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I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. I was going to do this. I was going to marry my billionaire ex-boss. And I was going to pretend to be in love with him. No big deal.

As I walked beneath large potted trees with white lights strung between them, I felt as if I’d been transported to the French countryside. It was magical and intimate, striking the perfect balance of relaxed elegance.

Finally, my eyes landed on Graham. He stood beneath an arch of sunflowers and roses. And even though I’d seen him minutes ago, I’d been so distracted by our conversation that I hadn’t really gotten the chance to take him in. I did so now, grateful that it was expected that the bride would drink in her groom. And what a sight he was.

Graham wore a gorgeous bespoke three-piece black suit that brought out the green in his eyes. It showcased his shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful thighs. He looked… I swallowed hard. He looked like my husband.

Like my husband?

He gave me a subtle nod, and I told myself to move. To act natural.

The fact that he needed a wife to not only improve his reputation but secure more shares somehow made me feel better about the whole thing. Like I was actually contributing something of value to the arrangement and not just take-take-taking like my family.

And while I could’ve just taken his revised offer of the money for the restoration, I couldn’t accept it in good conscience. Not when I knew he felt just as strongly about saving his family’s company as I did the château. Not once I realized just how much was at stake.

Freaking Moretti.

He was an ass who gave me the creeps. Thankfully, I’d rarely interacted with him when I’d worked at the Huxley Grand—mostly at industry events. But the way his eyes had lingered on me had always made me uncomfortable. He was vicious and conniving, and if I could help Graham prevent a takeover, I was in.

I only wished Graham had told me sooner. But the fact that he’d been willing to call off the wedding showed me how honorable he was. How committed he was to doing the right thing, even at great cost to himself.

Graham and I both had powerful reasons for wanting this marriage. And while it might not be conventional, I had faith in us. In what we could accomplish together.

That thought propelled me to take the first step toward him. Then another. It just all seemed so surreal. A dream mixed with some weird alternate reality.

I tried to tell myself that the only reason he felt like my husband was because we were going through this charade of a wedding. It was my emotions from the day and the fact that I was dressed as a bride. But a deeper, knowing sense of myself recognized him as the man I was supposed to spend my life with.

Graham watched me as I proceeded up the aisle, and I ignored everyone else but him. For a moment, we were locked in time.

It didn’t matter that I tried to ignore that feeling. Thatknowing. Tried to push it away. That niggling sense of rightness just kept at it. Kept telling me that he was it for me. He was my person.

Oh shit.I shoved that thought into a box, pushed it to the deep recesses of my mind.

“You look…” He shook his head, stepping closer. “Tu es absolument magnifique.”

Magnificent. Stunning.Those were the words he’d used to describe me.

I smiled and dipped my head to smell my bouquet, pleased by the compliment, even if it was all part of the act. “Merci.”

Oh god. This was it. We were really going to do this.

I handed off my bouquet to Jo, and I was so grateful she was here. Graham took my hands in his, and I tried to focus on the feel of his skin against mine. Tried to calm my breath and school my smile into something natural.

The officiant spoke about love and commitment, but I barely heard him over the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears. Graham gave my hands a squeeze, centering me. Bringing me back to the present. Reminding me that we were in this together. We were partners.

“And now for the vows. Who has the rings?” the officiant asked.

Right. The ring. I hadn’t even considered the fact that I’d be wearing a wedding ring. I hadn’t even worn an engagement ring since it had all happened so fast and we were trying to keep it a secret.

Pierce stepped forward and removed a box from his jacket pocket.

“Graham,” the officiant said.

We’d agreed to write our own vows and to keep them short and sweet. Neither of us wanted to promise a lifetime of love, when we both knew that wasn’t what this was.

Graham took the ring from Pierce, and it was the first time I’d seen it. As he slid the ring on my finger, I couldn’t help but gasp. It was a gorgeous diamond set on a thin gold band. It was simple and elegant, and exactly what I would’ve picked for myself.

I tried not to gawk at the ring, but it was stunning. It had to be vintage. I resisted the urge to screw my eyes shut. I sincerely hoped it wasn’t a family heirloom.