Just us. The phrase echoes in my head, thrilling and terrifying.
"The agreement was for public appearances. Not private getaways, and Anya wanted romantic photos."
Sebastian steps closer, backing me against the closet shelf. "The agreement was to make everyone believe we're madly in love. You think we can sell that without actually spending time together?"
His logic is sound. His proximity is not. I can't think straight with him this close.
"Fine, but I'm bringing work."
"No, you're not." His hands settle on my hips. "You're on your honeymoon, Mrs. Clay."
The name sends another shock through me. Mrs. Clay. Sebastian's wife. My new reality.
"This is just an arrangement," I whisper, needing to remind myself as much as him. "For appearances."
Sebastian's thumb traces my lower lip, just like this morning. "Keep telling yourself that, baby. Maybe eventually you'll believe it."
The scary part is, I'm starting to think I don't want to.
5
SEBASTIAN
The cabin was exactly what we needed. Four days of just us—swimming in the lake, making love on every surface, watching her read on the porch wrapped in blankets while I brought her coffee. Four perfect days where I memorized every curve and dip of her body, every expression on her face. I didn't think it was possible to fall deeper, but I did.
Now, back in the penthouse, I watch her unpack our bags, humming softly to herself. Hair pulled up in a messy bun, wearing nothing but my hockey shirt. Sockrates follows her around the bedroom, occasionally nudging her leg for attention.
He's always by her side now. I've no doubt if I ask him to choose, he would go for her. Little traitor.
"You're doing that thing again," she says without looking up.
"What thing?"
"Staring at me like you're peeling my clothes off one by one."
I move behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, and press my lips to her neck. "I like staring at you. It's a game I likedto play these past few years. Stare at you and look away quickly before you catch me."
"You're so obsessed with me."
"I am and not ashamed to admit it."
Her phone vibrates on the dresser. Then mine. Then hers again. And again.
"That can't be good," Mad says, reaching for her phone.
I tighten my hold on her. "Ignore it."
"Sebastian, that many notifications at once means something's happening." She scrolls through her messages, her body tensing against mine. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."
"What?"
She holds up her screen. "Kyle released a video. He's claiming your attack was unprovoked, that he was just trying to get a quote about the game when you assaulted him."
"And?"
"And?" She twists in my arms, staring at me in disbelief. "He's calling me your 'glorified secretary' who you conveniently married to save your reputation. He's implying the whole thing is fake."
I shrug. "So?"
