Chapter 1 #2
A frustrated Anya I can handle.
A mischievous one? No thanks. "What if Sebastian wasn't just randomly violent? What if he was protecting someone?"
Mad looks up sharply, probably wondering if Anya has finally lost her mind. "What?"
"The social media response is mixed. Half think you're a violent meathead—"
"Wow. Straight to the point. Thanks, Anya."
"—but half think there's more to the story, especially since you don't have a history of that kind of violence." Anya taps her screen. "People noticed Maddison in the background of these photos. She looks horrified, a hand to her mouth."
Mad sighs. "I was."
"But what if your horror wasn't about Sebastian's actions, but about what prompted them?" Anya leans forward. The gleam in her eyes tells me she has formed a plan, and I most likely won't like it.
"What if this wasn't random aggression, but a man defending the woman he loves?"
The silence stretches between us, and she might as well have spoken a different language. I didn't understand a word. What is she trying to say?
"The woman he ... what … ?” Mad's voice comes out strangled. She looks as confused as I am.
"We need a narrative that explains his behavior and humanizes him." Anya's mind is clearly racing.
She paces the length of the room, almost jumping in excitement. "A love story. The brooding hockey player with a heart of gold and the PR specialist who's been secretly dating him for months."
"No," Mad and I say in unison, apparently arriving at the same conclusion. I've worked with Anya for so long that I know she can magically make people think something is there when it’s not.
"Not just dating or in a relationship. You're getting married." Anya props a hand on her hip, looking every bit triumphant. "A whirlwind romance exposed by this incident. Sebastian was defending his girlfriend's honor. It's romantic, not violent. No man will ever let insults fly."
Mad's cheeks turn an unhealthy shade. Her lips press tightly together and an eyebrow curls into a deepening scowl. Is the thought of marrying me really that disgusting? Because, ouch! Now my ego is thoroughly bruised. A raspy hum begins deep in her throat. "M-married to Clay?"
Wow. Double ouch.
"Temporarily," Anya clarifies. "Six months, maybe a year. Long enough to rehabilitate Sebastian's image and secure those endorsements."
"This is insane," Mad whispers. "Why would I even want to marry him?"
"Damn, Mad. I have feelings too, you know, and I'm right here."
I stare at the photos on the tablet. Me, looking like a rage monster. Mad behind me, eyes wide with fear. And all this because I couldn't walk away from Kyle fucking Ericsson.
But also…
Married to Maddison? The woman who's been haunting my dreams and the sole reason for hundreds of cold showers these past few years?
Like, we'd have to live together and kiss and…
Goddamn. Maybe Anya really is a genius. I’m already thinking of signing a big, fat bonus for her.
"I'll do it," I say.
Mad's head snaps up. "What?"
"If it fixes this, I'll do it."
"Don't I get a say? What do I get in return?"
Anya doesn't even bat an eye. "One hundred thousand dollars for every month you stay married to him."
At this, Mad stops. Fucking hell. Anya, you sly fox.
We both know Mad is trying to save up to buy her very own apartment, and she's been pinching every penny. So much so that Anya has resorted to buying meals for two after she found out Mad was skipping meals.
"One hundred thousand," Mad says, casting me a glare.
It's at this moment when I realize we have her. "One year equals 1.2 million, baby. If I'm feeling generous, I might throw in a sports car to go with your brand new crib."
"I don't like sports cars."
"Nope. You like your Kia sedan that's one horn away from breaking apart."
Mad turns to Anya. "I might end up murdering him."
Anya shrugs and walks away, her shoulders shaking. She really did it. God bless you, Anya. I will never again question your ways.
"You may kiss the bride."
The officiant's words snap me back to the present. To Mad standing before me, lips parted slightly, eyes wide with something I have no time to decipher. The entire rooftop waits, watching us with bated breath. I barely notice them. In fact, I barely notice anything except for her.
I cup her face between my palms, feeling her pulse jump beneath my fingers, her breath hitching against my wrists.
God, she is so fucking beautiful. The soft glow of string lights catches in her hair, making her look almost ethereal.
I lean down, giving her time to prepare, to remember we have an audience.
But honestly, everyone can disappear for all I care.
The contract, the money, Kyle's threats—all of it fades away.
The only thing that matters is Mad … and the fact that I'm about to kiss her. Not a member of my PR team. My wife.
Our lips meet gently at first. A performance for the cameras. For my teammates watching from their tables. For the story we're selling to everyone who doubts us. Just enough pressure to be convincing.
Then she makes this tiny sound in the back of her throat—half sigh, half whimper—and I lose it, my self-control snapping in half like a composite stick under too much pressure.
My arm slides around her waist, pulling her against me until there's nothing between us. Her hands grip my lapels, fingers digging into the fabric as the kiss deepens. Her body melts into mine, and in turn, it melts my brain into soup.
This isn't pretend. Not for me. Not for her either, from the way she's kissing me back, like she's forgotten about our deal, about the money, about everything except us.
"Save it for later! Some of us are single!" Jonesy yells from the team table, followed by whistles and laughter that ripple through our small gathering. I can hear my teammates banging on the tables like we're at center ice.
We break apart slowly, reluctantly. Mad blinks up at me, dazed, lips swollen and slightly parted. A flush spreads across her cheeks, down her neck. I've never seen anything more beautiful than Mad in this moment, breathless from my kiss, wearing my ring, carrying my name.
We turn to face our guests, her hand finding mine again, but no trembling this time. The photographer captures our first moments as husband and wife, grinning behind his camera.
"Day one starts today," I say, leading her into the reception.
A few seconds of being married, and I just lied to my wife. Because there's no way I'm letting her go after the way she kissed me back.
Maddison is mine … until the day I die.