8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Jonathan
P eople say wedding day jitters make you question if you love your fiancée enough to marry her.
Then there’s me—not even half in love—yet still nervous. Maybe I should call this off, offer Zain enough money to keep my position, and walk away.
“You’re sweating,” Reed mutters, slipping a handkerchief into my palm.
I wipe my forehead, staring straight ahead, as I wait for Emma to walk down the aisle.
“Tell me it’s not too late to bail,” I mutter.
Reed just laughs. “I should remind you that you’re marrying my sister, so I won’t let you break her heart.”
I snort. “I should remind you that none of this is real. Besides, your sister doesn’t even have a heart to begin with.”
He chuckles. “Don’t even go there.”
I let it drop.
My backyard has been completely transformed for the wedding—twinkling fairy lights, soft floral arrangements, and a pristine white aisle runner have made the familiar space beautiful. It’s the kind of scene that should belong to a real couple. The guests, of which there are just a handful, are already seated, and from across the crowd, Zain watches me with thinly veiled disdain.
He’ll be the first to celebrate if this wedding doesn’t happen.
Soft piano music starts playing, and my heartbeat stumbles. This is it. Emma will be walking down the aisle any second now.
My nerves are shot. What if we don’t pull this off? What if someone stands up mid-ceremony and shouts, “ This is all fake!” What if the officiant sees through us and calls the whole thing off?
But nothing happens.
Reed squeezes my shoulder before stepping away to escort his sister.
And a few moments later, Emma steps into view.
Her fiery red hair catches the light first, then the dress. Deep green, just as she told me, but somehow more breathtaking than I imagined.
I’ve known Emma for years, and I’ve never looked at her this way. That realization unsettles me. I’m terrified I’ve started something I can’t control.
She approaches, her smile bright enough to rival the string lights above us.
“Your smile looks so natural, it almost fooled me,” she whispers, close enough that only I can hear. My pulse trips. “I hope mine doesn’t look too fake.”
Right. This is a ruse.
But for a second, it didn’t feel like one. My heart forgot the script.
Her joy looks effortless, but I catch the moment her smile wavers. It’s barely noticeable.
“Your smile is perfect. You get extra points for being a very good actress,” I say, and she grins even wider.
The ceremony begins with Reed at my side and Mia at hers. It goes off without a hitch, long enough to fool everyone.
But I notice Emma’s eyes dimming the longer we stand here, pretending. Guilt tightens in my chest.
After the ceremony, Zain strolls over, slow and smug.
“Congratulations, newlyweds,” he drawls. “I don’t know how you pulled this off, but you won’t get away with it.”
“Thank you,” I say brightly, pretending not to have heard the threat. He studies us, looking for cracks in our perfect facade. Finding none, he turns around and leaves.
Emma sighs. “I can’t believe he’s an even bigger pain in the butt than you are.” She smirks. “You’re a saint compared to him, actually.”
I snort. “I’m a saint compared to most people. You just happen to see a harsher side of me.”
“Why?” she asks, her voice quiet, almost unsure.
The question catches me off guard. I don’t know what to say. Lately, we’ve been challenging this dynamic—this constant push and pull. And suddenly, I wish we weren’t just enemies. I wish we were at least…friends.
But that thought is too dangerous.
“Never mind,” Emma says when I take too long to answer.
I sigh. “I don’t want to go down that road, Emma. Not here. Not now.” My voice lowers. “Anyone could overhear us.”
“You’re right.” She forces a smile and looks anywhere but at me. “Excuse me, I need to find Mia. I’ll be handing the bouquet directly to her instead of throwing it. Not sure it’ll work considering this marriage isn’t real, but I figure it’s the thought that counts.”
She walks away, but her words sit heavy in my chest.
I grab a glass of champagne, but it does nothing to drown the unease curling in my stomach.
From a distance, I watch Emma move through the crowd, swaying slightly with each step, as if dancing to her own silent music…except the song doesn’t sound happy.
A man I don’t recognize steps up beside me.
“Congratulations, sir. Looks like you get to keep the company after all,” he says.
I smile, hoping it reaches my eyes.
“Thank you,” I reply, forcing a grin. “I hope you’re enjoying the food and drinks, but I can’t wait to take my wife away from all of this.”
“Now that you mention it…”
I turn to see Mark, the company manager, approaching with an easy smile.
“On behalf of the company, we’re gifting you two a fully paid honeymoon to Bora Bora! The plane leaves tonight, so you better start packing.”
My stomach drops.
I knew a honeymoon would be necessary, but hearing it out loud makes it feel horrifyingly real.
“How did you know my wife likes Bora Bora?” I ask, forcing a smirk.
Mark laughs. “Lucky guess. The private jet is ready whenever you are.”
He walks away, leaving me with this new problem. Maybe I could let Emma go alone—call it a vacation for her. But that would raise suspicion, and we can’t afford that.
From across the garden, Emma is laughing at something Mia said. But the second she sees me watching her, her smile fades.
I pretend not to notice and beckon her over.
She approaches, a fake smile replacing the real one she had a moment ago.
“What?” she mutters. “This better be good. I was actually having fun for the first time today, and you just ruined it.”
I give her a grim smile. “Well, consider this your lucky day, because there’s bad news. We leave for Bora Bora tonight.”
Emma sighs, looking away. “I suppose that’s part of the deal. I better get a perfect book out of this. Maybe two. You’re definitely getting more out of this than I am.”
“Hey!” I exclaim.
She rolls her eyes. “You know I’m right. Anyway, we can’t say no to this without looking suspicious.”
“You’re right,” I say.
She exhales, a wistful look crossing her face. “I’ve always wanted to go there. Feels like a cruel joke that my first visit will be with you.”
“You’re not the only one suffering,” I counter. “I’d rather stay back and catch up on work. But I’m just as stuck with you as you are with me.”
Emma scoffs. “Oh, don’t act like a tropical vacation is some great hardship.” Then she tilts her head, smirking. “Scrub that scowl off your face. We have people to impress. Big smiles now!”
She gives me a goofy look, then sticks out her tongue. I can’t help but laugh.
“You should be a comedian,” I tease. “You’re funny when you want to be.”
She lifts a brow. “Am I funny? Or are you just so smitten with me that you find everything I do hilarious?”
My heart stutters.
I don’t know how to respond.
This flirty dynamic? It’s new. Unfamiliar. And confusing. My heart shouldn’t be racing, yet here we are.
“I’m only laughing because you’re making a fool of yourself,” I finally say. It’s a lie. But she doesn’t have to know that.
Her smile falters for just a second. But then she recovers, plastering on a grin for the audience around us.
This I can handle—the biting remarks, the sharp edges, the teasing. Not this new, unfamiliar territory.
Then why does my heart crave the unfamiliar?
Mia rushes over, beaming. “Come on, you two! Let’s dance before you leave for your honeymoon!”
Emma’s hand slips into mine.
Our fingers lace together—effortless, natural.
And I hate that it’s not real.