Winter thought the worst thing was being replaced with her cousin… until she crashed the company’s luxury retreat, almost drowned, and woke up pretending to have amnesia—right in front of the man who humiliated her. Now she’s stuck playing fake fiancée and sharing a room with a sexy stranger who clearly hates her guts… but can’t stop staring at her lips like he wants to ruin her. With an ex who suddenly cares way too much, her dream career on the line, and revenge heating up faster than the resort’s hot tubs, Winter is about to turn heartbreak into the most unforgettable comeback of the year. But there’s just one twist: her fake fiancé is actually the new billionaire chairman of the company… and he’s falling for her, hard.
view moreWINTER
I pack my bags like I’m going to paradise, which, technically, I am. Thirty days of sun, wine, and couple-friendly activities at the Golden Retreat. I’m already picturing paddle-boarding, moonlit dinners, and maybe one of those couple spa sessions where they scrub your sins away. I step out of the house, glowing like a pre-honeymoon goddess in a sundress and lip gloss, only to find Mike at the car, zipping up the trunk with military precision and a face like I just told him I swallowed his promotion. He frowns. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I blink. “Um… packing? Dressing up? Getting ready to go to the annual Golden Retreat? The one your company Valcour International is hosting? The one themed around love and romance and bring-your-significant-other-or-you’ll-regret-it-for-life?” He sighs, long and deep, like I’m a toddler asking for cake before dinner. “Winter, are you seriously leaving your three jobs to go have fun for thirty days? That’s irresponsible. What if you get fired? What about your bills?” I smile like someone on the edge of violence. “Oh, that’s what you’re worried about? Relax, I planned for this. I worked overtime for months. All three jobs approved my time off. My bills are paid. My cats are fed. My soul is moisturized. I’m free, Mike.” He shakes his head slowly. “Yeah… no. I can’t take you with me.” I Pause. “What did you just say?” I ask, suddenly forgetting how to breathe through my nose. “You can’t come,” he repeats, avoiding my eyes. I feel my face twitch. “Okay. I saw the retreat post seven months ago on Valcour’s I*******m. It clearly said partners are required. That includes wives, girlfriends, fiancées, emotional support humans....whatever. I’ve been your fiancée for five years, Mike. If you're not taking me… who are you taking?” He rubs his temples. His anger flares like he’s the victim here. “So now you’re stalking me on social media?” “What? No. I follow Valcour because....hello...I want to work there as a fashion designer one day. That post was public! And you’re deflecting.” I cross my arms. “You promised, Mike. Two years ago, you said you weren’t qualified. Then you got promoted, but last year, you went alone. You said you’d take me this year. You promised.” His expression softens. For a second, I think he’s going to say sorry. Maybe even pull me into a hug. Instead, he does what Mike does best: disappoint creatively. He places his hands on my shoulders like I’m a child he’s about to send to boarding school. “You need to understand me, dear. I already promised to take someone else. I can’t break my word.” “Oh. But you can break your word to me?” “You’re my future wife,” he says, tone so rational I want to scream. “We’re getting married in six months. You should be understanding, Winter. Do you really want your husband to look bad in front of people?” I stare at him like he’s grown two extra heads. “Mike. Who are you taking?” He doesn’t flinch. “Your cousin, Olivia.” My mouth drops open. My ears short-circuit. I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. Nothing. “You’re taking Olivia?” I gasp. “Instead of me?” “She’s your cousin,” he snaps, suddenly defensive. “Can’t you be more considerate?” “I’m sorry....what?” He sighs again. “You know her health isn’t great....” My grip tightens around the suitcase handle. Here comes the pity Olympics. “Her parents died....” "Twenty-five years ago, Mike. They didn’t die yesterday." “She’s had a hard life, Winter. You have everything but she has nothing. Don’t compete with her. She’s been through a lot. And she... she needs this more than you do. You’ll understand someday. You always do.” My heart doesn’t just clench. It tap dances on broken glass. He checks his watch, like this emotional mugging is making him late. “I’m leaving, okay? I don’t want to miss the group photo. See you in a month.” And just like that, he kisses my cheek, gets into the car, and drives off... to a romantic retreat I was supposed to be on, that I basically discovered first. I stand there, in my best heels, with a suitcase full of unbothered outfits and a heart full of pain, watching the man I love disappear into the sunrise like my feelings didn't matter at all.NATH The attraction I felt toward Winter before? That was sympathy. My heart was moved due to her seemingly pathetic condition. But now, it's different. She’s quick, strategic, and bold. Everything I admire in a person. And the fact that she’s playing this so ruthlessly? It only makes me want to see what else she’s capable of. 'This changes everything,' I think, a smile tugging at my mouth. 'Fine, Winter. You want to play? I’ll play. And I’ll make sure you win.' The need to see her hits me out of nowhere. To watch her mask slip, to catch the flicker in her eyes when she’s calculating her next move. I shove the papers back, rearrange the box so it looks untouched, and head for the door. Because now, more than ever, I want to see her act. I step out out of the room, my chest still tight with what I’ve just uncovered, but the need to see Winter outweighs everything else. She said she wanted a stroll, so I head toward the pool. The moment I get there, I freeze. Mike is stand
