Meeting is done deal.

After a long, suffocating silence, we finally reached the office building. As I stepped out of the car, I was startled when Ethan suddenly pulled me close, his hand gripping my waist firmly. He beamed at me with a smile that looked perfect but felt chilling.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he gritted out near my ear, his voice a low vibration of malice. “I need my clients to believe we are in love. I want them to think this marriage was a choice, not a convenience. So, just act like you love me.”

I swallowed hard and nodded, forcing a bright, plastic smile onto my lips as we walked into the building.

A chorus of congratulations followed us through the lobby. I felt the weight of the gazes in the room—some men looked at me with a hunger that made me shudder, and I felt Ethan’s grip on my waist tighten instinctively whenever someone lingered too long. I also caught the daggers being thrown my way by the "fan club" of Ethan’s female employees. I gave them a cold shoulder; I knew how attractive my husband was. To me, he was just a man made cold by circumstance, a diamond buried in ice.

We entered the conference hall, and the room fell silent as everyone stood up out of respect—or perhaps fear—of my husband. Acknowledging them with a curt nod, Ethan led me toward an elderly man at the center of the table.

“Mr. Parker,” Ethan said, shaking his hand firmly. “Meet my wife, Olivia Ethan King.”

My heart swelled for a heartbeat at the sound of our names joined together. Even if it was just for the sake of the deal, hearing him claim me as a "King" felt like a victory.

“I see you were quite desperate for this deal, marrying this lovely young lady so suddenly,” Mr. Parker commented with a knowing look.

Ethan let out a practiced chuckle. “Actually, it was the other way around,” he said, tightening his hold on my waist as he smiled at Parker. “I suppose I was just waiting for the right excuse to finally get a ‘yes’ from my love.”

The way he said the word "love" sent a jolt through my stomach. It sounded exactly the way he used to say it years ago—tender, deep, and real. My heart fluttered, betraying me despite the fact that I knew it was all a performance.

Ethan played the part of the doting husband perfectly, pulling out my chair and gently pushing it back in once I was seated. Dylan entered the hall shortly after, catching my eye and raising a teasing eyebrow at the display of affection. I couldn't help but smile back. Soon, the presentation began. I spent the next hour looking around the room, trying to follow the technical slides, though most of the information flew right over my head.

**

By the time the meeting concluded, I was exhausted. Between the morning’s wedding fiasco, an empty stomach, and the dry atmosphere of the boardroom, I was ready to collapse.

“I am sorry, Mrs. King, for dragging you into an urgent meeting on your big day,” Mr. Parker said, offering a sincere apology as he gathered his things. “You must have had a honeymoon planned, yet here I am, keeping you and your husband at the office.”

I smiled at him warmly. “It’s not a problem at all, Mr. Parker. I know how much this deal means to my husband.” I turned to Ethan and, emboldened by the role we were playing, interlaced my fingers with his.

“Now I can truly say you two are deeply in love,” Parker remarked slyly as he bid us adieu.

The moment the door closed behind him, the mask fell. Ethan roughly pulled his hand away from mine and walked toward his assistant to review the signed documents, leaving me standing there cold.

“So, how was your first afternoon as a married woman?” Dylan asked, stepping up to me.

I released a long, frustrated breath and recounted everything that had happened. Dylan listened, shaking his head in disappointment.

“You’re right; Ethan is doing all of this to keep you at a distance. He’s trying to push you away just like he does everyone else,” Dylan said, checking to ensure we weren't being overheard. “If he can say such biting words to me, his best friend, then of course he’ll try to hurt you. Keep your head up, Olivia. I’m certain the old Ethan is still in there somewhere.”

“I hope so,” I shrugged, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. “I just don't want him to do something that breaks my heart beyond repair.”

“Just trust him,” Dylan said, patting my hand gently. “I believe that somewhere deep down, he knows you are his true love. He could never truly destroy you.”

“If your lovey-dovey conversation is finished, can I take my wife home now?” Ethan’s voice cut through the air, dripping with sarcasm. I rolled my eyes as he approached. “Or does my wifey want to end this relationship this very moment? The deal is final, after all.”

I refused to let him win. I stepped forward and interlaced my arm around his bicep, smiling brightly. “Your wife wants to go home with her husband and have a very romantic first night.”

Dylan smiled at my defiance as he walked out, but Ethan immediately shrugged my arm off—this time, with enough force to make me stumble. He turned on his heel and marched out of the hall.

“You go home. I have work to do,” he ordered without looking back.

“What? Work? On our wedding night?” I pouted, trailing after him.

He stopped and turned, glaring at me with eyes like flint. “I am telling you again: this marriage is for a deal,” he said mercilessly. “You are free to walk out of it at any time.”

He turned away again. My chest tightened, but I refused to let him see me cry. What did this jerk think of himself? I had survived worse than his cold words. I rubbed my eyes, cleared any hint of tears, and hurried after him.

“My King, will you at least tell me how I am supposed to get home?” I asked, my voice laced with heavy sarcasm.

“Yes, my Queen. Your carriage—with your own royal chauffeur—is waiting for you outside the building,” he snapped back in an equally sarcastic tone. “Anything else?”

“When will you be back?”

“Can’t say,” he replied, disappearing into his private office and immediately burying himself in paperwork.

I huffed in frustration before turning and leaving. I made my way out of the building and into the car, which took me straight to his apartment. I was grateful that he had at least given me the entry codes earlier.