A Fake Marriage With The Real Tycoon

he small of her back. Her own uniform was in the wash, stained with coffee from

nt of money and perfume that clung to the air in places like the Northwood Country Cl

lver tray into her hands. The crystal flutes clinked, a sound like

nate edge of the tray biting i

every step. One of them caught on a seam, and she pitched forward, the champagne sloshing dangerously. She froze, her heart slamming

s slightly ajar. From inside, a wave of cigar sm

particular,

easy chuckle that always started in his chest. A sound she'd

id

studying for his midterms at the university library. He'd texted her a picture of his textb

before her mind could object. She

on a tufted leather sofa, his back partially to her. But it was him.

erything

eccably tailored suit that probably cost more than her entire semester's tuition. A Patek Philippe wa

This wasn't the Caiden who ate ramen with her on the floor of her tin

arby armchair. "Has the little charity

lood went

ightly, and she saw his profile. The smug, confident smile

smooth as silk. "She still thinks I'm

d him erupted

said, shaking his head. "Tha

wirled the liquid in his glass. "A little p

flutes slid off, but instead of shattering on a hard floor, it landed on the thick

he room hea

r lower lip, hard. The sharp, coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

e dripping with condescension. "Especially now that Averie

rie Weaver. His high school girlfriend. Th

ts breaking the skin. The sting was sharp, real. It ke

d to g

s. A shard had chipped off, and it sliced her finger as she picked it up. She

nd her. She couldn't be found her

the shadows of the corridor just

rouched on the floor, the heavy tray still in her hands. She

med over her. "What are you doing skulking in the hallway

erage duty. Go to the back. You're on mascot d

ot d

mind was a maelstrom of Caiden's

ir own. Someone pointed her to a large, lumpy heap in the co

nd cheap disinfectant. The oversized head was the last piece. She slid it on, and her w

serving dome. A ridiculous, cartoonish t

what

wouldn't get away with this. He wouldn't take her

he head's opening. "Hand out balloons

n. The sounds of the party were muffled, distant. Inside her head, the convers

oor to the VI

as a woman in a stunning red dress, her bl

it impossible to turn and run. She wa

ascot without a flicker of recognition. She was an object. A piece of t

see her. H

pulling him close. "I missed you," she

ed back, his voice thick with an em

his head an

hand tangled in Averie's hair. It was the kind of kiss Ala

away in the space between her ribs. The air in the turkey head was go

s and cheers erupte

uted. "The king and qu

ad, a single, hot tear escaped her eye and trace