"I can't marry you, Adrian."
The words come out sharper than I intended, echoing slightly in the quiet of the cafe. Adrian barely flinches; he just watches me, calm as ever, as if he expected this. I wait for some sort of reaction, but he only raises an eyebrow, giving me that same infuriating, unreadable look. "Are you sure about that?" he asks, stirring his coffee leisurely. "Because from where I’m sitting, it’s a practical solution. You get to keep your job, and I get what I need." I shake my head, feeling my pulse quicken. "I’m sorry, but I can’t. I already have a boyfriend. And I don’t believe in marriage without… well, romance." "Does he know what’s going on here?" Adrian’s question is calm, and it catches me off guard. "That’s… that’s beside the point." He shrugs. "Seems relevant to me. You don’t have to answer now. I’ll give you time to think about it." "No." I said, standing up. "My answer is no. And it’s final." He simply nods, as if this is the most predictable thing in the world. "All right, Mia. But remember, my offer stands." I don’t give him another chance to convince me otherwise. My mind’s made up—I want no part in his strange proposal. --- After leaving the cafe, I find myself scrolling through my phone until I see Greg’s name. Despite everything that’s happened between us, there’s a part of me that still hopes we can work things out. It’s foolish, but I tell myself what happened was just a mistake, a bump in the road. I take a steadying breath and head to his apartment. When I arrive, the door is slightly ajar. I knock softly, but there’s no answer, so I push it open a little wider and step inside. A soft laugh floats down the hall—a woman’s laugh. My stomach twists, but I tell myself I’m just being paranoid. Until I hear it again, coming from his bedroom. I walk down the hall, every step heavier than the last, until I reach his door. I can see him now, entangled with someone else on the bed. And it’s not the woman from before. It’s someone else entirely. "Greg?" I choke out, my voice a mix of anger and disbelief. They freeze, and he looks up, startled. The woman scrambles to gather her clothes, casting an apologetic look in my direction as she hurries past me, out the door. I barely acknowledge her, my focus entirely on Greg, who’s now sitting up, looking at me like I’m the one in the wrong. "Mia," he sighs, as if this is somehow my fault. "Are you serious right now, Greg?" I spit, feeling my voice shake with anger. "I thought what happened before was a mistake. I actually thought maybe I did something wrong, maybe I was the problem. But now I see what’s really going on—you’re just a filthy prostitute." He shrugs, pulling on his shirt with infuriating nonchalance. "Look, Mia, I don’t think this is working. I can’t keep doing this with you." "Doing what, exactly?" My hands are balled into fists, my voice trembling with every word. "I thought we were in a relationship. But you’re obviously incapable of any real commitment." He rolls his eyes, barely looking at me. "You’re overreacting. We weren’t serious." I open my mouth to respond, but there’s nothing left to say. I turn and walk out, slamming the door behind me. There’s a painful emptiness in my chest, but mixed with it is a burning anger, a sense of betrayal that makes my steps faster and sharper as I leave. --- The walk back to my apartment is a blur. I can hardly process what just happened, and by the time I reach my place, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I check the screen—Mom. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to sound cheerful. "Hey, Mom." "Honey, how are you?" Her voice is warm but strained, and it tugs at my heart. "We just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing." "I’m doing okay," I say, pushing everything aside for a moment. "Just… you know, busy with work." "Oh, that’s wonderful." She hesitates, then sighs. "Listen, sweetheart, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent, but we’re having a bit of a financial struggle right now. If you could spare a little, it would mean so much to us." My heart sinks, and I grip the phone tighter. "Of course, Mom. I’ll see what I can do." We chat a little longer, and I keep my voice bright, hiding the mounting stress pressing down on me. When we hang up, I sink onto my couch, staring at the floor as reality crashes in from every side. The bills, my family, my job… I need this job more than ever. My mind keeps returning to Adrian’s offer. I want to reject the idea entirely, but there’s no other way I can hold everything together. My only choice now is the one I didn’t want to consider. I need to take his offer. --- The next morning, I head to the office, every step feeling heavier. As I reach the hallway leading to Adrian’s office, I catch sight of Lisa near the break room. Her eyes narrow as she sees me, and she crosses her arms with a smug smile. "Mia," she sneers. "I thought you’d be gone by now. Don’t you know your place?" I