011

DEREK

“Seriously, do you fall for me every time you walk into a room?”

I looked down at her, still holding her waist like she was glass I caught before it shattered. Her eyes were wide, big and round like I’d just caught her stealing from my pocket.

“You—you didn’t have to catch me,” she muttered, pushing weakly against my chest.

“Oh yeah? You wanted to land flat on your face?” I raised a brow, not moving an inch. “Be my guest next time.”

“No! I just…” She slipped from my hold and fixed her wrinkled top like she just got into a wrestling match. “I’m not clumsy. That thing was in my way.”

“That thing?” I looked down at the slipper, lying there like it minded its business. “You tripped over a slipper, Rose.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t start, Derek.”

I started anyway.

“Oh, now you want to talk? Weren’t you the same girl who couldn’t open her mouth at dinner? Like someone clicked ‘mute’ on you?”

She walked past me into the room, arms folded like she had a case to defend. “I wasn’t mute. I just didn’t want to say something that’d make your people hate me more than they already do.”

“They don’t hate you,” I muttered without looking at her.

“Are you joking?” she fired. “Jennifer looked at me like I crawled in from the drainage. That Oscar guy and his mom laughed when I talked like I was some clown. And your mother?” She paused. “Your mother looked at me like I stole her wedding ring.”

I didn’t reply. Mostly because I agreed with her. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

“You were sweating buckets, Rose. I almost asked if we needed to call an ambulance.”

“Oh please.” She threw herself on the bed like a tired toddler. “I was fine. Maybe just a little nervous.”

“Sure. So nervous your phone almost gave you a heart attack.”

She sat up and flung a pillow at me.

I caught it easily. Again.

“Now you have energy,” I said. “Where was this fire when Jennifer basically called you a broken project?”

“I didn’t want to disrespect your people.”

“But you can disrespect me?”

“Yes. That’s allowed. Because you? You’re not scary.”

I tilted my head. “You sure about that?”

“Sometimes you are. But not when you’re standing there shirtless like a walking gym advert.”

I blinked.

She really said that out loud?

“So I don’t scare you when I’m shirtless?”

“No,” she replied with a dry tone. “I just didn’t want your abs slapping me in the face when I fell.”

I moved to sit beside her. “So you admit you panicked.”

“I didn’t panic.”

“You froze.” I asked again.

“I tripped.” she retorted.

“You were staring.” I teased. I love this.

“You were shirtless.”

I let out a breath and looked away. I don’t know why I’m entertaining this. This conversation is ridiculous.

But for some stupid reason, I didn’t want her quiet again. The awkward version of her from downstairs? That was worse than her running her mouth.

I was cold. I know it. I didn’t care about most people. I never pretended I did. But watching her fumble through that dinner like a lamb in a wolf’s den?

I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t want her to look like she was breaking. Not yet. Not here.

“You stared at my chest for a full minute, Rose.”

“Did not.” She looked at me like I had grown horns.

“Did too.”

“Shut up.” She barked and stood up.

“Admit it.”

She grabbed another pillow and aimed it at my head. I ducked this time.

“You’re annoying,” she grumbled.

“You talk too much,” I shot back.

We sat there, silence creeping in like a shadow. Her chest rose and fell slowly. Mine didn’t. I barely breathed around people. I didn’t have to. Most people didn’t even get close.

But here she was mouthy, chaotic, annoying.

And yet, she wasn’t pretending. She was just… being herself. As rough as that was.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said suddenly, voice low.

“Doing what?”

“This whole marriage thing.” She turned her face to me. “It’s stupid.”

“You agreed to it.”

“You asked.”

“We signed it.”

“I didn’t think it would feel this… weird,” she muttered.

“Get used to it. It’s happening.”

“Just a contract,” she said quickly, as if reminding herself. “No strings. No feelings. Just acting.”

I looked at her. “I know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not.”

“You better not be thinking of breaking the rules.”

“What rules?”

Her mouth dropped. “Don’t play dumb. Rule one no kissing. No touching. No weird flirting.”

“Right, right. My bad. Forgot about the Holy Ten Marriage Commandments.”

“Derek—”

“I’m joking.” I smirked, dry. “Relax. I’m not begging for your lips.”

She crossed her arms. “You better not be. This thing is fake.”

“I know that, Rose. Trust me, you’re not my type.”

Her face didn’t change. “Good. Because you’re not mine either.”

I gave a slow nod. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

My lips twisted slightly. “Even though I know you hate me.”

She blinked once. “I don’t hate you.”

I raised a brow like I didn’t believe me.

She sighed. “Okay… you’re annoying. You're cold. You talk a lot. But I don’t hate you.”

“You tolerate me?” She asked.

“I tolerate the contract,” I corrected. “You came with it.”

“Wow,” she mumbled, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed. “So warm and romantic.”

“I’m not here to be romantic.”

“And I’m not here to fall in love,” she added.

“Perfect.”

“I’m still not sharing this bed with you,” she said suddenly.

I scoffed. “Then sleep on the floor.”

“You sleep on the floor.”

“This is my room.”

“And I’m your fake wife. That gives me fake wife privileges.”

I shook my head and stood up. “You know what? Do whatever. Just stay on your side.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not trying to cuddle you, Satan.”

“Good. Because I don’t do cuddles.”

She stood up too and grabbed a bottle of water from the dresser.

“I’m not soft, Derek,” she muttered without looking at me. “I know how this works. You don’t like me. Your family doesn’t like me. This whole thing is a mess. But I signed up for it, so I’m in.”

I nodded once. “Yeah. You’re in.”

She paused at the door.

“Just don’t expect me to keep acting quiet,” she added. “If Jennifer opens her mouth again, I’m replying.”

“Do what you want,” I said. “But if you cause a scene, don’t cry about the smoke.”

She didn’t answer. Just walked out, still muttering under her breath about shirtless demons and cold hearted men.

I sat back down on the bed, rubbing the back of my neck.

I don’t like her.

I don’t even know her.

But I also don’t want her walking around like a ghost in my house. Not for my sake but for the sake of peace. If she breaks down, this whole contract falls apart.

And I don’t have time for mess.

This isn’t a love story.

It’s a contract.

And I’ll treat it like one.

No matter how loud she talks.

Or how easily she trips.