Mia James needs a lifeline—fast. Accused of stealing company funds, she’s on the brink of losing her job when billionaire Adrian Knight offers her an unexpected way out: a contract marriage. Marrying him will clear her reputation, and for Adrian, it means silencing rumors, handling the press on his terms and fulfilling his grandfather's last wishes. It’s strictly business... or so they both say. Their plan seems simple enough: smile for the cameras, keep the story airtight, and definitely don’t fall for each other. But when Mia’s furious ex crashes their first press conference, she's forced to get closer to Adrian than she'd ever imagined. Suddenly, staged kisses feel dangerously real, and “pretending” becomes harder with every look they share. Now, Mia’s balancing a fake marriage, a very real connection with Adrian, and the risk of her entire world unraveling. With secrets on both sides and her heart on the line, can she keep her cool—or will they both get swept up in the game they started? In this rollercoaster of passion, scandal, and deception, Mia and Adrian are about to learn that in love and life, nothing ever goes exactly as planned.
View MoreAdrian stepped toward the dock and gestured to the rowboat. “Shall we?”I hesitated, eyeing the boat skeptically. “You expect me to get in that thing? Do I look like someone who knows how to row?”He smirked, already untying the rope. “You won’t have to. I’ll do the hard part. You just sit back and enjoy.”I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really trying to sell this, aren’t you?”“Come on, Mia,” he said, holding a hand out to me. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”I couldn’t resist the challenge in his tone. With a resigned sigh, I took his hand and let him help me into the boat. It rocked slightly as I settled onto the bench, and I shot Adrian a glare.“If this thing tips, I’m blaming you,” I said, gripping the edge of the boat for dear life.“Noted,” he replied, climbing in after me with practiced ease. “Although, if you end up in the water, it’ll be your fault for not trusting my impeccable boating skills.”“Oh, impeccable, huh?” I shot back. “Let me guess, you’re secr
The house was eerily quiet after Max left. It was like someone had flipped a switch, silencing the tornado of energy that had been spinning through the rooms for the past two days. I stood in the living room, surveying the wreckage. Pillows were strewn across the floor, one of Max’s toy cars was stuck under the couch, and there was a faint trace of whipped cream on the coffee table that neither of us had bothered to clean up.Adrian walked in, holding two glasses of water. “It’s almost too quiet now, isn’t it?”I accepted the glass he handed me and took a sip. “Yeah, I feel like I should be hearing a six-year-old yelling about superheroes or pancakes.”Adrian chuckled, sitting down on the couch. He looked relaxed, but there was a certain heaviness to his expression that hadn’t been there earlier.“Did he tire you out that much?” I teased, plopping down next to him.“Not just him,” Adrian replied, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Parenting—even the fake kind—is exhausti
It was well past Max’s bedtime when the house finally quieted. After a long day of non-stop energy, the kid had collapsed in the guest bedroom, clutching his toy robot like it was the most precious thing in the world.Adrian and I stood in the hallway outside his room, listening to his soft snores.“Well,” I said, keeping my voice low. “That was...an experience.”Adrian rubbed the back of his neck, looking as if he’d just finished running a marathon. “I don’t know how parents do this every day.”“Admit it, you had fun,” I teased.He shot me a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “Define ‘fun.’”“Oh, come on. You were laughing at the park. You helped him build a tower out of those blocks at the toy store. And don’t think I didn’t see you trying to beat his high score on that arcade game.”Adrian’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond.I leaned closer, smirking. “You’re a softie, aren’t you?”“Hardly,” he said, though the faint pink creeping up his neck betrayed him.Shaking my h
The next morning, I woke up to the unmistakable sound of pots clanging in the kitchen. Groaning, I checked the time—6:12 a.m. Too early for anything except coffee.As I stumbled out of the bedroom, I nearly tripped over a small robot toy parked in the hallway. Max’s backpack was propped up against the wall, and a trail of crayons led straight to the kitchen like breadcrumbs.When I reached the kitchen, the scene nearly stopped me in my tracks.Max stood on a stool, wearing one of Adrian’s button-up shirts as an oversized apron, flour smudged on his cheeks. Adrian was next to him, looking like he’d aged ten years overnight. His usual crisp morning appearance was replaced with a wrinkled t-shirt and dark circles under his eyes.“Good morning,” I said cautiously, stepping inside. “What’s going on here?”Max turned to me with a bright smile. “We’re making pancakes!”“We are not making pancakes,” Adrian corrected, his voice sharp. “We are ruining my kitchen.”“I’m helping!” Max protested,
