Chapter 33
MYA
It’s my wedding day.
The words loop in my head as sunlight spills across the penthouse suite and Tiana tugs at my hair for the third time.
“Hold still,” she scolds, a brush clenched between her teeth while she pins another curl in place.
“I am still,” I mutter. “You’re just aggressive.”
“It’s not my fault you keep flinching. You need to look perfect. It has to look real.”
“It’s not real,” I grumble, but my heart skips anyway. My stomach has been twisting itself in knots since dawn. Real or not, I’m about to walk down an aisle in Paris for my wedding. To Worth.
Tiana hums under her breath. “So… Did you tell Mom and Dad?”
I freeze. “About the wedding?”
“Yeah.” She arches a brow at me in the mirror. “It’ll be kind of hard to hide the whole getting married in Paris thing.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “No, I didn’t. I honestly didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding completely unhinged. ‘Hey, Mom, I’m marrying my boss in Paris tomorrow, but don’t worry—it’s just for business!’”
Tiana snorts, shaking her head. “Good point.”
“I’ll tell them the truth eventually.” I smooth the silk of my robe over my knees. “Once we’re back and things settle. I just want to be able to explain it properly, you know? Mom’s going to be shocked. Devon, too. But once they hear everything, I think they’ll understand.”
Tiana’s expression softens. “They will.”
I nod, but the reassurance doesn’t stop the ache building in my chest.
I stare at my reflection while Tiana works, and the woman looking back at me almost fools me, too.
When I first opened my eyes this morning, the pillow fort I built last night was a heap on the floor. I don’t remember when it fell, only the heavy warmth of Worth beside me, the faint trace of his cologne still clinging to the sheets.
And Worth’s fingers giving me the best orgasm I’ve ever had.
The fact that he was touching me while I was asleep should freak me out, but when I woke to his strong hand between my thighs, his hot breath on my shoulder, and his hard cock pressing against me—I don’t know what I would’ve done if he had stopped.
A blush creeps up my neck even now. I shouldn’t like how easily he gets under my skin, how every move of his body rewires something inside mine. But I do.
Worth was already gone when I got up. No trace of him, except a folded note.
Went to the gym with Griffin. We’ll get ready in the other suite so you and Tiana have privacy.
“Stop smiling like that,” my sister says, snapping me out of it. “You’re just supposed to be nervous, not lovestruck.”
I roll my eyes, though she isn’t wrong about the nerves. My palms are damp, my pulse uneven.
Tiana dusts a shimmer across my cheekbones. “Worth is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”
A strange ache blooms in my chest. I look away, exhaling slowly as Paris hums beyond the windows. The dress hangs near the door, waiting. It feels too beautiful, too sincere for a pretend wedding, but it’s mine now, just like this day.
It’s almost time to leave, and I hear low male voices drifting in from the other side of the suite. Worth and Griffin are back. Tiana perks up instantly, abandoning the last of the makeup brushes on the vanity.
“They’re here!” she whispers, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Okay, don’t move. I’m going to wait outside so I can record Worth’s face when he sees you.”
Before I can protest, she’s gone, heels clicking down the hall, and I’m left alone in the bedroom with my racing pulse.
For some reason, this part—the reveal—feels like the most nerve-racking one of the entire day. Even more than the ceremony. What if he thinks the dress is too much? What if he doesn’t like what he sees?
I glance at my reflection one last time, reminding myself I shouldn’t care—that it’s not real.
The gown hugs me perfectly. I lift the Cartier earrings from their velvet box and fasten them through my lobes, then adjust the matching necklace until it sits neatly at my collarbone. My fingers smooth over the front of my dress again, pressing down invisible creases I’ve already fixed many times.
My stomach does a slow, traitorous flip as I finally step into the hallway.
When I round the corner, there’s a shift in the air. Tiana’s already got tears in her eyes, clutching her phone, while Griffin lets out a low whistle.
“Wow, Jones,” he says, shaking his head with an impressed grin.
My sister lifts her phone to record. “Do a little twirl, I need this for posterity.”
Griffin groans. “She’s not a debutante, Tiana.”
But I can’t help laughing, spinning just enough for the dress to flare around my legs.
And when I steady myself again, my eyes finally find Worth.
He hasn’t said a word, though the look on his face says everything. It makes my breath catch.
He swallows hard, throat flexing, then takes a few slow, hesitant steps toward me. I’m aware of Tiana sniffling somewhere off to the side, Griffin muttering something I can’t make out, but all I can see is him.
When Worth stops in front of me, his fingers find mine. He leans in close, his breath brushing my ear, voice a low rasp.
“You look devastatingly beautiful, Kitten. Like every dream I didn’t know I had.”
The words steal the air from my lungs. Worth Miller doesn’t say things like that.
I can’t find anything to say back. All I can do is look at him—really look—and I realize that for once, there’s no mask.
He lifts my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles. His mouth lingers there a second too long, as if memorizing the feel of my skin. My cheeks burn, and I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips. For the first time today, I forget that any of this is supposed to be pretend.
Finally on our way, I watch the city from the window, silently. To me, the world feels suspended, like it knows what’s about to happen.
When we stop, I blink up at the small chapel tucked at the corner of a cobblestone square.
It’s nothing extravagant—old limestone walls, ivy curling up its sides, and a single bell tower rising above it.
The heavy wooden doors creak as Griffin pushes them open, revealing rows of worn pews and sunlight spilling through stained glass in shades of gold and rose.
It’s quiet inside. Sacred, in a way that makes my skin prickle.
Worth offers me a hand to help me step over the threshold. I take it, but I let go the second we’re inside.
The officiant, a small man with kind eyes and a French accent, waits near the front. “Monsieur Miller, Mademoiselle Jones. Everything is ready.”
Tiana squeezes my hand before taking her place beside Griffin, who looks far too grumpy for a best man. Worth stands beside me, tall and composed in his black suit.
I shouldn’t stare, but I do.
It’s not just how handsome he looks. It’s how he makes me feel.
Safe. Seen. Alive in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.
And it hits me all at once how unfair this is. Because if things had been different, if this wasn’t all for show, maybe we could’ve made it here for real. Maybe I wouldn’t be standing beside him pretending.
The thought aches, like something pulled too tight in my chest, and I force my gaze back to the officiant before it can swallow me whole.
The words wash over me, blurring together, muffled beneath the rapid beats of my heart. My dress feels too heavy, my pulse too loud.
When the officiant turns to Worth and says, “Do you, Worth Miller, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Worth’s answer is immediate. “I do.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
“And do you, Mya Jones, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
There’s a heartbeat of silence. Then I lift my chin, steadying my voice. “I do.”
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.