Chapter 5 The Boardwalk
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The morning light filtered through the massive bay windows, painting golden stripes across the hardwood floor of Jasper’s bedroom.
Layla stirred first, the events of the night before replaying in her head like a forbidden dream. The kiss. The heat. The way Jasper had looked at her — like for a moment, she wasn’t a stranger.
She sat up and caught sight of him on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes. He hadn't changed position once, and even now, he looked like he hadn’t slept at all.
She got up silently and stepped into the ensuite bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, trying to cool the lingering burn of his touch.
It was supposed to be fake.
So why did it feel so real?
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Downstairs, Gregory was already seated in the sunroom, sipping black coffee and reading the newspaper.
Layla forced a smile. “Good morning.”
He didn’t look up. “You kids certainly were... passionate last night.”
She nearly choked on her words. “Oh... uh, yes. We’re... very in love.”
His eyes peeked over the rim of his glasses. “I wasn’t born yesterday, dear. But you’re doing a convincing job.”
Layla’s heart stuttered. Was he testing her?
Just then, Jasper entered, saving her with his cool confidence and pressed shirt. “Morning, Grandpa.”
Gregory folded his paper. “Take your wife out today. Show her off.”
“What?”
“Go to the boardwalk. Let the press see you two together. I’m not the only one who needs convincing.”
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An hour later, Layla was in Jasper’s sleek black convertible, sunglasses shielding her expression as the wind tangled through her hair.
“I didn’t know you had a grandfather that enjoyed surveillance,” she muttered.
Jasper smirked. “He’s old-school. He believes in appearances. In... legacy.”
Layla turned to him. “And what do you believe in?”
He didn’t answer. Just pressed down on the accelerator.
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The boardwalk was already buzzing with life when they arrived — couples walking hand in hand, children laughing, seagulls overhead. The salty breeze carried the scent of cotton candy and ocean air.
Cameras flashed the moment they stepped out of the car.
“Mr. Tate! Is this your wife?”
“Is the heir on the way?”
Layla flushed as Jasper slid a protective arm around her waist and whispered in her ear, “Just smile and pretend you’re happy.”
She leaned into him, fake-laughing in that perfect, rehearsed way. “I am happy,” she whispered back. “With the billionaire I met three days ago.”
He chuckled under his breath. “You’re getting good at this.”
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They walked down the boardwalk, fingers linked, the perfect picture of young love. Layla tried to focus on the sea, the distant sound of a carousel, anything but how right his hand felt in hers.
They stopped for ice cream — his choice, black cherry; hers, vanilla with caramel drizzle — and sat on a bench overlooking the ocean.
For a moment, the world felt normal.
No contracts. No heirs. Just... them.
Until Layla broke the silence. “Do you think your grandfather suspects anything?”
Jasper stared straight ahead. “He always suspects something. That’s his gift — and his curse.”
Layla studied him. “You sound like you care what he thinks.”
He turned to her, his voice low. “I care about getting this done. I need that company, Layla. I need to prove I’m not just a name with a bank account.”
She nodded, then asked softly, “And after the heir is born? What happens to us?”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“I guess... we go back to our own lives.”
Something twisted in her chest. “Right.”
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Later that afternoon, as they walked back toward the car, a little girl ran into Layla by accident and almost fell.
Before she could hit the ground, Jasper caught her.
Strong. Protective.
The girl looked up with wide eyes. “You’re Jasper Tate! My mom says you're a prince.”
Jasper crouched beside her, smiling gently. “Tell your mom I’m more of a dragon.”
Layla watched the scene with a strange ache in her heart.
He looked... human. Kind.
Real.
And for the first time, she wondered if pretending to love him would be harder than actually falling for him.
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That night, after Gregory had left, Jasper stood in the hallway outside Layla’s bedroom door.
He hesitated, hand raised to knock.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he turned away, heading toward his study with a scowl and a storm in his chest.
Inside her room, Layla sat by the window, watching the stars.
And wondering if there was any way this story could end without someone getting hurt.
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