Chapter Two

Marie's POV

I yanked my hand free, stepping back until I bumped into Mark's solid chest. "Don't," I hissed, my voice sharper than I intended, my cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and panic. What was he doing here? Why was he here?

Mark's arm immediately wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded with burning eyes as he glared at Andrea. "You don't just grab my girlfriend and call her your wife. Who are you?"

Andrea didn't flinch. He chuckled, that deep, rich sound I remembered too well, the one that used to make my knees weak. He turned his gaze back to me, ignoring Mark completely, like he wasn't even there.

"Marie," he said softly, his voice dripping with that same charm that had hooked me two years ago. "You have no idea how long I've searched for you. We have a lot to discuss. This little game of hide and seek has gone on long enough."

I swallowed hard, my mind reeling. Two years. It felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago all at once. I met Andrea Forrester on a luxury island cruise that I had won as a runner-up prize in a beauty pagent my last year of college.

He had a reputation even then, and I soon got to find out why. The first few hours with him had been heaven on earth. He'd been charming, kind in that effortless way that swept you off your feet. Witty jokes over champagne, his hand brushing mine like it was the most natural thing. I wasn't immune.

By that night, I was in his bed, screaming his name as he took me apart piece by piece, and drawing lazy circles and stars on his chest afterward. I thought that was it, the end of our path. One incredible night with a man I'd never see again.

But the next morning, he'd woken me with breakfast in bed and a ridiculous offer. A contract. Be his fake wife for one month, the duration of the cruise, for a check of five hundred thousand dollars.

I'd laughed at first, thinking he was playing some twisted game. But he was dead serious, sliding the papers across the sheets with that intense stare. I'd thought about it for what felt like hours, my practical side warring with every warning bell. Losing out on that kind of money? For someone just starting out in life and scraping by like I was? It was insane. I gave in and signed without fully thinking through the consequences.

I didn't even think it was real. For all I knew, he wanted me to be his wife on the island so other women would let him be.

And damn if he hadn't delivered as a charming husband. That month was the best time of my life, passionate nights that left me breathless, days where he made me feel like the center of his world. Every touch, every whispered promise, I still remembered all of them.

After the deal expired, I had him transfer the money straight to my sister's account for safety, then slipped away with a fake number and email. I had thought that was the end of it, thought I'd moved on.

Yet here he was, standing in front of me like he never even left my life. He'd been searching for me.

"Marie?" Mark's voice pulled me back, tight with confusion and anger. "You know this guy? What is he talking about?"

I shook my head, forcing my voice steady even as my pulse thundered. "Andrea…I..I..."

Andrea's smile didn't waver. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek black business card, holding it out to me. "Take it, my private number. I've spent two years finding you, and I don't think here's the right place for us to have our first proper discussion."

Before I could react, Mark lunged forward and slapped the card out of Andrea's hand. It fluttered to the floor like a discarded challenge.

"Back the hell off," Mark snapped, his face flushing with fury. He fumbled for his phone, jabbing at the screen. "I'm calling security. You don't get to come in here, touch her, and spout this crazy shit. Marie's with me."

It was clear Mark didn't even know who Andrea was.

The tension crackled between them like electricity. Nearby guests were starting to glance our way, whispers rippling through the crowd. My stomach twisted with guilt, Mark didn't deserve this. He'd been nothing but good to me, and here I was, hurting him because of my reckless past actions.

Andrea stared Mark down for a long heavy minute. Andrea didn't look like the type that would get in a fist fight in public, but at that moment I could tell he desperately wanted to punch Mark.

"This doesn't concern you," he said finally, his voice calm but laced with warning. "Marie knows exactly what this is about. Don't you?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Emotions swirled, anger at Andrea for ambushing me, shame for the secrets I'd kept, and a treacherous pull low in my belly that I hated myself for feeling. "Just go," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

Andrea held my gaze one beat longer, then turned on his heel and walked away like he hadn't just turned my life upside down.

Mark didn't waste a second. His hand gripped my arm, not rough, but firm with urgency, and he steered me toward the exit, weaving through the guests who were now openly staring.

"We're leaving," he muttered, his mood completely ruined.

***

The car ride home was suffocating. Mark sat rigid beside me, staring out the window, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle ticking. I reached for his hand, but he pulled away slightly, then seemed to catch himself and let me hold it. "Mark, I'm sorry," I started, my voice thick with emotion. "That was…unexpected. I didn't know any of this would happen…"

He turned to me finally, eyes searching mine. The respect was still there, but hurt flickered behind it. "Who the hell was that, Marie? He called you his wife, grabbed your hand like he had every right. And you just stood there. Talk to me. What aren't you telling me?"

I squeezed his hand, my chest aching. I had thought Andrea would never appear in my life again and that was why I didn't bother to tell Mark about any of it. But if there was any time to tell Mark about Andrea and our stupid deal, it was now.

"It was two years ago. Before us. I met him on a cruise. It was supposed to be nothing, just one night. But he offered me this deal. A fake marriage for a week, for money. I was broke, naive and desperate then, so I took it. We… we played the part, and then I left. Gave him fake contact info and moved on. I thought that was the end of everything…until now.."

Mark exhaled sharply, rubbing his free hand over his face. "A fake marriage? To Andrea Forrester? For money? Jesus, Marie. If it was fake, why the hell is he still calling you 'wife' after two years? That doesn't sound like nothing. Did you sleep with him? During this 'deal'?"

That question felt unnecessary and heavy at the same time, and I felt tears prick at my eyes. Not from sadness exactly, but the weight of everything happening. I could tell Mark was angry and jealous, but above all that, it felt like he didn't trust me any more, and that was what bothered me the most.

"Yes," I admitted quietly. "It was part of the act. But it was long before I even knew you. And it ended. I chose to walk away. I chose this, with you. You're the one who makes me feel loved. He's just… history."

Mark's laugh was bitter and short. "History that shows up at our gala and tries to hand you his card? That stares at you like he owns you?" He pulled his hand back, leaning forward to tell the driver to hurry. "I love you, Marie. I've been patient, respectful. I thought we were building something real. But tonight? It feels like I don't even know you."

Tears slipped down my cheeks now, hot and frustrated. "You do know me. This doesn't change us. Andrea is intense, obsessive even. But I don't want that life. I want what we have, it's why I'm here, please Mark…"

He softened a fraction, reaching over to brush a tear from my cheek, but his eyes were still guarded. "Then why did you freeze like that? Why didn't you tell him to fuck off right away?" His voice cracked with emotion. "Be honest with me. Are you still married to him? Did you lie to me this whole time?"

The question was expected, and completely justified, but it still hurt. How on earth did he think I'd be with him while being married? Did he really think I'd stoop that low? I stared at him, heart breaking a little at the doubt I'd planted.

"No," I said firmly, grabbing his hand again. "I'm not married. It was fake, just for a week, nothing legal that stuck. I swear on everything, Mark. I'm not lying about us. Please believe me."

He searched my face for what felt like forever, the car pulling up to my building in tense silence.

"I want to," he murmured finally. "But this isn't over. We will need to talk more.." He kissed my forehead, respectful even in his anger, but the fire from earlier was dimmed.

I stepped out and watched him drive away, my heart still judging me for everything that had happened. Andrea's return had completely shattered the illusion of my new peaceful life, and deep down, I feared the passion he brought with him wasn't something I could ignore forever.

I hadn't gotten to the front door of my house when my phone screen came alive with a notification—a message from an unsaved number.

"It's me wife, and I'd like us to meet and talk, it's important.”