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Hadley’s familiar blue eyes dance between mine.

The flecks of yellow around each iris are as captivating as her high cheekbones and full lips.

Her broad nose and square chin would seem masculine if they'd just been features on their own, but mixed with the rest of her, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

I clear my throat and twist off the wax that sealed this bottle. “The actual bottle, and not just the bourbon inside it, was what made it one of our most expensive. You already know it’s one of our bestsellers.” She stocks it at her speakeasy, so she knows, even wholesale, it’s a pricey bottle.

She smiles knowingly. “I do. It looks pretty behind the bar too.”

So do you .

Around the seal is a small, round ring—it’s what kept the round shape of the stamp.

Griz complained about it always running and didn’t try fast enough for the clean shape.

It was an unnecessary cost, but Griz was adamant about keeping it.

I pop out the deep red wax from inside it and hold up the round metal ring.

“I’ll get you something you want, but for now?—”

“Ace,” she cuts me off, her voice turning quiet as she calls me out. “You realize, this is very romantic of you.” She slides it onto her ring finger, and I hide the fact that I like seeing it there.

“It’s convenient,” I correct, popping the top off the bottle and pouring some into one of the glasses.

And while I know it’s the wrong thing to say by the way her eyebrows pinch for the briefest moment, it’s what will allow all of this to work.

Needing a second to focus and remind myself that this is simply a temporary solution, I take a sip.

I make the mistake of watching her as I do.

I had planned to tell her that, while this wasn’t real, it needs to be presented like it is, but as she stares at her finger and plays with the slightly large metal ring around it, I feel proud to have surprised her with this. A satisfaction that I wasn’t expecting.

Clearing my throat, I take another step back, opening the bottle fully and pouring out three fingers into two glasses.

I turn and grab a square cube from the freezer for her—since she prefers it that way.

“The only way this works is if we have some—” I pause, trying to find the right words as her eyes meet mine.

Dammit, this is going to get messy. And I know it.

In this moment, I know I’ll look back and say that I could have figured something else out, but I want it anyway.

The mess. The fallout. The way she’s looking at me.

“Rules.” She smiles, finishing my sentence.

“Details.” I take another step back and lean against the counter adjacent to where she’s perched. Pushing my hands into my pockets, I watch as she leans back, bracing herself with her arms behind her on the counter.

“About how all of this started and we ended up married?” She widens her legs, and I nod, trying my fucking hardest not to look away from her face.

“I expected you to be far more...difficult about this, and you’re acting like this is as natural as having a drink.”

Putting her glass down next to her, she scoots her hands beneath her thighs. With a thoughtful look, she stares at the floor and says, “You don’t want the truth, Ace. So I’ll give you some time to work out those details before I change my mind and make this... difficult for you.”

She has no idea.

She leans forward, plucking another strawberry from the cheeseboard, and pops it in her mouth. Then her eyes lock on mine, and she wiggles her eyebrows. “When’s the wedding?”

There’s no need to drag this out, so I don’t hesitate when I answer, “This week.”

“So eager, Daddy,” she teases, and like it always does, my breath catches in my throat.

“You can’t—That’s not something you can just call me. It’s gotta stop,” I tell her gruffly.

She tilts her head to the side, sizing up the demand.

But instead of pushing back or prodding with why that’s the case, she says, “Fine.” And then she’s hopping down from the counter and padding on bare feet out of the kitchen, toward the grand staircase as she asks, “Are we doing a town hall quickie, or are we making a big deal about it?”

“Town hall and a bite to eat?” I follow her up the stairs. “I think most people will be surprised if we don’t make a big deal about it, but in an effort to?—”

“I’m fine with that,” she says before I can even finish, heading toward my room at the end of the hall. “No need to embellish the lie.”

I bristle at the idea that this is a lie—it feels more honest than I’ve been in a long time.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Already ball and chaining me?” Turning around, she smirks, but her steps don’t slow as she keeps walking backwards. “Or is it ball and gagging me? How kinky are you, almost-husband?”

“I can make that my thing if it means making sure I get some quiet when you’re here full time.”

“I can think of other things worth gagging on,” she mumbles, chasing it with a barking laugh.

I open my mouth and not a fucking thing comes out. I may not survive this.

“And stop getting your panties all in a bunch,” she says with a wave of her hand, turning back and walking through the threshold of the bedroom. “I’m checking out my new room.”

This is a detail that there’s really no way to work around, especially with Griz living under the same roof.

It’s a stretch that he’s going to believe anything about this situation as it is, but I need him to be satisfied enough to consider the marriage as a mutual agreement and not me exploiting a woman he’s considered family for a long time.

And while the legal documents will be enough for my other reasons, I want his approval too.

Even if he eventually realizes it isn’t the real thing.

She drags her hands along the top of the dressers, stepping slowly toward the other side of the room.

A part of me likes seeing her in my space.

Part of me wants to lean into the lie and believe the illusion of this being real.

At the doorway to the en suite bathroom, she turns her head, looking at me over her shoulder, just as I’m glancing down at her muscular legs.

“Goddesses, are you fucking kidding me?” She gasps. “This might just be the sexiest bathroom I’ve ever seen. I’m never leaving.”

Please don’t , I pathetically respond in my head.

Her fingers tap along the shiny dark marble. “You cannot possibly have a bathroom like this and expect me to contribute to society.” Undoing the top button of her shorts, she keeps her eyes on mine.

I lean against the door frame and sling one hand into my pocket, watching her be very intent with the way she moves her hips left, and then right, slowly coaxing the tight jean shorts from her hips and sliding the material down her thighs.

“I’d like to try it out. Test what I’m getting into and see if it...fits.” Her eyes drop to my pants as her shorts hit the floor. “Or are we just going to ignore that kiss?”

I try my hardest not to seem fazed by her taunt, even as my attention flicks to the bathing suit bottoms tying at the sides of her hips.

I haven’t thought through the intricacies of what being physical with her would do now.

How even one taste could, and likely would, change the trajectory of all of this.

There’s too much at stake to fuck around and find out.

“I’m not ignoring it, Hadley. It’s just irrelevant now.”

Her mouth kicks up in a half smile, but a sarcastic scoff comes out when she says, “Irrelevant? Feels kind of relevant.”

“It’s impossible to ignore how beautiful you are, but you know that.

” I watch her swallow, like that information is news to her.

“So you can keep peeling clothes off, and I’ll appreciate the fuck out of it, but that’s all it’ll be.

A show. Just like what we need to put on in order to make all of this work. ”

She stops moving her fingers that have been teasing along the hem of her T-shirt. “Is that what you think I’m doing here? Putting on a show?” Smiling, she starts to lift her shirt as she says, “I’m simply not feeling very shy around my soon-to-be husband?—”

I leave the room at that, catching only a glimpse of the under curve of her tits. Fuck, just that alone has me wanting to fuck my hand, hard and fast.

“I’ll be in my office when you’re done,” I call out, just as I hear the shower turn on.

Letting out a ragged exhale, I shuffle down the stairs, but as I’m turning on the landing, Griz is standing there with his arms crossed—and a pissed-off look painted across his face.

Great . A hard-on and a disapproving father figure, like I’m a fucking teenager all over again.

I slow on the last stair and smile to myself, looking down first, trying to figure out how to play this. He probably heard just about all of that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was home and just sat quietly listening.

“What the hell are you doing, Atticus?” he asks in a reprimanding tone.

Slightly annoyed at the lack of privacy, I move past him, answering as honestly as I can. “What I have to, Griz.”