NATH I sit on the bed after Winter leaves, and let my thoughts spiral. How long can I keep this up? At first, I told myself it wasn’t my place to reveal the truth. But the deeper we get into this game, the more I see how much she trusts me. She looks at me like I’m her anchor. And yet… I know that if I keep silent, one day she’ll feel betrayed. She’ll think I used her. The problem is...I’m starting to want her. Every time she teases me, every time she leans too close, it chips away at my control. If she keeps this up, it’s only a matter of time before I break. Before I give in. And before that happens, maybe she should know the truth. But then I imagine the fallout. Would she forgive me? Or would she see me as just another man taking advantage of her? I rub my face, sighing. I could easily make her an employee at Valcor. Not just an employee—a top designer. After all, I’ve seen her work; she deserves it. But if she wins this game fair and square, she’ll believe she earned
WINTER “Okay,” Nath says suddenly, breaking the spell. “I think that’s enough practice for now.” “Yeah,” I agree quickly, rolling off him before I do something reckless. “But I should flex my muscles a little more, maybe sneak in some practice later.” “Good idea.” He stands, already reaching for his laptop. “I’ll handle some work and maybe order dinner.” “You better call me when it arrives,” I tell him, wagging my finger. “I will,” he promises. And before I lose my nerve, I lean in and kiss his cheek. Soft. Quick. But enough to make him pause. Then I bolt out of the room like I just committed a crime. Outside, I flop onto a lounge chair by the pool, the phone still clutched in my hand. The night air is cool, and for once I actually feel… good. Excited, even. My new friends from earlier spot me and hurry over, squealing like we’re in some teenage sleepover. We start talking about the games, about tomorrow, and one of them gushes about how happy she is now that she has a
WINTER I swear, Nath is the smartest man alive. Note to self: never play chess with this man. He’s terrifying. The way he flipped that punch Mike gave him into a weapon? Genius. I almost want to send him a thank-you card: Dear Nath, thank you for being so unbothered and so annoyingly brilliant. Yours sarcastically, Winter. When Mike dragged him aside earlier, I pretended to wander off…but hello? I’m Winter. I don’t wander off. I lurk. I eavesdrop. My ears might as well have a PhD in selective listening. They thought they were whispering, but I caught the good parts. Nath admitted—clear as day—that he’s not gay. Oh, the fury on Mike’s face? Priceless. He was practically foaming like a rabid dog. Meanwhile, Olivia stood a few steps away, sulking like someone just told her carbs were illegal. Trouble in their camp? Good. Music to my ears. By the time Nath and I head back to his hotel room, I’m staring at him like he’s the eighth wonder of the world. The man’s sharp, strategic, an
OLIVIA I don’t let Mike get another step toward that door. Not until I’ve tried everything. “Think about it,” I say, keeping my tone calm, coaxing, even though my chest feels like it’s going to split open. “Winter would’ve been working at Valcour if you hadn’t given her spot to me.” His hand lingers on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn it. His jaw works, tight, and I know I’ve hit something. I press forward, quick, before the silence can strangle me. “Look, the plan hasn’t changed. We came here to win this. To take the money, enjoy ourselves, build something bigger. So why don’t you just… add her into it? If you win, you give her the job. That’s better than anything she’s chasing right now, isn’t it?” He doesn’t answer, but his brows pull together. He’s listening. I lean in, softening my voice. “Come on, Mike. If you storm in there now, ranting about how she’s your fiancée, she won’t believe you. She’s lost her memory. You’ll look insane. But if you keep calm, win this wi
OLIVIA I can feel the eyes on us, hear the buzz: Senior staff losing control. Violence at the retreat. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. I plaster on a tight smile, but inside, I’m seething. My victory? Gone. The first-place win we earned? Gone too, thanks to the spokesperson's righteousness. And all because Mike decided to play caveman with his fists. I glance at him, and he’s still fuming, chest heaving like he’s just gone ten rounds in a boxing ring. And all I can think is: Congratulations, Olivia. You picked the hottest idiot in the room. Back in the hotel room, Mike is pacing like a caged animal. His jaw is tight, his fists are still balled, and I swear the carpet’s about to catch fire from how hard he’s stomping. And then...crash. He punches the lamp off the nightstand. The lampshade spins off like a frisbee. I fling my arms up. “What are you doing?!” He doesn’t answer. Just snarls, grabs the remote, and hurls it across the room. It bounces off the wall and land
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