Fake Boyfriend - Chapter 2

Raisel – POV

“Fine. Let’s fake date,” I whispered in response to Soren’s bold proposal. My voice wavered, but my heart betrayed me with a flutter. His braces were gone, and so was the awkward nerd I once knew. Standing before me now was a man who looked as though he’d stepped out of a European magazine—dark, brooding eyes, sharp features, and a presence that demanded attention. He was utterly unrecognizable, and it made my chest tighten.

The paparazzi swarmed us like vultures, their camera flashes blinding and relentless. My head throbbed as questions were hurled at us from every direction. Before I could react, Soren’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him. His hold was firm yet protective, shielding me from the chaos.

“Mr. Soren Dalton, we need to ask Mrs. Raisel Warden some questions,” one of them shouted.

“You will not ask any questions of my girlfriend,” Soren stated with a calm, steely edge to his voice. The word “girlfriend” hung in the air like a firecracker, silencing them for a split second before their questions exploded louder than before.

Soren ignored them, his grip unwavering as he guided me into the sleek black limousine waiting at the curb. Their shouts chased after us like a storm.

“Scandal! An affair! Husband and wife parting ways in the most dramatic fallout!” they screamed, their voices rising as the car doors closed.

I barely heard them. Soren’s hands gently cupped my ears as the car pulled away, drowning out the noise. His touch lingered for a moment, warmth radiating through me.

“You’re safe now,” he said, pulling away too soon. The absence of his touch left me cold.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. He handed me his handkerchief—pristine and crisp, just like him. “You came at the right time. I don’t know how I’d have handled this alone.”

Soren gave a small smile. “Maybe karma finally decided to pay you back.”

A memory flashed through my mind—Soren, years ago, bullied for his lunch money. How I’d grabbed my phone, played a police siren, and watched the bullies scatter. I had saved him once. Now, it felt as though he was saving me.

His hand grazed mine, pulling me from the memory. I looked up at him, startled by the intensity in his gaze.

“Did you know about it?” he asked suddenly, his tone cutting through the silence.

I froze. “Know about what?”

“Alaric’s affair,” he clarified, his dark eyes searching mine.

I shook my head, my throat tightening. “I was a fool to ignore the signs—his distance, his withdrawal. I thought he was just stressed from work. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he’d betray me like this.” My voice broke, and the tears I’d been holding back spilled over.

Soren stared at me blankly for a moment, then said, “You can’t go back there, Raisel. Not to the house. Not to that life.”

“Can you call Hazel? I’ll stay with her for now,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice.

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re my girlfriend now—remember? And the paparazzi won’t stop. They’ll follow you wherever you go. Staying with me is your safest option.”

“What should we do?” I asked, my voice trembling as I bit my lip. I knew the media. I knew how ruthless they could be.

“You’ll stay with me, Raisins,” Soren said with a smirk, using the nickname I hated. He knew it annoyed me, and for a fleeting second, I saw the boy I used to know.

“Soren, I can’t—”

“Too late,” he interrupted. “I’ve already made the announcement. Besides, I’ll call Hazel to meet us at my penthouse.”

I nodded reluctantly. He was right—there was nowhere else to go.

Soren’s penthouse was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered sweeping views of the city skyline, the golden lights shimmering like stars in the distance. The space was modern, sleek, and sophisticated—a stark contrast to the cluttered, nerdy dorm room I remembered from college.

Soren himself had transformed. His jawline was sharper, his build stronger, and his light blue blazer only added to his allure. When he removed it, revealing the crisp white shirt beneath, I caught the faint outline of muscle beneath the fabric. I quickly looked away, embarrassed by my thoughts.

“When did you move to New York?” I asked, breaking the silence as I sank into the plush sofa.

“Few days a ago,” he replied simply, walking to the bar. He poured two drinks and handed one to me.

“You remember what I like?” I asked, surprised he still knew my drink of choice.

He didn’t answer, just watched as I downed the vodka in one gulp and poured myself another.

“What are you planning to do, Raisel?” he finally asked, his tone unreadable.

I slammed the glass down on the table, my frustration boiling over. “First, my name is Raisel, not Raisins,” I snapped. He rolled his eyes but said nothing. “Second, I’m going to divorce that bastard. No—scratch that—I’m going to destroy him.” My voice cracked, the fury giving way to tears.

Hazel arrived moments later, pulling me into a tight hug. “We’ll get through this,” she said firmly.

But then her tone changed as she turned to Soren. “And you! Seriously? Acting like Raisel’s boyfriend? The internet is on fire. Half the world thinks she’s the villain, the other half thinks she’s a gold digger.”

“Why am I the one being dragged through the mud?” I shouted.

“Alaric’s PR team is handling the situation,” Hazel said bitterly. “He’s already spreading rumors, claiming you and Soren were having an affair during your marriage.”

My heart sank. “What?”

Hazel hesitated. “There are photos, You and Soren. Intimate in photos. They’re all over the internet.”

I gasped. “But… how? An unknown number sent those same images with Davina and Alaric it was same photo it seems some morphed it replacing me and Soren. I swear I screenshotted them before blocking the sender, but now—” I frantically unlocked my phone. The chat was gone. No messages. No images. Nothing.

“Maybe your phone was hacked,” Hazel suggested, but her skeptical look said she didn’t believe me that unknown sent me this.

“I would never betray Alaric.” I said. “This is all lies.”

“I believe you won’t do anything like this.” Hazel calrified as I looked at in tears. Her eyes sympathy and in pain for me being in such situation.

I sank into the sofa, exhausted. “What do I want?” I whispered, repeating Soren’s earlier question. “I want revenge.”

For a moment, the room fell silent. Then Soren leaned forward, his predatory gaze locking onto mine.

“And how far are you willing to go for that?”

I swallowed hard, a shiver running down my spine. His tone was calm, but something in his eyes made me feel as though I’d just made a deal with the devil.