New York

~Astrid~

“Okay. I saw the news, and it’s ridiculous,” Freya chuckled awkwardly as I dried my hair. I already knew what she was about to say but kept quiet, letting her speak.

“Your doppelganger got announced as Adrian’s fiancée. It’s sickening that he’s actually getting married to someone who looks like you. Screw that, I think they’re already married,” she continued as I dressed quickly, my thoughts racing.

“Are you listening to me, Ash?” she asked, her voice curious. I nodded, knowing fully well she couldn’t see me.

“I can hear you,” I said, glancing around my room. I’d spent most of the night arranging everything while waiting for my things to arrive, so everything was already in place.

“I knew he never got over you. I always knew it,” Freya giggled, oblivious to the tension building inside me. I let out a steady breath. It was now or never.

“I’m his wife, Fre. I got married to Adrian,” I said, my voice calm but firm. She chuckled at first, thinking it was some kind of joke. Then silence.

“Wait, you’re serious?” she asked, her tone sharp now. I rolled my eyes. Like I’d joke about something this big.

“100% serious,” I muttered, and she gasped loudly.

“Fuck!” she swore, and I heard shuffling sounds in the background. “Astrid, Mum can’t hear about this. What do you mean by you’re married to Adrian?”

Freya was my younger sister. We didn’t share the same dad—mine died when I was ten. Mum married Freya's dad later, but they divorced seven years after Freya was born. It was a mess, but no matter what, she was my sister. And even though she was only seventeen, she was smart—and I loved her to pieces.

“It just happened, okay?” I said, knowing she could be a blabbermouth around Mum. If Freya found out the marriage was fake, Mum would know in a heartbeat, and that would be the end of everything.

“Marriage doesn’t just happen, Ash,” she said, skepticism dripping from her voice. I heard our mum calling her faintly in the background.

“I’m coming, Mum! Just a second!” Freya yelled. “We’re going to talk about this once you’re home. Bye!” She hung up before I could get another word in.

I finished dressing and headed downstairs to the living room, where Adrian was speaking with another man. Their conversation paused as I entered, both men looking in my direction. Adrian was the first to look away, his expression cool.

“...You’ll move the boxes into her room. We’ve got a flight to catch,” Adrian said to the man, who nodded obediently.

“I’m not packed yet,” I said casually. Adrian’s brown eyes narrowed on me immediately.

“What do you mean you’re not packed yet?” he asked, his tone slightly edged with irritation. I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What did you expect me to pack? Unless you want me to go back to my apartment and grab my things,” I shot back, meeting his gaze head-on. His jaw clenched in frustration.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” he asked, his voice low, a warning. The man in front of him shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension in the room.

“Uh, I’ll just get the boxes ready,” the man muttered before slipping out of the room.

“Piss you off? I’m just stating facts, Voss. If you’re in such a hurry, you can go without me. Your choice,” I said evenly.

Our eyes locked for a moment before Adrian looked away, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Let’s go. We’ll get you new things in New York,” he said flatly.

“Oh, does that include underwear, bags, and shoes? Because I have literally nothing,” I added, savoring the flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

The satisfaction of getting under his skin was a small but welcome pleasure.

“Whatever it is you need, we’ll get it there. I’m running late,” he bit out. I didn’t bother pointing out his use of “I” instead of “we.”

“I’ll grab my bag,” I muttered, turning back to my room. Once there, I grabbed the small bag I’d arrived with yesterday and picked up the ring from the nightstand.

I’d taken it off last night because I couldn’t stand the weight of it on my finger—especially knowing I was under Adrian's roof. Slipping it back on, I headed back downstairs.

Adrian didn’t say a word when he saw me, just turned and walked to the door. I followed him out to the waiting car. The driver started the engine as we settled in, and the silence stretched between us.

I busied myself checking my phone. There were dozens of texts—mostly from Nora, clients, and concerned friends, all asking the same thing: how did I know Adrian Voss?

