Zayden looked completely at ease, one hand on the counter, the other holding a glass of water.
He glanced up quickly.
"You have drool on your lips," he teased.
Ava touched the side of her face. There was nothing there, but she still felt a little embarrassed.
She lowered her hand and glared at him.
"You are ridiculous," she shot at him.
"You should have seen your face," he said and chuckled softly.
Ava crossed her arms, holding herself still.
"It seems you enjoy embarrassing people, huh?"
He tilted his head, watching her, and said, "Only when they make it easy."
She rolled her eyes, trying to hide her irritation. "I just came for tea," she said.
He nodded toward the counter.
"It's right there."
She stepped closer. As she reached for the kettle, her arm brushed his side.
It was brief. Completely accidental.
Yet, it sent a shiver down her spine. Her fingers gripped the kettle tightly.
Zayden noticed. "Careful," he teased.
She stepped back, her breath uneven. "You are too close."
He leaned in just enough to make her pulse quicken. "This is my kitchen, Ms. Morre," he said.
Her throat felt dry. "Then maybe wear a shirt."
He smirked. "Maybe later."
She avoided looking at him. She poured the water, added the tea, and focused on the rising steam. When she finished, she headed for the stairs.
"Goodnight, Mr. Zayden," she said without turning back.
"Goodnight, Ms. Morre."
She hurried up and only stopped after closing her bedroom door behind her.
Before long, it was morning. Ava barely got any rest.
She got up early, showered, and dressed in a simple blouse and pants, tying her hair back.
A knock sounded at her door. She walked toward it and unlocked it. Zayden stood outside in a perfectly fitted suit.
"We are going to the office together," he said.
Ava murmured to herself, This man lacks basic manners!
"Well, good morning to you too," she said with sarcasm.
Zayden cleared his throat, and said, "Get down in two minutes, I hate being late."
"I usually go alone," she whined.
"Not today."
She hesitated. "Why?"
"Because I said so," he said firmly.
Ava cussed in her heart, He was nice last night, and a jerk today. Goodness!
She studied his face, searching for explanation, but found none.
"Get your bag. We're leaving," he said, and walked down the stairs.
She rolled her eyes out of annoyance. She picked up a black bag, closed the door behind her, and followed him.
The drive was quiet.
Ava felt uneasy about going with him; she didn't want unnecessary drama.
At the building, people stared and whispered seeing them walk together. Zayden seemed undisturbed, but Ava stayed close, feeling nervous.
At the reception desk, a familiar figure waited. Mr. Thompson Ojeagha.
A sudden rush hit her chest.
Before she could react, Zayden took her hand, and their fingers entwined.
Ava took a deep breath.
She turned to him in surprise, but he held her hand tightly. There was no way to pull away.
Play along, she told herself.
Mr. Thompson noticed immediately. His eyes dropped to their joined hands, then lifted slowly, a small smile on his face.
"Mr. Zayden, I see I was mistaken," he said
Zayden smiled faintly. "About what, Mr. Thompson?"
"I assumed your relationship with Ms. Morre was strictly professional,"
Zayden glanced briefly at Ava, then back at Mr. Thompson.
"I keep my personal life private,"
"Clearly," Mr. Thompson said, and laughed softly.
Zayden held her hand a bit tighter. "We're married," he said.
The lobby went quiet. Ava felt the word hit her chest.
Married.
Mr. Thompson stared in disbelief. "Married?"
"Legally," Zayden answered calmly.
Ava gently pulled her hand free. "Excuse me. I need to get to my office." She said.
She walked away before her legs could betray her.
Zayden nodded to Mr. Thompson. "Please follow me to my office," Zayden said politely.
Mr. Thompson nodded with a small smile. They walked side by side, their footsteps echoing loudly.
As Zayden walked, Mr. Thompson watched him with curiosity.
When they reached the office, Zayden opened the door and stepped inside first, holding it open for Mr. Thompson.