keep walking, letting her words roll off my back. But just as I’m about to pass her, I stop, turning to her with a calm smile. "I do know my place, Lisa. That’s why I’m here. Maybe you should worry about yours." She opens her mouth to respond, but no words come out. For once, she’s speechless. I allow myself a small, satisfied smile as I continue to Adrian’s office. When I step inside, Adrian is sitting behind his desk, glancing up as I walk in. There’s a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, but he says nothing, waiting for me to speak. "I’ll do it," I say, meeting his gaze. "But I have conditions." "Go on," he says, folding his hands over his desk. "First, no intimacy. None whatsoever. Second, we sleep in separate rooms. Third, my family must never know this is fake. And when this is all over, we go back to our own lives. No complications, no drama." He nods without missing a beat. "Agreed." Then, without a word, he opens a drawer and pulls out a thick contract, placing it on the desk in front of me. I stare at it, eyebrows raised. "You had this ready?" He leans back, a smirk playing on his lips. "I know how much you love your job, Mia. I was fairly certain you wouldn’t give it up so easily." My jaw tightens, but I say nothing, reaching for the contract. As I scan the document, I notice a clause stating that we’ll need to remain married for a year. A year. I take a steadying breath, pick up the pen, and sign. After setting the pen down, I look up at Adrian, questions swirling in my mind. "I know why I’m doing this—I don’t have a choice. But why are you doing it? What do you get out of this?" His expression shifts, becoming harder to read. "That’s… complicated. Let’s just say it’s in both our best interests." I frown, studying his face for any hint of an answer, but he only smiles that enigmatic smile. He extends his hand. "Welcome aboard, Mia. Get ready to be Mrs. Knight.""Are you coming or not?" Adrian’s voice pulled me back from the papers I was looking at on his desk, his tone sharp and expectant.I blinked up at him, caught off guard. "Where are we going?""Wait and see." He gave me a smirk, and without another word, walked out, leaving me scrambling to keep up. The nerve of him. I followed him to his car, where he slid into the back seat, barely acknowledging me as I joined him."Are you seriously not going to tell me anything?" I asked, my voice dripping with frustration.“Patience, Mia.” He didn’t even look at me, just stared out the window, cool as ever.We pulled up in front of an upscale boutique. I glanced out the window and turned to him, bewildered. "A boutique? What, are you going shopping now?"Without a word, he opened his door, signaling me to get out. I followed, only because my curiosity was getting the better of me. Inside, the boutique was all marble floors, mirrors, and racks of designer dresses. The manager, a tall, elegant woman
"Are you awake?"A groggy voice inside my head was trying to argue with my dream. "Why am I seeing Adrian in my dreams it must be a nightmare"... I muttered, trying to drift back into whatever sleep was left, but the voice was persistent."Mia. Are you awake or not?"I groaned, my eyes fluttering open, and—oh, he was real. Standing right there in my room, looking down at me with a smirk that was just too self-assured for this early in the morning."Adrian? What are you doing in my room?" I snapped, pulling the sheets up. "I specifically said we’d sleep in different rooms.""And we did. I slept in the guest room," he replied smoothly, holding back a smile. “But I’m here now because we have work to do. I need you sharp and ready today.”“Sharp and—wait, ready for what?” I asked, my mind still foggy.Adrian pulled a small stack of flashcards from his coat pocket and handed them over. “Study these. It’s everything you need to know for the press conference.”I blinked, flipping through the
"Good morning," I said, stepping into the living room with a light stretch. The smell of coffee hung in the air, but what caught my attention was Adrian sitting at the dining table, already immersed in work. His laptop screen cast a soft glow on his sharp features, and even in the casual light of morning, he looked annoyingly flawless."Morning," he replied without lifting his head, his focus entirely on whatever he was typing.I hesitated for a moment, watching him, before heading toward the kitchen. "Coffee or tea?""Coffee," he answered curtly."Coffee it is," I mumbled under my breath, grabbing the kettle. A part of me wanted to make tea just to spite him, but I refrained, deciding to save my energy for more significant battles.When I returned to the dining table with two steaming mugs, I set one down in front of him and took the seat across from him. Adrian gave a brief nod, his attention still on his laptop. I sipped my coffee, letting the warmth seep into me, before breaking t