The answer was simple. He was my boyfriend five years ago. The man who killed our baby. The man who broke my heart. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

Now, he was my husband.

“We’re going to see Aaron and his fiancée,” Adrian said abruptly, his tone as dry as ever. I didn’t even look up.

“And I’m supposed to know who Aaron is?” I replied, keeping my tone just as flat.

“He’s my boss. He thinks we’re married for love. If he suspects otherwise, I could lose my job. Not that it would hurt, but I like working with him,” Adrian explained. I glanced up. “His fiancée is observant. Don’t give her any reason to be suspicious,” he added.

“And what makes you think I’d be the one to make them suspicious?” I snapped, annoyed at his assumption.

“Because I don’t trust you, Blythe,” he said, his tone cold and clipped.

I shrugged, offering a lopsided smile. “Neither do I, Voss. But we’ll make it work.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing, giving a curt nod instead.

By the time we reached the airport, I was surprised to learn Adrian owned a private jet. I shouldn’t have been—he came from an obscenely wealthy family—but still, the luxury was a reminder of how different our worlds were.

Once we landed in New York, a car picked us up and drove us to Aaron’s house.

I was pretty exhausted but it got replaced by awe as we pulled up to a sprawling estate, complete with a waterfall at the front.

I could make out Aaron and his fiancée waiting by the entrance. Joan, with her ginger-red hair and beaming smile, practically glowed with excitement. Aaron, on the other hand, stood stiff and aloof beside her.

Adrian glanced at me and gave a small nod before stepping out of the car. He opened my door, offering his hand. I smiled up at him, forcing myself to look convincingly in love. His hand slid around my waist as we approached the couple, his touch heating against my dress.

Joan lit up when she saw us. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” she whispered to Aaron, nudging him. He grimaced slightly.

“None like you,” he muttered, and her smile widened.

Joan stepped forward, ignoring Aaron’s warning glare.

“Adrian, it’s been so long!” She reached to hug him, but Aaron’s arm shot out, stopping her mid-motion.

“No hugs,” he said curtly. Joan huffed, extending a hand instead. “Nice to see you again,” she said dryly before turning to me.

I was expecting a handshake too, but she pulled me into a hug before I had a chance to react. The warmth of her energy caught me off guard.

“I don’t know why you’re with a man like him, but you’re drop-dead gorgeous, girl,” she whispered, pulling back with a knowing smile. I returned it as best I could.

“This is Aaron. My fiancé,” she said, her eyes softening as she glanced at the man next to her. It was clear she adored him, even if he didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve.

“Nice to meet you, sir. Adrian’s told me a lot about you,” I said, extending my hand toward Aaron. He took it briefly, his firm grip engulfing mine. His gaze shifted to Adrian almost immediately.

“Wouldn’t say the same,” Aaron muttered, his voice low and clipped. His tone made my smile falter slightly as I pulled my hand back.

Touché.

Joan immediately looped her arm through mine, steering me away from the men without hesitation.

The moment we were out of earshot, she leaned closer. “Don’t mind Aaron. He acts like he’s got a stick up his ass most of the time. It’s a thing.”

I let out a soft laugh despite myself, feeling some of the tension ease in her presence. “I’m Astrid, by the way,” I said.

“Joan. But you can call me Jo,” she replied with a grin. “Congratulations on your marriage! I know it was a bit fast and simple, but I loved the pictures Adrian sent.”

Pictures? I forced a polite smile, twisting the ring on my finger. “Thank you,” I murmured, unsure what else to say.

Joan’s eyes lit up as she spoke again. “Adrian told me you’re an event planner. God, I’ve been looking for a good one forever. I think it’s fate we met!” She rolled her eyes dramatically, and I found myself chuckling again.

Despite how much I disliked Adrian—or his boss, Aaron—I had the feeling I was going to like Joan.

Hopefully.