Chapter 4 Maverick Black

I watch Avery's face go pale as she stares at Maverick's text message. Her fingers tighten around the edge of the table until her knuckles turn white, but her jaw sets in a way that tells me she's not backing down. Most people would be running for the door by now.

She's not most people.

"Eight hours," I say, glancing at the clock on the wall. "That's how long we have to turn you into my wife."

Avery runs her hand through her messy hair, a gesture I'm starting to recognize as her thinking pose. "What exactly does that involve?"

I pull out my phone and start scrolling through contacts. "Shopping. Lots of shopping. Hair, makeup, the works. By tonight, you need to look like you belong on my arm."

Her shoulders stiffen, and she crosses her arms over her chest. "There's nothing wrong with how I look."

"You're right. There isn't." I glance up from my phone, taking in her natural beauty despite the smeared makeup and rumpled clothes. "But Maverick will be watching for any sign that you don't belong in my world. Your clothes, your jewelry, even how you hold yourself will be under scrutiny."

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and I can see her confidence wavering. "I don't know if I can do this, Rowen. What if I say the wrong thing? What if he sees right through me?"

The uncertainty in her voice does something strange to my chest. I set my phone down and move closer to her, careful not to invade her personal space. She's already spooked enough.

"Look at me," I say quietly.

She lifts her eyes to mine, and I see fear there, but also determination. Good.

"You held your own with me last night for three hours. You challenged my ideas, made me laugh, and never once seemed intimidated by who I am. Maverick Black is just another man with money and an ego. You can handle him."

Her lips twitch in what might be the beginning of a smile. "Easy for you to say. You've been dealing with people like him your whole life."

"No, I haven't." The words come out more honest than I intended. "I grew up middle class, Avery. My parents were teachers. Everything I have, I built from nothing after they died."

Her expression softens, and she uncrosses her arms. "I didn't know that."

"Most people don't. They see the money and assume I was born into it." I shrug, trying to keep the conversation from getting too personal. "The point is, we both know what it's like to not belong. The difference is, I've had years to perfect the act."

She nods slowly, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "So what's the plan?"

I pick up my phone again and dial a number I haven't used in months. "We start with making you look the part. Then we work on your story."

"What story?"

"How we met. How we fell in love. Why we got married so quickly. Maverick will ask questions, and our answers need to match perfectly."

The phone rings twice before a familiar voice answers. "Rowen Knight. I thought you'd forgotten my number."

"Hello, Sophia. I need a favor."

"When don't you?" Sophia Chen has been styling Manhattan's elite for fifteen years. If anyone can transform Avery in six hours, it's her. "What kind of favor?"

"The expensive kind. I need a complete makeover. Hair, makeup, wardrobe. Everything."

"For the redhead the tabloids are buzzing about?"

I freeze. Beside me, Avery's eyes widen. "What tabloids?"

"Oh, honey," Sophia's laugh tinkles through the phone. "You really think you can get married in Vegas without someone noticing? There are already photos online."

I close my eyes and count to five. "How bad?"

"Depends on your definition of bad. The pictures are grainy, but it's definitely you two leaving the chapel. The headlines are... creative."

Avery grabs my arm, her fingers digging into my skin. "What headlines?" she whispers.

"Send me everything," I tell Sophia. "And clear your schedule. We'll be there in four hours."

"This is going to cost you."

"It always does."

I hang up and immediately start pulling up news websites on my phone. Avery leans over my shoulder, and I catch a whiff of her shampoo. Something fruity and innocent that doesn't match the situation we're in.

The first headline makes my stomach drop: "Billionaire Bad Boy's Secret Wedding: Who Is Mystery Bride?"

The second one is worse: "Rowen Knight's Vegas Mistake: Marriage or Business Deal?"

Avery's breath catches as she reads over my shoulder. "Oh God. They think I'm some kind of gold digger, don't they?"

The pictures are exactly what Sophia described. Grainy security footage of us leaving the chapel, both obviously drunk, with me carrying her shoes while she laughs at something I apparently said. We look happy. Genuinely happy.

That might be the most dangerous part.

"This actually works in our favor," I say, closing the browser.

"How can this possibly work in our favor? There are pictures of me drunk in a wedding dress that I don't even remember wearing!"

She starts pacing again, her hands gesturing wildly. I can see the panic setting in, and I know I need to get her focused before she bolts.

"Because now everyone knows we're married. Maverick can't threaten to expose something that's already public. Instead, he'll have to find another angle."

"What kind of angle?"

"He'll try to prove that our marriage is fake. That you're just a paid actress or that I'm using you for some business advantage."

She stops pacing and stares at me. "Isn't that exactly what we're doing?"

"Yes. But he can't prove that if we're convincing enough."

My phone buzzes with a text from Sophia: Saw the photos. Bring her to the penthouse salon. We have work to do.

"We need to go," I tell Avery. "The sooner we get you ready, the better our chances tonight."

She doesn't move. Just stands there looking at me with those green eyes that seem to see too much.

"What?" I ask.

"You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Someone colder. More ruthless. The kind of man who would marry a stranger for business and not care about the consequences for her."

Her honesty catches me off guard. Most people tell me what they think I want to hear, not what they actually think.

"Maybe I am that cold," I say. "Maybe I just hide it better than most."

She shakes her head, and a strand of hair falls across her face. "No. I saw you when you talked about your parents. I see you now, worrying about how this affects me. You're not as heartless as you pretend to be."

The observation hits too close to home. I've spent years building walls around myself, and this woman I've known for less than twenty-four hours is already finding cracks.

"Don't mistake business pragmatism for caring, Avery. I need you functional for this to work. That's all this is."

But even as I say the words, I know they're not entirely true. There's something about her that gets under my skin in a way I don't understand. Maybe it's her honesty. Maybe it's the way she looks at me like she's trying to solve a puzzle.

Or maybe it's the way she makes me want to be the man she thinks she sees.

"Whatever you say, husband," she says with a small smile that transforms her entire face.

The word hits me like a physical blow. Husband. I've never been anyone's husband. Never wanted to be. But hearing it from her lips makes something twist in my chest.

"We should go," I say, more abruptly than necessary.

She nods and heads toward the bathroom. "Let me just grab my things."

As soon as she's out of sight, I lean against the wall and run my hands through my hair. What the hell am I doing? This was supposed to be a simple business arrangement. Six months of playing house to protect my company.

But nothing about Avery Sage feels simple.

When she emerges from the bathroom five minutes later, she's cleaned off her makeup and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She looks young and fresh and completely out of place in this luxury suite.

She also looks beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with expensive clothes or professional styling.

"Ready?" she asks.

No, I think. I'm not ready for any of this.

"Let's go," I say instead.

As we head for the door, my phone buzzes with another text. This one stops me cold.

Looking forward to meeting your lovely wife tonight. I hope she's prepared for what she's getting into. - M

Avery sees my expression change. "What is it?"

I show her the message, and I watch her face pale again. But she doesn't run. She doesn't even flinch.

"He's trying to scare us," she says quietly.

"It's working."

She looks up at me, and there's steel in her eyes that wasn't there an hour ago. "Good. Let him think he has the upper hand. It'll make it that much sweeter when we prove him wrong."

And that's when I realize I might be in more trouble than I thought. Because Avery Sage isn't just going to be my fake wife.

She's going to be my partner in this war.

The question is, can I trust myself not to forget that it's all pretend?