"Please sit," Zayden said, pointing to the chairs by his desk. Mr. Thompson sat down, still watching him closely.
Inside the office, the air felt tense.
Mr. Thompson eyed him sharply. "I hope this marriage isn't just a trick to secure my collaboration," he said.
Zayden opened a drawer and pulled out a folder, placing it on the desk. Inside was a marriage certificate. Good thing I have my connections to make this believable, he thought.
Mr. Thompson shifted forward, studying it. "You both have been married for over a year?" he asked.
Zayden nodded and leaned back.
Mr. Thompson has no idea how carefully this has been arranged.
Mr. Thompson exhaled. "Well, that clears my doubts."
They signed the contract and shook hands.
As Mr. Thompson left, Zayden's personal assistant entered the office.
"Sir, the Manhattan social event is tonight," she said.
Zayden frowned. "Tonight?"
"Yes. Attendance is expected," she said, and excused herself.
Zayden pressed the call button on his desk, "Ms. Morre? Come in now."
Ava entered shortly.
"You called?"
"We have a public event tonight. You'll attend it with me," he said.
Her eyes widened. "Tonight?"
"Yes. You're my wife, remember?"
Her heart dropped.
"What?"
"You heard me," he said.
She paused, feeling uneasy. A public event meant stares, questions and judgments.
"I don't think this is wise," she said carefully, as if not to offend him.
His eyes met hers. "The contract says otherwise." He slid the document toward her.
"Party B must attend social functions with Party A, upon request."
"I don't have anything suitable to wear," she said.
He stood up, and said, "That's why the boutique exists."
Ava stared at him, confused.
"I don't like to be kept waiting. Follow me."
She nodded and followed him.
The boutique felt too much.
Ava stared at the price tags, stunned. Even if she saved her salary for ten years, she could never afford any of them.
Zayden chose a red dress.
When she stepped out, the room went quiet. The dress suited her perfectly.
Zayden's gaze lingered for a moment.
Then he said, "This will do."
He paid for the dress, and they left the boutique.
The venue was lively when they arrived. Men in suits and women in elegant gowns moved about with calm smiles. It was the kind of event where the importance showed in the people present, not in its name.
Ava felt it as soon as she stepped inside. She lifted her chin, her hand tightening on Zayden's arm as he led her forward.
People looked at them, some curious, others judging.
Zayden leaned closer and said softly, "Relax. Walk with me,"
"I am relaxed," she muttered.
He gave a small smile, unconvinced.
They moved further inside, as people greeted Zayden with handshakes and nods.
Ava felt out of place, like she didn't belong there.
Then she saw him.
Lucas Grante.
Of course he was there. Lucas was also a wealthy man in Manhattan. Not as rich as Zayden, but rich enough to attend events like this.
He stood with a small group near the center, a drink in his hand. He looked confident, dressed in expensive clothes. He looked up, and their eyes met.
Shock crossed his face, followed by disbelief, then hurt before he hid it. Ava felt a familiar ache in her chest.
Zayden's eyes followed her gaze, yet he didn't ask any questions.
Instead, he reached for her hand and linked their fingers together. It was clear and public.
She eased her shoulders, forcing herself to relax.
Lucas saw the gesture. He held his wine glass more firmly.
Zayden took a glass from a server and lifted it slightly.
"Before the night goes on, there is something I need to clarify," Zayden began.
Conversations faded slowly, and heads turned. The entire room suddenly became quiet.
Ava's stomach turned.
She looked up at him, confused, but he didn't look at her. His eyes stayed on the room.
"I value my privacy, which is why I have never spoken about this in public. But misunderstandings are inconvenient," he said.
Zayden's hand pressed against hers.
"Allow me introduce my wife, Ava," he added finally, dropping the bombshell.
Silence fell over the room, then quiet whispers.
Heat rushed to Ava's face. Her head spun.
Wife?
The word echoed in her mind, unreal and heavy.