"I never planned on marrying anyone. But if I do, I want it to last. So I'd rather we stay married long-term. If possible..." his eyes held mine steadily, "...forever."
The room went silent. My heart skipped, then stumbled, then sprinted.
Forever?
I blinked at him. "So… you're saying we'll stay married forever?" My voice came out stiff.
He frowned, clearly annoyed at my choice of words. "That's not what I said." A pause, then a shrug. "I just don't intend to settle down seriously. If one day you want to back out, fine. Just give me two months' notice."
I pressed my lips together. "Okay… Fine. But about the clause 'no physical or emotional attachment' is that really necessary? I'm not about to throw myself at you." I let out a short, dry laugh.
Leo's jaw tightened, and his ears turned faintly red. "Necessary or not, it stays. I'd rather spell it out than risk another… incident." He stood abruptly, pacing across Juno's living room.
God. Can he not sit still for once?
I rose too, keeping a careful distance. "Mr. Rhys, I—"
"Leo," he cut in, spinning around to face me. His eyes pinned mine like a blade. "Get used to it."
I froze. "…Right. Leo. I've read the contract, it's fine. Let's just sign it already."
He held my gaze for a moment longer, then finally nodded. "Good."
I scribbled my name at the bottom, then glanced at him again. My heart wouldn't calm down, not because of feelings, but because of the gnawing fear. Sooner or later, he'd find out there had never been a baby in my stomach. What then?
Leo's voice cut through my thoughts. "Two weeks."
I stiffened. "What?"
"The wedding. I've already booked the venue. Documents too, you'll come with me." He spoke as if it were a meeting he was scheduling, not a marriage.
"Oh. Right." I forced a nod.
"Are you free tomorrow?" he asked, already pushing himself off the couch. "We'll go for fittings. Rings, too."
I swallowed. "Sure."
"Good." He moved toward the door without looking back. "See you tomorrow."
When the door clicked shut, I finally let out the breath I'd been holding. Relief rushed in, but it tangled with dread.
~~~~~
"Hi."
I blinked at the unfamiliar man standing at Juno's door.
"Uh… hi? Sorry, I feel like I've seen you before but can't place it—"
He chuckled. "Not surprising. We only met once, at your interview. Emily Hart, right?"
Shit. Interview. Right. But who the hell is he again?
He caught my blank look and quickly offered his hand. "Sebastian. Just call me Seb."
I shook it, forcing a polite smile. "Emily. Sorry, I'm hopeless with names."
"It's fine." His grin widened. "Ready to go?"
I nodded, then noticed the black SUV parked neatly in front of the building.
"Leo had something come up," Sebastian explained, following my gaze. "He asked me to accompany you today."
Again, I nodded.
"Wow, not a talker, huh?" he teased.
I let out a short laugh. "Not really. Just… didn't expect this. I don't mind going alone, honestly."
"Nope." He hooked my wrist lightly and tugged me toward the car. "Picking dresses and rings alone? Boring. Besides…" His smile turned playful. "Don't you need a groom?"
I rolled my eyes, pretending to groan. "Fine. But you're getting ice cream afterward."
Sebastian burst out laughing.
One thing was clear on the ride: Sebastian was the complete opposite of Leonardo the ice prince. Where Leo spoke in clipped sentences, Seb filled the silence with chatter. By the time we pulled up to the boutique twenty minutes later, I already knew his favorite band, his least favorite food, and the fact that he couldn't drive stick to save his life.
"Alright, we're here." He flashed me a grin as he parked. "Remember, I'm your groom."
I laughed awkwardly, tugging my coat tighter as we stepped out.
The boutique was a European-style building, draped with ivy and fresh greenery. The air smelled faintly of roses when we stepped inside.
A tall man with warm brown hair and striking green eyes greeted us with a professional smile. "Hello, Ms. Emily. I'm Matthew Morgan. Welcome to Maison Blanche. I'll be assisting you in choosing a dress today."
Then his gaze shifted. "...and this must be your groom? Mr. Rhys, isn't it?"
Sebastian didn't miss a beat. He slid an arm casually behind my back, all charm. "Yeah, Emily's fiancé. Nice to meet you, Matthew."
I shot him a sideways glare. Seriously? Did he really have to sell it that hard?
Matthew only nodded, polite but with something flickering in his eyes as he turned away to guide us inside.
"…Really?" I muttered under my breath as we followed him.
Sebastian just patted my head lightly, lips curving into a grin.
The next hour was pure torture or, at least, Sebastian made sure it was. Every time I tried on a gown, he insisted I try another. "One more won't hurt," he kept saying, lounging in the plush chair like he owned the place.
I twirled in front of the mirror for what felt like the fifth time, the fabric pooling around me. "Seb, be honest. This looks fine. But the second one was better, right?"
He tilted his head, considering, then nodded. "Yeah. The second one still wins."
"Finally," I muttered, relief flooding me. "Okay, we're done. No more. If I put on another dress, I'll pass out."
As the attendant helped with the gown, I caught Sebastian watching Matthew again. For a moment, his playful grin slipped. Then he looked back at me, forcing a smile.
"You sure you're okay with this one?" he asked, voice softer than before.
I nodded quickly. "Yeah. Definitely."
When I glanced at Matthew, he was already looking at us. The second our eyes met, he flinched, smiling awkwardly before ducking away to arrange the paperwork.
Strange.
I didn't have time to dwell on it as I slipped back into the fitting room. But the air between the two men had shifted, even if neither of them said a word.
By the time we left the boutique, the sky had already turned a deep shade of gray. We spent another thirty minutes at a jewelry store, but honestly? I couldn't care less about rings. None of this was real anyway.
Sebastian, on the other hand, had way too much fun trying them on. "This one makes my fingers look elegant, don't you think?" he teased, wiggling his hand in front of me.
I rolled my eyes. "Seb, it's not your wedding. Just pick one and let's go."
"Correction. Today, I'm the groom. You heard Matthew," he said with a mischievous grin.
I forced a chuckle, but my chest tightened. The memory of Matthew's flustered smile lingered in my head. Something about the way Sebastian looked at him… It wasn't nothing.
The ride back was quiet. Too quiet compared to the nonstop chatter earlier. Sebastian kept his eyes on the road, lips pressed in a thin line.
"Uh, Seb? Is everything okay? You've been quiet since the boutique." I tried to keep my tone light. "Are you tired? I told you, I could've gone alone—"
He cut me off with a quick shake of his head. "Nope. Not tired. And I wanted to come. So stop saying that."
But his smile was faint, fragile.
I hesitated, then decided to test the waters. "Alright… but can I ask something? Do you… know Matthew?"
"Who?" His voice came too fast, too sharp.
"Matthew. The one who helped us with the fitting. I think he's the owner of Maison Blanche."
Screech!
The SUV jerked violently as Sebastian slammed on the brakes. My body lurched forward, seatbelt locking tight across my chest.
"Sebastian?!" My heart raced as I gripped the dashboard. "What the hell…are you okay?"
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. For once, the usual warmth in his eyes was gone replaced by pure panic.
"I think…" His voice cracked, almost a whisper. "I messed up."