Chapter 7: The Honeymoon Facade

Celeste

The Azure Coast Resort looked like something out of a travel magazine—white sand beaches stretching endlessly, turquoise waters that sparkled under the Mediterranean sun, and architecture that somehow managed to be both modern and timeless. Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze, and the air smelled of salt and expensive perfume.

It should have been paradise. Instead, it was just another stage for our performance.

"Remember to smile," Killian said under his breath as we stepped out of the private car. His hand found the small of my back—a gesture that looked affectionate but felt practiced, mechanical. "The press will be watching."

And they were. Cameras flashed as we walked through the resort's grand entrance, reporters shouting questions about our "whirlwind romance" and "fairy tale wedding." I smiled until my face hurt, leaned into Killian's side like a woman in love, played my part perfectly.

The moment we entered our suite, his hand dropped away like I'd burned him.

"The summit begins tomorrow morning," he said, already pulling out his phone and scrolling through emails. "Breakfast meetings at seven, conference sessions until five, dinner with investors at eight. You'll need to be ready by six-thirty each day."

"Okay." I stood awkwardly in the middle of the lavish suite, still wearing my travel outfit while he'd already mentally checked out of the conversation.

"Nora sent over your wardrobe for the week. Everything's been selected to complement my meetings." He gestured vaguely toward a door. "Your room is through there. We'll maintain separate quarters, as agreed."

Of course. Separate rooms. Because this was business, not a real marriage. Not a real honeymoon.

"Killian—"

"I have calls to make." He was already turning away, heading toward what I assumed was his bedroom. "Try to get some rest. You look tired."

The door closed between us with a soft click that somehow felt louder than a slam.

I stood there for a long moment, feeling the weight of my situation settle over me like a heavy blanket. This was my life now. Playing dress-up for strangers, sleeping in separate rooms from the man whose name I now carried, being dismissed like an inconvenient appointment.

My room was beautiful—all white linens and ocean views, with a bathroom larger than my childhood bedroom. But it felt sterile, empty, like a expensive hotel room rather than a place where someone actually lived.

I unpacked mechanically, hanging up the designer dresses Nora had selected. Each one probably cost more than my family's monthly grocery budget. Each one was carefully chosen to make me look like I belonged in Killian's world.

But I didn't belong. I was just visiting, playing a role, counting down the days until my year-long sentence ended.

The next three days blurred together in an exhausting parade of business events and forced smiles. Breakfast with tech moguls who spoke in acronyms I didn't understand. Conference sessions about market trends and corporate strategies that might as well have been in a foreign language. Dinner after dinner with men in expensive suits who looked at me like I was an interesting accessory to Killian's portfolio.

And through it all, Killian played his part flawlessly. In public, he was attentive—his hand always finding mine, his eyes softening when they met mine across crowded rooms, his voice warm when he introduced me as "my wife."

But the moment we were alone, he became a stranger again. Cold, distant, barely acknowledging my presence except to give instructions about the next event.

It was during a cocktail reception on the third night that I met Elena.

She swept into the room like she owned it—tall, elegant, with honey-blonde hair and the kind of effortless sophistication that made me feel like a child playing dress-up. Her red dress probably cost more than a car, and she wore it with the confidence of someone who'd never doubted her place in the world.

"Killian, darling!" Her voice was melodic, cultured, with just a hint of a European accent. She glided over to us, air-kissing both his cheeks with the familiarity of old friends. Or maybe something more.

"Elena." Killian's voice warmed in a way it never did for me. "I didn't know you'd be attending."

"I couldn't miss the summit." Her eyes—sharp and assessing—finally landed on me. "And you must be the mysterious bride. How... unexpected."

The pause before that last word spoke volumes.

"Celeste, this is Elena Volkov, CEO of Volkov Enterprises." Killian's hand tightened on my waist, though I couldn't tell if it was possessive or warning. "Elena, my wife, Celeste."

"How lovely." Elena's smile didn't reach her calculating blue eyes. "You're quite different from what I expected."

"Oh?" I tried to match her polished tone. "What did you expect?"

"Someone more..." She waved her hand vaguely, her diamond bracelet catching the light. "Killian has always preferred a certain type. Sophisticated. Worldly. Someone who understands the demands of his position."

