A collective roar rises around the room.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“You lied to us!”
“We could have helped!”
“Is he forcing you?”
The last one snaps me out of my nervous haze. “No!” I shout, silencing the room. “Darcy is not forcing me. I chose this. And we are dating.”
Perplexed and doubtful faces fixate on me, waiting for me to elaborate. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yes, our marriage is for convenience to help him win the rural vote. But, as we’ve spent more time together and have gotten to know each other on a more…personal level, we decided to start dating within our marriage. I like him a lot, and, well—” I close my eyes to cool the heat kissing my face.
“Well, what?” Brittney, our campaign merchandise coordinator prompts.
“Our marriage will be real. One day,” a deep voice that I’ve come to recognize by sound alone says. I turn around, and all of the anxiety building within my bones vaporizes. Darcy takes two long strides into the room, wraps his arms around me in a tight embrace, and then kisses me. “I’m so sorry.”
The sound vibrates against my lips. “I thought you were in a meeting.”
He kisses me again. “Bennie saw the alert. I had to check on you. The diplomats can wait.”
Happiness swells within me. He choseme. I plant one more kiss and say, “We’ll get through this.”
Applause rings out around the room, along with new shouts.
“I called it!”
“Let’s burn the receipts!”
“Get a room!”
Darcy’s forehead drops to mine, and we laugh. I take a mental snapshot of this moment, one that if you would have asked me if it would happen even a month ago, I would have laughed in your face. But now? This is a memory I’ll cherish to my grave.
For once in my life, I have a teammate.
But I also have a job to do. I let go of Darcy, but only to take his hand and lead him to the front of the room. “Micah, I need your help,” I say to our social media manager. “This is what we need to do…”
After a grueling three-hour long meeting, we dismiss the team. Turns out Loveless’s proof was out of context photos from the night of the dinner party where he made it seem like me and Darcy struck the deal that night. One is a picture of me and Darcy standing outside the door before we entered into Weatherby Estate. The photo is altered to look like we are shaking hands and securing a deal, but in reality, I remember Darcy avoiding eye contact with me while I tried to get him to smile before walking in.
We released a statement denying all charges, since no real receipts were brought to the table. A small part of me feels guilty for lying, but this is politics. And despite how we started, what Darcy and I have now is real.
However, people are easily manipulated, and it’s going to take some time for the accusations to pass. But honestly, I’m fine with it because it means Darcy and I can PDA-away the allegations. And that will befun.
Grinning, I head back to my room to get ready for the business dinner that Darcy’s masquerading as a date. As I wind down the halls to the other side of the mansion, I shove away thoughts of confessing the truth to the public because something Darcy said before the meeting rings through my ears:“Our marriage will be real. One day.”
A real marriage entails not sleeping on opposite ends of an estate.
A real marriage means drifting off to dreamland with arms wrapped around you.
A real marriage consists of long nights and twisted sheets.
And I should be nervous, but honestly?
I’m waiting for that man to invite me into his bed.
Because regardless of how this started, I think I know exactly how it ends. With forever.
Nearly tripping as I walk into my room because I’m so lost in midnight fantasies, I notice a long, white box sitting right inside the room where I accidentally kicked it. Off to the side and tumbled to its side sits a smaller white box. I pick them up and bring them to the bed, opening them. Inside the larger box lays a note written in perfect cursive atop lemon-yellow fabric.
