[BL] I Didn't Sign Up For This Chapter 6: In Which I Become a Tabloid Headline (Kill Me Now

The press briefing was being held in a conference room three floors down. Azryth’s PR team had set everything up: a small stage, microphones, chairs arranged for what looked like at least fifty reporters.

Fifty reporters.

My hands were sweating in the expensive leather gloves soone had insisted I wear, the suit felt like a straightjacket, my heart was trying to escape through my ribcage.

"Breathe," Azryth murmured beside , we were waiting backstage, hidden from the growing crowd. "You look like you’re about to pass out."

"I might," I whispered back. "I’ve never... I don’t do public speaking, I don’t do press, I don’t do any of this."

"You’re doing it now." His hand found mine, squeezing once. Reassuring. "Rember: we’re a couple in love, nothing they ask can shake that narrative."

"Right. In love with you, the demon who kidnapped ."

"Married you," he corrected. "Kidnapping implies lack of consent, you consented to the binding."

"Under duress!"

"Semantics."

A woman in a sharp pantsuit appeared, wearing a headset and carrying a tablet. "Mr. Valek, we’re ready for you."

Azryth’s entire deanor shifted, the slight tension I’d noticed disappeared, replaced by absolute confidence. CEO mode, I realized. This was his elent.

"Showti," he said, and there was actually a hint of amusent in his voice.

He led out onto the stage.

The cara flashes were imdiate and blinding, a wall of light and sound, reporters shouting questions before we’d even reached the chairs. I froze, completely overwheld.

Azryth’s hand tightened on mine, grounding. He guided to the seats, waiting for to sit before taking his own chair, his hand never left mine.

The PR woman stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlen, thank you for coming. Mr. Valek will make a brief statent, and then we’ll take a limited number of questions."

Azryth stood, and I noticed how the room quieted imdiately, he had presence, the kind that made people instinctively shut up and listen.

"Thank you all for being here," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly. "As you’ve seen from this morning’s announcent, I’ve recently married my long-ti partner, Riven Kael." He looked down at , and the expression on his face was so genuine, so warm, that I almost believed it myself. "We’ve kept our relationship private for so ti, but we’re ready to share this happiness publicly."

He sat back down, his hand imdiately finding mine again. Possessive. Protective.

The questions started imdiately.

"Mr. Valek, how long have you been together?"

"Several years," Azryth answered smoothly. "We t through professional channels and beca close gradually."

"Mr. Kael, what’s it like being married to one of the world’s most powerful CEOs?"

They were actually asking questions, looking at and expecting answers.

I opened my mouth, but nothing ca out.

Azryth’s thumb brushed the back of my hand, encouraging.

"It’s..." I cleared my throat. "It’s an adjustnt, but a good one."

Smooth, Riven. Real smooth.

"You were completely unknown before today," another reporter called out. "So are saying this is a publicity stunt."

I felt Azryth tense beside .

"I understand the skepticism," he said, his voice taking on an edge. "But I assure you, my relationship with Riven is entirely genuine, we chose privacy because we valued our relationship more than public opinion."

"Mr. Kael, is it true you were just a mid-level employee before this?"

The question was clearly ant to embarrass , highlighting the massive gap between our positions.

"I still am an employee," I said, finding so spark of defiance. "Marriage doesn’t change my career."

Several reporters laughed. Not mocking laughter, appreciative.

Azryth’s hand squeezed mine, approval.

More questions. So invasive ("When’s the honeymoon?" "Are you planning children?"), so ridiculous ("What’s his favorite breakfast?" "Does he snore?"), so surprisingly normal ("How did he propose?").

Azryth handled most of them with practiced ease, only occasionally deferring to . When he did, his hand on my back was steady, grounding, reminding I wasn’t alone in this.

Even if I desperately wanted to be anywhere else.

"One final question," the PR woman announced.

"Mr. Kael," a reporter in the front row called. "You’ve been very quiet, are you happy?"

The room went silent, everyone waiting for my answer.

I looked at Azryth. At his perfect face, his carefully neutral expression, his eyes that burned with barely contained power.

Was I happy? That was a joke. I was trapped, bound, my entire life upended.

But the binding was there, humming between us, and I knew he could feel my emotions, knew if I said the wrong thing, showed the wrong reaction, everything could fall apart.

So I smiled. Put every ounce of conviction I could muster into my voice.

"Yes," I lied to fifty reporters and thousands of future viewers. "I’m very happy."

Azryth’s hand tightened on my back. Possessive. Triumphant.

The caras flashed, capturing the mont, the lie that would beco truth in the public consciousness.

"Thank you all for your ti," the PR woman said, already ushering us off the stage.

We made it back to the private elevator before I started shaking.

"You did well," Azryth said as the doors closed.

"I lied to everyone," I said hollowly. "On cara, in front of the world."

"You played your part." He released my hand now that we were alone. "That’s all that matters."

"For real?" I looked at him. "Is that really all that matters to you? The performance?"

Sothing crossed his face, too quick to read.

"What else would there be?" he said finally.

The elevator opened onto the penthouse floor, I walked out without answering, the weight of the lie settling over like a shroud.

Behind , I felt Azryth following, always there. Always connected.

Always watching.

The sigil on my wrist pulsed.

I was starting to hate that pulse.