Nancy stood in front of the mirror, wearing a dress that felt more like a cage than couture. Ivory satin. Designer lace. Worth more than her entire college tuition.
But her eyes—her eyes were hollow. This wasn't a fairy tale. This was a transaction.
A knock at the dressing room door broke the silence.
"Nancy," came the cool voice of Adrian's assistant, "he's waiting."
Of course he is, she thought bitterly. The great Adrian Blackwood, marrying the poor coffee shop girl like it was just another business deal.
---
Ten Minutes Later – The Ceremony
The wedding was private. Lavish, but cold. A glass hall filled with white roses, a string quartet playing some expensive piece she didn't recognize. No friends. No family. Just press, lawyers, and a priest.
Adrian stood at the altar, stoic, unreadable. As she walked down the aisle, her heart pounded.
He didn't even look at her.
When she reached him, he finally spoke—quiet enough that only she could hear. "Let's get this over with."
Nancy lifted her chin. "Trust me, I'm not here for the romance."
The priest's words blurred. Vows were exchanged, rings slipped onto fingers like shackles. Then, without so much as a kiss, it was done.
Mrs. Adrian Blackwood.
She wanted to laugh. Or scream. Maybe both.
---
Later That Night – Blackwood Penthouse
The elevator doors opened into a penthouse that screamed luxury—marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights glittering like stars.
Nancy stepped inside slowly, suitcase in hand. Adrian was already pouring himself a drink by the fireplace.
"This is your room," he said, pointing down a hall. "We'll keep our distance. You do your part, I'll do mine."
"And what is my part exactly? Smiling for your board members? Playing trophy wife?"
His jaw tightened. "You signed the contract. Be grateful."
"Grateful?" she shot back. "You're the one who needed a puppet to please your dying grandmother. Let's not pretend I begged for this."
His eyes darkened. "Watch your mouth, Nancy."
She stepped closer, matching his energy. "Or what? You'll scowl me to death?"
A long silence hung between them—crackling, charged. And then, without warning, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the silence.
---
Midnight
Nancy couldn't sleep. She stood on the balcony in an oversized robe, staring out over the city, wondering how she'd gotten here.
From café tips and lecture notes to diamond rings and ice-cold glares. She should feel safe. Protected. But she'd never felt more alone.
Behind her, the door creaked open. Adrian stood there, holding his glass, silent for a moment.
"You're not what I expected," he said finally.
She didn't look at him. "Neither are you."
"I loved someone else," he said quietly. "Still do."
"I know. Lily."
His silence was answer enough.
Nancy turned toward him, eyes steady. "Then here's the deal. You don't pretend I'm her. And I won't pretend you're someone worth loving."
They stared at each other in the moonlight—two strangers bound by circumstance, fire and ice held together by a thread.
And that's when it began.
Not love.
Not yet.
But something dangerous.
Something neither of them could stop.