Café Verona sat on the corner of a street lined with flower shops and overpriced bakeries. The kind of place that made you feel underdressed no matter what you wore.
I found a table by the window and ordered coffee, trying to look like I belonged there. My reflection in the glass looked half-awake, half in disbelief.
He was late. Of course he was.
I was halfway through my cup when I saw him outside, walking like the world existed to make space for him.
Callisto Maxim in a black suit, sleeves slightly rolled, expression unreadable. No tie, because apparently even that was a choice.
He pushed the door open, scanned the café, then spotted me.
I swear even the barista paused for a second.
He didn't need effort to draw attention.
It just happened.
"You're early," he said when he reached me.
"You're late," I shot back. "Is that some CEO power move?"
He sat down across from me, calm as ever. "I was confirming something with my lawyer."
I blinked. "Already?"
"You said you wanted this fast," he said. "I don't waste time."
I stirred my coffee, pretending I wasn't impressed. "Well, congratulations. You're officially my fastest fake fiancé."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "You say that like you've had others."
"Not that I can remember." I leaned forward. "So. Ground rules?"
He nodded. "Let's start with yours."
I pulled a small notebook from my bag.
"Rule number one: no unnecessary touching. Public displays only. Appearances, nothing else."
"Define unnecessary," he said, like he was testing me.
"You know what I mean."
He scribbled something on a pad.
"Fine. My rule, no leaks. No one in our circle finds out this arrangement. Anything about it."
"That's obvious," I said.
"The fewer people know, the better."
His gaze softened slightly. "Good. Then we understand each other."
"Rule number two," I said.
"No personal questions. You stay out of my past, I stay out of yours."
He looked faintly amused. "Including feelings?"
"Especially feelings."
"Noted."
He reached into his jacket and slid a few printed pages across the table.
"What's this?"
"Preliminary terms," he said. "We'll need signatures before applying for the license."
I frowned. "You typed an actual contract?"
"You wanted efficiency."
I scanned through the pages.
It was painfully formal.
Clauses. Conditions. Deadlines.
Even a section on conduct.
"You really planned this overnight?" I asked.
He didn't blink. "I plan everything."
"You're something else, Maxim."
He looked up. "You'll get used to it."
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed. Tessa.
Perfect timing.
I sighed and picked up. "Hey."
"Where are you?" she asked.
"Luca said you've been ignoring the group chat."
"I'm just having coffee."
"With who?"
My eyes flicked up to Callisto.
He was watching, lips pressed together, clearly entertained.
"No one," I said quickly. "Just me."
"Uh-huh. Funny, because Luca swore he saw Callisto heading to Café Verona too."
I coughed. "What? No. That's… purely coincidence."
"Sure, Alex. Blink twice next time I see you if you're lying."
She hung up. I groaned and shoved my phone back into my bag.
Callisto smirked. "Smooth."
"Don't start."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face said enough."
He chuckled softly. "We'll have to be careful. She's already suspicious."
"Tessa's always suspicious," I muttered. "She once thought Luca had a secret girlfriend."
"Did he?"
"No. Just a skincare routine."
That made him laugh.
A quiet, genuine sound.
I looked away too quickly. Attraction wasn't part of this deal.
I focused on the paper in front of me.
"So how long are we doing this?"
"A year," he said. "Long enough for you to secure your inheritance. Long enough for me to finalize my board transition. Then we end it quietly."
I nodded slowly. "A clean divorce. How romantic."
He didn't even flinch. "It's not about romance."
"Good," I said. "We agree on something."
He took a sip of his coffee. "You'll also need to move in."
I almost choked. "Sorry, what?"
"If we want people to believe it, you'll live with me. The media, my board, your grandmother's lawyer, they'll all be watching."
"You're serious."
He nodded. "Always."
I sighed. "You're unbelievable."
"It's called planning."
"It's called being controlling."
"Same thing."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I'll move in. But I'm bringing my own coffee machine."
He tilted his head, amused. "You think I don't have one?"
"You probably have one that costs more than my rent. I don't trust it."
He smirked. "Then bring yours."
"I will."
He studied me for a moment, his expression softer now. "No second thoughts?"
I hesitated. "Second thoughts don't change anything. This isn't love. It's strategy."
Something flickered in his eyes, but it wasn't judgment. It looked like understanding.
He stood, buttoning his jacket. "I'll have my assistant send the forms tonight. You'll move in before the weekend."
"Bossy," I muttered.
"Efficient," he corrected.
"You keep saying that word like it's a personality trait."
"Maybe it is."
He started walking toward the exit, then stopped and glanced back. "Alex."
"What?"
"Welcome to married life."
I groaned. "Buy me a croissant next time. That's what husbands do."
He laughed quietly. "Noted."
When he left, I sat back and let out a long breath.
Through the café window, I could see him outside, already on the phone, probably handling five crises at once. He didn't look back. He didn't have to.
Somewhere between that message, his calm voice, and my own stubbornness, I had just signed up for something I couldn't undo.
Maybe it was a deal. Maybe it was a disaster.
Either way, it had already begun.