Switched Bride, True Luna - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

Emily
The night started with a dress.
It was a beautiful, pale-blue thing that hugged my waist and floated around my knees.
I wasn’t used to soft fabrics or silver zippers. I was used to sensible shoes, high ponytails, and reliable, muted colors. But when I saw myself in the mirror, I didn’t see the assistant or the pawn.
I saw a woman who could stand next to an Alpha.
The chain around my neck shimmered when I turned my head. Each small diamond caught the light and glistened a prism of colors.
When Logan knocked, I opened the door slowly. His eyes swept over me once, twice, and for a moment, something in his expression faltered. His pupils dilated, a slow warmth blooming in his gaze.
“You look…” He paused, visibly searching for the word. “Amazing.”
I flushed. “You clean up alright yourself.”
He offered his arm, and I took it, surprised by the gentleness in the gesture. His hand didn’t feel like possession. It felt like support.
The drive to the Moonview Theater was calm. We spoke about little things. I was too nervous to bring up conversation other than small talk.
I couldn’t exactly explain the butterflies either. There was something new here, but it wasn’t that it was technically our first date.
There was something new between us.
Slowly, we were coming to understand each other. Logan was not only my Alpha, but he had become a friend, maybe even my closest confidante.
Logan did most of the talking. I liked the sound of his voice when he spoke about the territory. He was so proud of Titanfang.
We parked across the street from the theater, and Logan got out to open my door. My heels clicked softly on the pavement as I stepped out, hand in his.
That’s when I saw the first camera.
It was across the street as a subtle but unmistakable flash. Then another, closer.
My stomach twisted.
All the warm, fuzzy feelings I had melted away. I should have assumed this was a publicity stunt.
Everything that Logan did was calculated. This was no different.
I tightened my grip on Logan’s hand as we approached the glowing marquee. The Moonview Theater was buzzing with energy. Other couples were in formalwear, and the soft music drifting out the front doors was followed by murmured laughter and warm lights.
None of it felt quite real.
Because this wasn’t a night out.
It was a performance.
The cameras weren’t accidents. The flashes weren’t coincidences. They were here for us.
Logan didn’t seem surprised.
My chest clenched. Heat crawled up my neck, twisting with the brittle edge of betrayal. He’d said he wanted to be seen with me.
I knew how to play my part.
What I didn’t consider was that I didn’t want to. Ever since my mom passed, it felt like all of my life, I’d played the part they expected of me. Some small piece of me had thought Logan appreciated me as the person that I was.
Apparently, I hoped for too much.
I smiled, soft and lovely, as the host welcomed us to the theater. I laughed at Logan’s low joke when we sat down, even though my heart wasn’t in it. I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and leaned close enough to make it look natural and intimate.
Inside, I was hollow.
He didn’t even notice.
The show was beautiful. I didn’t notice. I could barely focus. Every time someone snapped a photo or whispered nearby, my skin prickled.
The scent of press and politics clung to the air.
By the time the lights dimmed for intermission, I excused myself and stepped into the restroom.
There, under the soft glow of antique bulbs, I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
The dress was still beautiful. My lipstick was still perfect. But the shine had dulled behind my eyes.
I took a deep breath, and as I let it out, I trembled. I wanted so much more from this night. I thought this was a real date, one that was supposed to help us understand each other. Instead, it was another part of Logan’s big plan.
I don’t know why I expected anything different from him. Logan was a strategist at heart. Everything he did had a motive behind it. This date was nothing different.
I bit back my tears. I keep getting my hopes up to have them torn back down.
I took a few more breaths, reapplied my lip gloss, and forced the corners of my mouth back into that polished smile. I returned to the theater before the lights dimmed again, sliding into my seat with a graceful nod.
Logan leaned in. “You alright?”
“Of course,” I said, eyes on the stage.
He watched me for a second too long. I kept my eyes glued to the stage. I didn’t want to catch that steely gaze.
The second half of the show passed in a blur. The crowd rose in applause, the performers bowed, and the audience began to file out into the night.
I followed, arm lightly looped through Logan’s, as if I was a well-placed accessory in the Alpha’s public tableau.
Inside, I felt like a wilting flower. I maintained my composure, although what I really wanted was for this date to end.
It might have been different if Logan had warned me. At least then he would have been honest with his intentions, and I wouldn’t be left on the sidelines.
When we reached the car, I hesitated at the door.
“Was that the whole evening?” I asked, a little too sharply.
Logan opened my door and raised a brow. “Not quite. There’s a place I want to take you. Somewhere quieter.”
I slid into the seat, my smile brittle. “More press?”
“No,” he said, closing the door behind me.
I wasn’t sure I believed him anymore.
The restaurant was nestled into the hillside outside of downtown, past the noisy nightlife and away from the heart of the city. It had no flashing sign, only a carved wood plaque with elegant cursive: The Amber Room.
I had heard of it, of course. It was the kind of place where council members dined on alliance anniversaries. It was where arranged mates were introduced to each other for the first time. A table could only be booked through legacy connections or Alphas.
Of course Logan had a standing reservation.
Inside, the restaurant was candlelit, quiet, and velvet-lined. A live violinist played in the corner, and soft laughter drifted between tables.
But no cameras. No flashing lights.
My shoulders relaxed an inch.
Still, the unease lingered. It was hard to trust that Logan didn’t have another plan in mind.
We were seated in a private booth with a curved leather back, partially hidden behind a silk curtain. Logan ordered a red blend and left the menu choices up to the chef.
“So,” he said, once we were alone again. “Did you like the show?”
I gave a neutral smile. “It was lovely.”
“You didn’t say much after.”
“I had nothing to say,” I replied, the words slipping out before I could soften them.
Logan blinked. “What?”
I looked down at the silverware. “The cameras, the crowd. Us. That was the point, wasn’t it? To be seen as a real couple.”
He didn’t answer right away.
I took his silence as confirmation.
“I get it,” I continued, my voice raising slightly. “It’s good for the pack to see us together. I know that.” Logan didn’t interrupt, his steely eyes focused on me. “I thought…” I shook my head and tried to smile again. “Never mind. I’m being silly.”
“I don’t understand what the big deal is.”
His attitude only annoyed me more. I know I didn’t explain it very well, but it hurt even more that he didn’t seem to care about how I felt. He accepted the presence of the press as if it were nothing, like he expected it.
It only made me angry.
“This was supposed to be a date. You should have told me it was a setup,” I said through grit teeth. I was trying to rein in my feelings because people shouldn’t overhear us talking about this. It was getting more difficult though.
Logan’s expression darkened. I couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking though.
The food arrived, and our conversation was cut short as the waiter put our plates in front of us. They were small dishes arranged more like art than food. The server described each one in a soft voice before disappearing. Logan picked up his fork, but he didn’t start eating.
“Emily—”
“Let’s not,” I said gently. “We should enjoy the food.”
He didn’t press again. We ate in tense silence. I could have cut through the air with my steak knife. The warmth from earlier, the laughter, the teasing ease, was gone now, replaced by a quiet space between us that I didn’t know how to cross.
I told myself not to care. Being angry wasn’t going to solve anything. It seemed like the more I tried to calm down, the angrier I became.
I can’t even explain why. Why did it matter so much?
As I looked across the candlelit table at the man who was one day to be my Alpha, my partner, the ache in my chest told me it was because I cared.
The violinist struck a final note as dessert was cleared. Logan reached across the table, his voice low.
“I didn’t invite the press, Emily.”
My eyes narrowed. “Then who did?”
He leaned back, eyes unreadable.
“That’s what I want to find out.”