CHAPTER FIVE: A KISS FOR THE CAMERAS

 

Ryan was still standing close enough for me to notice the faint scent of his cologne.

The photographer waited with his camera raised, while the guests watched us with eager smiles. Apparently, everyone expected the newly married couple to seal their vows with a kiss.

Great. Just great.

I had barely made it through the ceremony without falling apart, and now I was expected to kiss a man who had married me for convenience.

Ryan's gaze met mine.

“We only need to give him a convincing picture,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

I wanted to ask whether he ever got tired of treating everything like a business transaction. But the photographer was still waiting, and I could practically feel the guests wondering why we hadn't kissed yet.

Our marriage depended on looking real. I'd known that when I signed the contract.

So I swallowed my discomfort and gave Ryan a small nod.

“Fine. Just make it quick.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but it disappeared before I could figure out what it meant.

He leaned toward me.

I held my breath as his lips touched mine.

The kiss was brief. Careful. Nothing like the passionate kisses I'd seen in movies or the ones I'd once imagined sharing with someone who actually loved me.

Ryan's hand rested lightly against my waist, his touch just convincing enough for the cameras.

A flash went off.

Then another.

“Beautiful!” the photographer announced. “One more, please.”

Absolutely not.

I smiled at the photographer, hoping it looked more natural than it felt. “I think you've got it.”

A few guests laughed, and someone near the front called out that we made a lovely couple.

Ryan gave them the charming smile I'd seen him wear all afternoon. He looked every inch the perfect husband, and I hated how easily he pulled it off.

As soon as the photographer lowered his camera, I stepped away.

Ryan adjusted his jacket.

“Thank you for cooperating,” he said.

I stared at him. “You're welcome. Anything else on today's schedule?”

His expression barely changed. “Not that I know of.”

Of course not.

We'd just shared our first kiss as husband and wife, and he spoke as if we'd finished signing a document.

I turned away before he could see how much that bothered me.

It shouldn't have mattered. I knew what this marriage was. I knew what it wasn't.

Still, a tiny, foolish part of me had expected the moment to feel different.

Apparently, I needed to stop expecting things.

***

The reception was worse than the ceremony.

At least during the vows, I hadn't needed to talk to anyone.

Now, I was introduced to one guest after another as Mrs. Morgan. People shook my hand, complimented my dress, and asked questions that sounded friendly until I noticed the way their eyes moved over me.

Some looked genuinely pleased for us.

Others looked confused.

I couldn't blame them. If I'd been invited to a wedding where a billionaire heir suddenly married a woman nobody had heard of, I'd have questions too.

A woman wearing an expensive diamond necklace smiled at me.

“Nicole, darling, how wonderful. Tell me, what do you do?”

“I used to work as a bartender.”

Her smile paused.

“Oh.”

That single word told me everything.

She recovered quickly, asking whether I planned to continue working now that I was married. I told her I hadn't decided, then excused myself before she could turn the conversation into an interrogation.

Ryan, meanwhile, seemed perfectly comfortable.

He answered questions, introduced me to important people, and occasionally rested a hand against my back whenever someone looked too closely at us.

Every touch was calculated.

Every smile had a purpose.

When a gray-haired man asked how we had met, I nearly choked on my drink.

Ryan answered before I could embarrass myself.

“We met through mutual acquaintances. We got along better than either of us expected, and things moved quickly.”

It was a smooth answer. Vague enough to be believable, but not so vague that it invited immediate suspicion.

The man chuckled. “Ah, love at first sight?”

Ryan glanced at me.

“Something like that.”

I forced a smile. “He surprised me.”

That, at least, was true.

Ryan's eyes lingered on mine for a second before he turned back to the guest.

We continued like that for the rest of the reception, filling in each other's answers and pretending we had a history worth celebrating.

By the time the last guest congratulated us, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

I had entered the day as Nicole Brown.

Now, apparently, I was Nicole Morgan.

And everyone seemed to think that meant they knew who I was.

***

The car ride to Ryan's mansion was nothing like the wedding reception.

The moment the doors closed, the silence settled between us.

