The officiant nods, smiling. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Worth reaches for my hand again, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, and the touch sends a tremor through me. The moment our eyes meet, he leans in and kisses me.
It’s soft, brief, almost chaste, yet it still leaves me breathless. When he pulls back, I force a small smile, because that’s what a new bride would do.
He keeps hold of my hand, and I somehow can’t tell where the act ends and the truth begins.
And that’s when it hits me. I think I’m falling for my fake husband.
34
WORTH
I’m married.
Again.
And it’s to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Mya is sitting beside me now, her flawless skin gleaming under the restaurant’s candlelight, the silk of her dress catching every shimmer in the room. Her lips curve into a smile as she listens to Tiana, completely unaware of how undone she makes me just by existing.
My wife.
The words don’t feel real. Mya might’ve married me out of obligation, to help me save face, but that doesn’t change the fact that she wears my ring now. That she signed my name beside hers. That she’s mine in ways I can’t quite define.
We share a last name. Soon, we’ll share my home.
And maybe, if the universe ever stops toying with me, we could even share more.
I glance around the private dining room. Half the restaurant is closed off for us—a ridiculous display of wealth and indulgence, if I say so myself. Still, I went through with it, because Mya deserves it. And we need privacy. Anyway, itworked out, because she hired a damn opera singer to entertain the four of us for the evening.
A string quartet plays softly in the background while the opera singer takes a break before the next piece. It’s excessive, over-the-top, and entirelyMya,to try and get a reaction out of me.
I’m slouched casually in my seat, sipping from my glass, as if the night means nothing. But deep down, I caretoomuch.
Dinner passes in waves of laughter, wine, and conversation. It should feel like any other night, except it doesn’t. Not when Mya is close enough that her perfume teases me every time she moves. Not when I can feel the warmth of her thigh through the layers of fabric between us.
She laughs at something Griffin says. I look at her, and all I can think about is the faint tremor in her breath when I touched her last night. The way her body fit so perfectly against mine, like it’s meant to.
I drag in a breath and rake a hand through my hair, trying to ignore the heat crawling under my skin.
“Worth!”
Griffin’s deep voice pulls me back. He’s watching me with a knowing look in his eyes that makes me want to wipe it off his face.
“You good, man?” His eyebrows are raised. “You’ve been staring into the void for a solid minute.”
I blink. “Just thinking,” I mutter, clearing my throat.
“About?”
“Business,” I lie easily, lifting my glass.
After dinner, we make our way back to the penthouse suite. Mya’s quiet beside me, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes trained outside the window.
When we reach the hotel, Griffin and Tiana barely say a word and just exchange quick goodnights and disappear into their rooms.
That leaves the two of us standing in the living room, alone.