been styled with obvious effort and her makeup was clean and smooth. For a brief moment, Tom’s eyes rested on her the way they once might have, taking in the familiar beauty, the polish, the version of her the public was allowed to see. Then he looked away, almost immediately.

Sienna noticed the glance, though neither of them acknowledged it.

"We’ll take one of my cars," she said as he approached. "You can choose which."

Tom shook his head. "No."

Her brows knit slightly. "Why not?"

"If the point is to look like a proper couple, I should drive. You arriving with me as a passenger in your own car doesn’t read the same way. If we’re doing this, we may as well do it properly." he said with confidence of a man who knew exactly why he was saying what he was saying.

Sienna opened her mouth, the refusal already forming. Before she could speak, Amanda, standing a few steps away with a tablet against her arm, cut in quietly.

"He is right. His car will support the image better. It looks less arranged from the outside." The public relations officer said.

Sienna’s jaw tightened. For a moment it was obvious she wanted to override both of them. Then she swallowed the response and gave a short, stiff nod.

"Fine."

Tom walked out first.

The black Mercedes waited in the driveway, cleanly waiting. He opened the driver’s door, settled in, and started the engine, one hand resting loosely over the wheel. Through the windscreen, he watched Sienna hesitate near the entrance before finally walking toward the car.

She opened the passenger door and slid in. She sat down with a too straight, rigid posture, her purse placed carefully across her lap, while her eyes sharply fixed forward as if the road ahead required all of her attention.

The discomfort in her posture was obvious.

Tom pulled out of the driveway and into the street before speaking.

"I’m not a public relations officer, but if we’re supposed to look like a couple, this won’t do." he said, his eyes fixed on the road.

Sienna turned her head slightly. "What won’t?"

"The way you’re sitting." He pointed out bluntly, although his voice remained calm, almost mild. He continued after letting that land;

"Put the purse aside. No one sits that stiffly beside their husband unless something is wrong. Lean back. Close a little of the space between us. If anyone sees us at a light or in a car park, it should look natural. Not staged."

Sienna blinked then stared at him. Her gaze was on him for an unnecessary second.

There was nothing mocking in his tone, nothing openly domineering, which somehow made the instruction land harder. She blinked again then looked down at the purse resting across her thighs, then moved it to the floor by her feet. After another brief hesitation, she shifted back against the seat and adjusted her posture, reducing the rigid distance she had been keeping between them.

Tom kept his eyes on the road.

From her seat, Sienna let her gaze rest on his profile for a moment; the steady hands on the wheel, the relaxed but controlled posture, the ease with which he had corrected the image they were trying to present. The thought rose sharply before she could stop it, unwelcome and sharp.

Had he always been this smart?

Or had she simply never bothered to look long enough to notice?