Ryan loosened his tie and checked his phone. I sat beside him, staring through the window as New York passed in a blur of familiar streets and glowing signs.

My thoughts kept returning to my mother.

She should have been there today. She should have seen me in my wedding dress, complained that I looked too thin, and reminded me not to let a handsome man get away with nonsense.

Instead, I had buried her.

And now I was riding to a mansion with a man who barely knew me.

I pressed my fingers together in my lap, trying to keep myself from crying.

“There's a staff at the house who will take care of anything you need,” Ryan said, breaking the silence. “Your meals, laundry, appointments. If you need something specific, let them know.”

“Okay.”

“There will also be family events and public appearances. My family expects us to behave like a genuine married couple.”

I turned to him. “What does that mean when we're alone?”

He finally looked up from his phone.

“It means nothing changes between us privately. We have separate lives. I won't interfere with yours, and I expect the same from you.”

“So, in public, we're happily married. In private, we're strangers.”

“That's the arrangement.”

I let out a short laugh without any humor. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It needs to be.”

I looked back out the window.

“Don't worry, Ryan. I'm not expecting romance.”

“Good.”

The answer came too quickly.

I told myself I preferred it that way. Romance was the last thing I needed right now. I had enough problems without falling for a man who had paid me to become his wife.

Still, hearing him say it so casually made the inside of my chest feel strangely hollow.

I turned my face toward the window and said nothing else.

The mansion was enormous.

That was my first thought when the car stopped in front of it. My second was that I could probably fit my old apartment inside the entrance hall and still have room left over.

Warm lights shone through tall windows. The gardens were perfectly trimmed, and a stone pathway led to the front doors.

A uniformed staff member opened the car door.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Morgan.”

I almost looked behind me to see who he was talking to.

Mrs. Morgan.

Me.

I stepped inside, trying not to stare at everything. The polished floors, the high ceilings, the massive staircase.. it all felt like a place I might visit in a magazine, not somewhere I was expected to live.

Ryan led me upstairs and stopped in front of a bedroom.

“This is yours.”

I walked in. The room was beautiful, with a large bed, soft lighting, and windows overlooking the garden. My suitcase had already been brought up and placed beside the wardrobe.

“Your room is down the hall,” Ryan added. “We'll keep our personal affairs separate. Don't enter my room without permission, and don't interfere with my work or relationships.”

I turned to face him.

“Your relationships?”

“I'm being clear about the boundaries.”

“No, you're listing rules like I'm one of your employees.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “Nicole, this arrangement depends on cooperation.”

“And I'm cooperating. But that doesn't mean you get to treat me like I work for you.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Ryan gave a small nod. “Understood.”

He seemed almost surprised that I'd pushed back.

Good. At least he was learning something about me.

“I'll leave you to settle in,” he said.

He walked out without another word.

I closed the door and leaned against it, finally alone.

The smile I'd worn all afternoon disappeared.

I covered my mouth as a sob slipped out, then another. I tried to hold it in, but there was nobody left to impress, nobody watching to see whether I could play the perfect bride.

I missed my mother.

I missed my old life, even the parts I'd complained about.

And I had no idea how I was supposed to build a new one inside a house that didn't feel like mine.

After a while, I wiped my face and opened my suitcase. I needed to unpack, if only to give myself something ordinary to do.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Ryan.

My family expects us at a gathering tomorrow. You'll meet my grandfather and the rest of the family. Be ready by ten.

I stared at the screen.

Tomorrow?

I hadn't even learned where the kitchen was.

Before I could respond, another message appeared, this time from an unfamiliar number.

The Morgan family expects the newlyweds to arrive together tomorrow. Please be punctual.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

So much for having time to breathe.

I started typing a message to Ryan, asking what I should know about his family, but before I could send it, another message came through.

My grandfather expects to meet you tomorrow. Don't embarrass me.

I read it twice, my fingers tightening around the phone.

I'd survived the wedding, buried my mother, and moved into a stranger's mansion.

Now, before I'd even learned the rules of my new life, my husband was warning me not to make a mistake.

What had I just married into?