The implication was clear: someone like her. Someone who belonged in this world of wealth and power.

"Celeste is exactly what I need," Killian said, his voice taking on an edge. "Excuse us, Elena. I need to introduce my wife to the Takahashi group."

He steered me away, but I could feel Elena's eyes boring into my back. When I glanced over my shoulder, she was watching us with an expression that made my stomach twist. Not jealousy exactly. Something colder. More calculating.

"Don't let Elena get to you," Killian said quietly. "She enjoys playing games."

"What kind of games?" I asked, but he was already flagging down another business associate, slipping back into his role as the devoted husband with disturbing ease.

That night, I couldn't sleep. The suite felt too large, too empty, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore kept calling to me. I changed into a simple sundress and slipped out onto our private terrace, then down the stairs that led to the beach.

The sand was cool beneath my bare feet, the moon painting everything in silver and shadow. I walked along the water's edge, letting the waves lap at my toes, trying to remember what it felt like to be just Celeste Andrews instead of Mrs. Killian Hart.

That's when I saw him.

Killian stood further down the beach, still wearing his dress pants and white shirt from dinner, though he'd lost the jacket and tie somewhere along the way. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his shoulders tense as he stared out at the dark water like it held answers to questions he wouldn't voice.

He looked... lost. Vulnerable in a way I'd never seen him. For a moment, I considered leaving him to his solitude. But something drew me forward—curiosity, or maybe just the desperate need to see something real beneath all his carefully constructed masks.

"Couldn't sleep either?" I asked softly when I was close enough.

He stiffened, not turning to look at me. "You should go back inside."

"So should you." I moved to stand beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body but not quite touching. "What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking." His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. "Something you should try less of."

The casual cruelty of his words stung, but I was getting used to it. This was how he operated—pushing people away with calculated coldness whenever they got too close.

"Why do you do that?" I asked quietly.

"Do what?"

"Act like you hate me when we're alone, but play the devoted husband in public. Which one is real?"

He finally turned to look at me, and in the moonlight, his eyes looked almost haunted. "Neither. Both. Does it matter?"

"It does to me." I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm night. "I know this is just business, but I'm still a person. You can't just... turn me on and off like a light switch depending on who's watching."

Something flickered across his face—guilt? Regret? But it was gone before I could name it. "You're right. You are just business. That's all this is, all it will ever be. The sooner you accept that, the easier this year will be."

"Then why did you kiss me like that at the wedding?" The question burst out before I could stop it. "If I'm just business, why did it feel—"

"It didn't feel like anything." His voice was harsh, cutting. "I played my part. You played yours. That's the arrangement."

"You're lying." I don't know where the courage came from, but suddenly I was standing my ground instead of backing down. "I saw your face after. You felt it too. Something—"

"There's nothing real about this marriage, Celeste." He stepped closer, and despite his cruel words, I caught something desperate in his eyes. "You don't belong here. In my world, in my life. You're a means to an end, a temporary solution to a complicated problem. The sooner you accept that, the less you'll get hurt."

"Which world?" I whispered. "The resort or your life?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, and for a heartbeat, I saw past all his defenses to something raw and broken underneath. Then he turned away, walking back toward the resort with long, angry strides.

"Killian—"

"Go to bed, Celeste." He didn't look back. "We have breakfast with the Nakamura group at seven."

I stood alone on the beach, watching him disappear into the shadows, my heart aching in ways I'd promised myself it wouldn't.

Back in my room, I pulled out the leather journal Mom had given me before the wedding. "For your thoughts," she'd said. "So you don't lose yourself in all of this."

I opened to a blank page and began to write.

Day 5 of Marriage:

I don't know who Killian Hart really is. The cold businessman who treats me like furniture? The man who chose a wedding dress based on my childhood sketches? The person who kissed me like I mattered, then told me I don't belong?

Maybe he's all of them. Maybe he's none of them.

What I do know is this: I can't let him break me. I can't let this arrangement destroy what's left of who I am. I need to find strength in this chaos, steel in this storm.

I survived losing my dreams once. I can survive this.

I have to.

I closed the journal and pressed it against my chest, making promises to myself in the darkness. I would survive this year. I would protect my heart. I would not let Killian Hart's coldness freeze the parts of me that still knew how to feel.

Even if every day with him made those promises harder to keep.