"Smile, Mia," Adrian murmured, his voice low but commanding, his hand still firm on my waist. "Don’t let them see you falter."My pulse raced as I steadied myself, forcing my lips into a practiced curve. But behind my smile, my mind was spinning. This wasn’t just overwhelming—it was suffocating.The reporter lingered for a moment longer, their camera still trained on us, before moving on to someone else. I exhaled quietly, but Adrian didn’t loosen his grip."Are you always this controlling, or is it just me who gets the special treatment?" I muttered under my breath.Adrian’s lips twitched, almost forming a smirk. "Only when someone needs it," he said coolly."Right," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because tripping on my dress is a crime punishable by public humiliation."His hand on my waist slid slightly, drawing me a fraction closer. "You’re not humiliated. You're fine," he said, his tone softer now. "This isn’t as big of a deal as you think it is. Just... follow my
Adrian’s Mom’s POV"Ma’am, you have to see this," my assistant said, her tone urgent as she handed me her phone.I took the phone, narrowing my eyes at the screen. The headline blared: "Rumors Swirl About Knight Heir’s Sham Marriage – Is It All About the Money?"Her face darkened. She dropped the phone onto her desk with a sharp clatter, her tea now forgotten. "What rubbish is this?" she hissed.Claire hesitated. "It’s all over the news, ma’am. They're saying Mrs. Knight—your son’s wife—married him for money."Alexandra's lips thinned. "Of course, they are." Her voice dripped with disdain. "What else could a low-life nobody like her want? Adrian should have known better than to bring this shame to our family."Claire stood silently, knowing better than to interrupt when I was in one of my moods.I slammed the phone on my desk. “Tell Adrian there’s a family dinner tonight. Seven sharp. I want him and his... wife there.”She nodded quickly. "Right away, ma’am."I muttered under my breat
“You’re going to be the new Managing Director of the company,” Adrian announced, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, his tone as nonchalant as if he were commenting on the weather.I froze mid-bite of my toast. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”“You heard me,” he repeated, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “You’re going to be the MD.”I stared at him, still trying to process. “MD? As in Managing Director? Adrian, are you serious? How… how does that even make sense?”He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You already know, Mia. I promised you that if you married me, you’d keep your job. I keep my promises. And this? This is just the beginning.”“But why now?” I pressed, my voice rising slightly. “This is so sudden—”“Because it’s time to shut the rumors down, once and for all,” he said, stepping closer. “There’s no way my wife is staying in a junior role like marketing analyst. It’s beneath you.”I blinked at him, completely thrown. “Beneath me?”“Yes,” he sa
“Have you seen the papers this morning?” Lisa’s voice rang through the phone, sharp and relentless, cutting through my morning haze like a knife. I groaned, clutching the phone tighter as I rolled over in bed. “Lisa, it’s barely seven. What could possibly be so urgent?” “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that your face is plastered all over the tabloids again? You should really look. Page six. You’re welcome.” The line went dead before I could respond. I stared at the phone, annoyance bubbling up in my chest. Lisa was always like this—dramatic, self-serving, and lately, not much of a friend. After all, she had no problem siding with the board members who’d accused me of stealing company funds. Still, curiosity got the better of me. Throwing off the covers, I shuffled to the door, grabbing the newspaper that had been unceremoniously shoved through the mail slot. As I flipped to page six, my heart sank. "POWER COUPLE IN THE MAKING: ADRIAN AND MIA KNIGHT RISE ABOVE SCANDAL" U
“Is it true you married him for his money?” I stopped mid-step, my coffee cup hovering dangerously close to spilling. Slowly, I turned around, hoping I hadn’t heard correctly. But there she was—one of the interns, standing wide-eyed with a nervous smile. Bold for someone at the bottom of the food chain. “Excuse me?” I said, arching a brow. The girl’s face flushed red as she fumbled with her words. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just... people have been talking. Not me! Other people. In the breakroom.” I took a deliberate step forward, locking eyes with her. “And what exactly are they saying?” She swallowed hard, clearly regretting her decision to approach me. “You know, just rumors... about you and Mr. Knight.” I set my coffee cup on the nearest desk, crossing my arms. “Let me make one thing clear. What I married Adrian Knight for—or why I married him—is none of your business. But since you seem curious, I’ll answer your question. I married him because I felt like it
Adrian 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