“You’re not answering the door?” Adrian asked, his eyes flicking toward the sharp knock echoing through the mansion.“It’s your house,” I replied, lazily sipping my coffee. “Could be one of your mysterious business associates.”Adrian sighed, setting down his tablet. “Or a solicitor. Last time someone showed up unannounced, it was a guy trying to sell me a custom mailbox shaped like a yacht.”“Well, don’t keep them waiting. Could be your next yacht mailbox,” I teased, smirking.Rolling his eyes, Adrian pushed back his chair and walked to the door. “If it’s something ridiculous, you’re dealing with it next time,” he muttered under his breath.The moment he opened the door, a whirlwind of energy burst into the room in the form of a petite woman with sharp features, silver-streaked hair, and an air of authority that made me sit up straighter.“Adrian, darling, I need your help,” the woman announced, stepping inside as though she owned the place.“Eleanor,” Adrian said warily, his posture
It started with a search for coffee.I was wandering Adrian’s massive mansion one morning, wearing one of his oversized shirts and a pair of fuzzy socks, when I found myself hopelessly lost.“This place is ridiculous,” I muttered, peering into yet another empty room. “Who even needs this many doors?”Adrian had mentioned that the kitchen was “just down the hall,” but the hallways in his house seemed to stretch on forever. Just as I was about to give up and text him for help, I noticed something odd about one of the walls.It wasn’t a wall at all. It was a door—one cleverly disguised to blend in with the wood-paneled hallway.“What’s this?” I murmured, my curiosity immediately piqued.I pushed the door open and stepped inside, expecting to find a storage closet or maybe a boring office. Instead, I found a room that took my breath away.---The space was bathed in soft, natural light filtering through skylights. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with sketchbooks, canvases, and j
Adrian didn’t know what hit him when I proposed a spontaneous road trip.“A road trip?” he repeated, his brow furrowed as he glanced at the neatly packed duffel bags sitting by the door. “Mia, you’re aware we’re not teenagers anymore, right?”“Exactly why we should do it!” I said, looping my arm through his and giving him my best puppy-dog eyes. “It’s not like we have meetings to attend or deadlines to meet this weekend. Think of it as a mini getaway. Just you, me, and the open road.”He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe with a skeptical expression. “And let me guess—you already have an itinerary planned out?”“Of course,” I said, holding up my phone. “I mapped out all the best stops. Scenic views, quirky diners, maybe even a haunted inn.”“A haunted inn?” His brow shot up. “Why does it feel like I’m walking into one of your chaotic schemes again?”“Because you are,” I replied cheerfully, grabbing his hand. “Now come on, Mr. Grumpy. Live a little.”He sighed, pinching th
I was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through social media when inspiration struck. A video of a couple recreating the famous dance scene from The Notebook caught my eye. They twirled and laughed under fairy lights, the kind of perfection that made hopeless romantics sigh.“This is so cute,” I muttered to myself, tapping on the hashtag #CoupleGoalsChallenge and diving into a rabbit hole of clips. Each video featured couples doing things that ranged from heartwarming to outright silly—romantic dances, baking disasters, matching outfits, and even lip-syncing battles.The idea hit me like a bolt of lightning. I was already grinning by the time Adrian walked into the living room, holding a steaming mug of coffee.“What are you plotting now?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he caught sight of my overly enthusiastic expression.“I’m not plotting. I’m... brainstorming,” I said, tucking my phone behind me like it wasn’t filled with ideas that would probably make him regret being in
“I don’t know about you,” Adrian said, his voice warm and teasing as he leaned against the kitchen counter, “but I think we need to set some ground rules.”“Ground rules?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Is this your way of saying you’re already regretting this?”His lips curved into a smirk, but there was no mistaking the softness in his gaze. “No, Mia. I’m saying if we’re going to do this—really do this—I don’t want to screw it up.”I set my mug down and turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Okay, Mr. Rule Maker. Let’s hear it. What are these so-called ground rules?”Adrian pushed off the counter and took a step closer, his presence commanding as always. But this time, there was a gentleness to his movements, a vulnerability that made my heart skip a beat. “Rule number one,” he began, his voice low and serious. “We don’t keep secrets. If something’s bothering you, you tell me. No more guessing games.”I raised an eyebrow, leaning again
“Mia, do you have anything to say for yourself?” Mr. Warden’s voice cut through the silence, cold and disdainful.I swallowed, forcing myself to keep my voice steady. “I… I didn’t take any money. I don’t know where this is coming from.”Ms. Hawthorne’s eyes narrowed, her gaze sharp and calculating. “Really? Because that's exactly what a thief would say"“What? No!” I shot a glance around the room, looking for anyone who might back me up. My eyes landed on Adrian at the head of the table. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable.“Mr. Knight, you don’t believe this, do you?” I tried to keep my tone respectful. But the desperation slipped through.His gaze met mine, but there was no comfort in it, no reassurance. “This isn’t a good look, Mia.”The words hit me like a slap. I felt my heart sink, but I forced myself to keep my head up. “You know me. You know I wouldn’t… I didn’t do this.”Adrian’s silence was crushing. Lisa, who’d been a friend—or so I thought—leaned forward, an amuse...
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