Chapter 7: Signed, Sealed... with Conditions

Monday morning came too soon. I barely slept, turning over every possible reason this was a bad idea. But when I walked into the downtown courthouse, Liam was already there leaning against the marble wall like he owned the place, black coffee in one hand, marriage license application in the other.

"You're early," I said.

He handed me the coffee. "You're late."

"I'm exactly on time."

"That's late to me." He grinned, all infuriating confidence, before pushing the clipboard into my hands. "Ready to make this official?"

I froze. "Not without ground rules."

His brow arched. "Ground rules?"

"Yes. One no sex."

He gave a mock pout. "Harsh."

"Two ,if you decide to date someone else while this... arrangement is happening, they can't know. Outsiders can't know."Plus keep your affairs away from the public.

"Fine. But same goes for you."

"Obviously."

"Anything else?" he asked, like we were haggling over a business deal.

I hesitated, then said, "A prenup."

He blinked. "A prenup?"

"Neither of us wants to get stuck in a messy financial disaster when this ends."

Liam smirked, slow and amused. "Oh, honey... I don't want your money. I'm richer than you are."

I narrowed my eyes. "Excuse me? I'm pretty sure I'm richer than you are."

Mommy and Daddy's money doesn't count sweetheart

"Oh, you're adorable. What's your net worth again?"

"Enough to buy this building and the one next to it."

"Cute. I could buy the block."

We were so caught up in bickering that we didn't notice the lawyer waiting in the corner until he cleared his throat. "Shall we... begin?"

I signed first, my pen scratching across the paper. Liam followed with a quick, decisive flourish. Just like that, we were legally... something.

"Congratulations," the clerk said without looking up.

We stepped outside, the late morning sun far too bright for how surreal I felt.

"Now we just have to make it believable," Liam said.

"Believable?"

He gestured across the street. A cluster of photographers stood by the steps, clearly tipped off-either by the board or one of his rivals.

My heart pounded. "Oh no."

"Oh yes." His eyes gleamed. "Smile for the cameras, wife."

Before I could protest, his hand slid to my waist and he kissed me.

It wasn't a stage kiss. It wasn't even the kind of fake but convincing kiss you see in movies. This was warm and sure and just a little too long for an audience. My breath caught, my fingers curling into his lapel without thinking.

When he finally pulled back, I felt dizzy.

He turned to the photographers, smirking. "We're very happy."

I managed a nod, my pulse still racing. The cameras clicked like gunfire.

Once we were in his car, I rounded on him. "That was not part of the deal."

"Sure it was," he said easily. "Rule number one: make them believe. That kiss? They believed."

I stared out the window, willing my heartbeat to slow. "You're impossible."

He didn't answer, but I could feel his gaze lingering, like he knew I wasn't entirely angry.