Chapter 4 Married to a stranger

The wedding wasn't a wedding.

There were no flowers. No music. No cake. No guests.

Just me, Xander, his lawyer, and a city clerk in a gray office that smelled like paper and silence.

I wore a white dress that was way too expensive for a fake marriage. Sleek satin, off-the-shoulder, with a slit up the side that made me feel like a scandal waiting to happen. Xander wore black on black. Tailored. Sharp. Cold.

We stood side by side like two strangers playing dress-up.

> "Do you, Xander Elias Knight, take Reina Moreno to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

He didn't flinch. "I do."

> "Do you, Reina Moreno, take Xander Elias Knight to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

I hesitated.

Not because I was unsure.

But because I could feel everything change in that pause. My past. My future. My entire identity. All shifting in one breath.

"I do," I whispered.

We signed the license. No kiss. No I-love-yous. Just signatures, stamped and sealed.

And just like that, I was married.

Mrs. Reina Knight.

It didn't feel real until the clerk said, "Congratulations," and I caught my reflection in the glass.

I looked like a wife.

I didn't feel like one.

---

The ride back to the penthouse was dead silent.

Xander sat beside me, scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened. Like we'd just wrapped up a business meeting and not, you know, changed our lives.

I stared out the window, trying not to think too hard. Trying not to panic.

Ten million dollars.

That's what this was about.

Ten million reasons to breathe and smile and not freak out.

When we got back to the penthouse, I kicked off my heels and walked straight to the fridge for water. My throat was dry. My brain was fried.

Xander followed me in, jacket tossed over his shoulder.

"We have a charity gala tomorrow night," he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Cool," I said, chugging water like my life depended on it. "Do I just wear, like, whatever?"

He gave me a look. "There's a stylist coming in the morning. She'll take care of it."

Of course there was a stylist. There's always a stylist in billionaire world.

"What am I supposed to do all day? Just... wait around in luxury robes and stare at the skyline?"

"If you want." He poured himself a drink. "You can use the gym. Spa. Theater."

"I meant like... what's my actual job in this marriage?"

He leaned against the counter, swirling his glass. "Smile when I need you to. Show up when I tell you. And don't fall in love with me."

My heart stuttered.

"Wow," I muttered. "Don't worry. That won't be a problem."

"Good." He downed the rest of his drink and walked off, just like that.

And I stood there, in my fake wedding dress, wondering what kind of mess I'd gotten myself into.

---

The next morning, I woke up in a king-sized bed that felt more like a cloud than a mattress. For a moment, I forgot everything. The contract. The marriage. Xander Knight.

But then I turned and saw the white gold wedding band on my finger.

And it all came rushing back.

My phone buzzed.

Stylist will arrive in 30 minutes. Be ready. – X

Of course.

I showered, slipped into one of the silk robes his assistant had laid out, and did my best to look like someone who belonged here. Even if deep down I felt like a tourist on borrowed time.

The stylist-her name was Elia-showed up with racks of designer gowns, boxes of heels, and a makeup team that looked like they belonged on a Vogue shoot.

By the time they were done, I didn't recognize myself.

My hair was swept up into a sleek knot, my eyes smoky and dramatic, my lips a bold, confident red. The dress they picked was silver, fitted, and glittering like stars trapped in fabric.

When I walked into the living room, Xander looked up from his phone.

And stared.

Just for a second.

Then he blinked and said, "That'll do."

That'll do?

I looked like a freaking goddess and all I got was "that'll do"?

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, thanks, Prince Charming."

He smirked, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

I hesitated for a second before slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow.

His body was warm, his suit tailored to absolute perfection. Being close to him was like standing next to danger wrapped in Armani.

We stepped into the private elevator together. I could smell his cologne-clean, sharp, expensive. I tried not to breathe too deeply.

"Twelve events over the next six weeks," he said, scrolling through something on his phone. "We'll be photographed. Watched. Every detail matters. No surprises."

I swallowed hard. "So we're just pretending to be madly in love, huh?"

He glanced sideways. "I never said anything about 'madly.'"

Cold. So cold.

But my fingers still tingled where they touched his arm.

---

The charity gala was pure chaos and diamonds.

Flashbulbs exploded the second we stepped out of the car. Cameras clicked. Reporters shouted our names. I froze, but Xander didn't. He wrapped an arm around my waist like he'd done it a thousand times and whispered, "Smile."

So I did.

And somehow, we looked like the perfect couple.

He guided me through the crowd, nodding to executives, socialites, and influencers. Everyone stared. Everyone whispered.

I was Reina Knight now.

People looked at me like I was someone.

And for the first time... I kinda felt like I was.

We posed for a few photos. Someone asked how we met. Xander answered before I could mess up.

> "At a friend's wedding. Love at first sight."

I almost choked.

He said it so smoothly, like it wasn't a total lie.

I glanced up at him and saw the tiniest flicker of something in his eyes. Humor? Mischief? I couldn't tell. But it made my heart skip.

This man was dangerous.

And not just to my bank account.

To my feelings.

---

Later that night, after the crowd had faded and we were back in the penthouse, I peeled off the gown and collapsed onto my bed with a groan.

My phone buzzed.

> Xander: "You did well tonight."

I stared at the message for a second too long.

Then I typed:

> Me: "So did you. You're very convincing."

A moment passed.

> Xander: "Let's keep it that way."

And just like that, he reminded me again: this wasn't love.

It was business.

And business didn't feel like butterflies in your stomach or sparks when your hands accidentally touched.

Right?