4

The photographer adjusted his camera, the relentless flashes casting sharp shadows against the walls. Wyatt stood tall, his sharp gray eyes scanning the scene.

Juniper, in her role as Sophia Carter, kept her composure, though her pulse quickened every time Wyatt's gaze flickered her way.

"Alright, Mr. Blackwell, Ms. Carter," the photographer said, his voice wavering slightly under Wyatt's cold stare. "Let's get started. Stand closer...closer than that."

Wyatt raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

The photographer swallowed hard. "I-I just need more intimacy. The tabloids want passion!"

Juniper forced a confident smile, even though Wyatt's dominant presence made her insides churn. "Shall we?" she asked, her voice steady but careful.

Wyatt chuckled softly, his amusement barely hidden. "By all means, Ms. Carter." He stepped forward, his hand resting on her waist with deliberate ease.

"Perfect, perfect!" the photographer exclaimed nervously. "Now, Mr. Blackwell, lean in—look at her like she's the only person in the world."

Wyatt's smirk faded, replaced by a cool, unreadable expression. He leaned closer, his gray eyes locking onto hers. The intensity made Juniper's breath hitch, but she kept her mask of confidence firmly in place.

"Convincing enough?" Wyatt murmured, his voice low, just for her.

"Maybe tone down the glaring," Juniper replied quietly, trying to match his calm. "You look more like you're planning to kill me."

Wyatt chuckled under his breath, his grip on her waist tightening slightly. "That's what they paid for. Blackwell charm, isn't it?"

The photographer interupted, sweat visibly beading on his forehead. "Ms. Carter, place your hand on his chest. And, um, Mr. Blackwell...can you tilt your head as if—uh—you're about to kiss her?"

Wyatt's gaze darkened, and the photographer visibly recoiled. 

Juniper stepped in, smiling sweetly to defuse the tension. "Let's not scare the poor man, Wyatt."

Wyatt turned his attention back to her, Wyatt?, She's already on first name basis?= He was shocked.

His lips twitching in amusement. He tightened his grip around her waist pulling her closer.

Juniper swallowed her nerves as she crashed against him and rested her hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. She tilted her head slightly, their faces mere inches apart.

"Closer, closer!" the photographer urged, though his voice cracked.

Wyatt leaned in just enough to make Juniper's pulse race, his brth warm against her cheek. "You're awfully calm for someone in your position," he murmured, his words like a taunt.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Juniper replied, her voice cool but her heart pounding. "It's just a photo."

His lips curved into a sly smile. "Is it now?"

The photographer clapped his hands nervously. "Excellent! Excellent chemistry! Just one more shot, Ms. Carter, rest your head on Mr. Blackwell's shoulder."

Juniper hesitated, glancing at Wyatt, whose smirk deepened. "Go ahead, Ms. Carter," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Let's not keep the tabloids waiting."

She carefully leaned her head against his shoulder, her breath catching as the scent of his cologne enveloped her. Wyatt's hand brushed against her back, a gesture so slight it could've been accidental—or deliberate.

"Done!" the photographer exclaimed, stepping back.

Juniper quickly stepped away, forcing a composed smile. Wyatt, however, didn't bother hiding his disinterest. He adjusted his cufflinks with meticulous care, as though the entire charade had been nothing but a chore.

"Well, Ms. Carter," he said, his tone sharp and cold, "it seems we've given them their story."

Juniper nodded, her confident self almost falling under the weight of his gaze. "Yes, we have," she said quietly.

As he turned to leave, his voice drifted back. "Try not to let all the attention go to your head, Sophia...both of us know this is a marriage of convenience."

Juniper exhaled slowly. He didn't know...yet. But she couldn't shake the feeling that he was toying with her, testing her mask. And somehow, she suspected he enjoyed it.

As she turned to walk out, fate had other plans.

An old woman, frail and hunched, walked into the room, her cane tapping against the floor with each step. Juniper didn't see her in time.

"Watch out!" Wyatt called out suddenly, but it was too late.

Juniper collided with her, stumbling backward. She tried to regain her balance, but instead, she fell straight into Wyatt's chest. His arms shot out instinctively, catching her, and she froze in his embrace, her breath catching in her throat.

His eyes locked on hers, as though searching for something...

The silence stretched on, wrapping around them like a cocoon, suffocating and heavy. She tried to look away, but his gaze was magnetic, pulling her in like a force beyond her control. His eyes were dark, intense, a storm swirling beneath the surface.

Every detail of him was clear in this moment—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed under his perfectly tailored suit, the subtle flex of his hand holding her waist. 

"You are not Sophia!" The old woman let out a sharp gasp, and in the awkward silence that followed, her voice felt like a slap of reality.

The words struck Juniper like a bolt of lightning. Her pulse raced, and her entire body went cold. Her stomach dropped, and for a split second, she couldn't breathe. 

Wyatt’s arms around her tightened, but his gaze shifted from the old woman to Juniper with a new intensity. His eyes narrowed, a dangerous gleam flashing in them.

Juniper’s heart skipped a beat. She straightened herself, stepping back from Wyatt’s hold. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the old woman. "What... what do you mean?" she stammered, her voice betraying the panic bubbling up inside her.

The woman didn’t look away from her; her eyes remained fixed on Juniper, filled with a strange knowing. "Who are you?"

Is this over for me? Will I not be able to save my brother? Juniper was terrified.