The Groom

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Black suit. White shirt. No tie yet. I looked like I was going to a funeral, not a wedding.

Maybe that was fitting.

"You're really doing this." Alessandro leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. He'd flown in from Italy yesterday to be my best man. We'd been friends since business school. He didn't know the half of it.

"The contracts are signed."

"Contracts." He shook his head. "You're talking about marriage like it's a merger."

"It is a merger."

"Damien." He walked into the bathroom, stood behind me so I could see both our faces in the mirror. "You don't love him. You don't even know him."

"That's exactly why it'll work." I picked up my tie. Started looping it around my collar. "No emotions. No betrayal."

"You can't live your whole life afraid of getting hurt again."

My hands stopped. The tie hung loose around my neck.

"I'm not afraid," I said. "I'm smart."

Alessandro was quiet for a moment. Then, "Derek was three years ago. You can't let one bad relationship..."

"One?" I pulled the tie tight. Too tight. Had to loosen it and start over. "He stole eighteen months of my life. Stole company secrets worth millions. Made me look like an idiot in front of my entire board."

"He was a criminal. That doesn't mean everyone..."

"Everyone what? Everyone isn't a liar?" I finished the tie. Perfect knot. "Marcus Laurent is exactly what I need. A business arrangement. Clean. Simple. Three years and done."

Alessandro sighed. The kind of sigh that meant he thought I was making a mistake but wasn't going to argue anymore.

"Fine. But if you change your mind, we can leave right now. Fly to Italy. Forget all of this."

I looked at him in the mirror. "I'm not changing my mind."

But as I said it, something twisted in my chest. A memory I'd been trying to forget for three years.

Derek. In this same penthouse. Standing by the windows overlooking the city.

"This view never gets old," he'd said. Came up behind me. Wrapped his arms around my waist. "We could wake up to this every morning. After we're married."

I'd leaned back against him. Let myself believe it. Let myself think I'd found someone who understood the pressure, the loneliness of running an empire at twenty-nine.

"I love you," he'd whispered against my neck.

I'd believed that too.

Two weeks before our wedding, my head of security came to my office. Put a folder on my desk.

"Sir, you need to see this."

Photos. Derek meeting with Richard Vance, my biggest competitor. Handing over a flash drive. More photos. Derek in Vance's office. Derek signing papers.

"We've been tracking the leak for months," security said. "It's him. He's been copying prototype designs, selling them to Vance Industries."

I'd gone home that night. Found Derek cooking dinner. Smiling. Acting like everything was normal.

"Hey, baby. How was work?"

I'd put the folder on the counter. Watched his face change.

"It's not what it looks like."

"It looks like corporate espionage."

"It's business, Damien. You of all people should understand business."

"I understand you used me. Used my feelings to steal from my company."

He'd shrugged. Actually shrugged. "You're a billionaire. You'll make it back. I needed the money. Vance offered me ten million."

"We were getting married."

"And? Marriage is just a contract. This is just business." He'd smiled then. The same smile that used to make my heart race. Now it just made me sick. "Don't be so emotional about it."

I'd had him arrested that night. Watched the cops walk him out in handcuffs while my mother's engagement ring sat in its box on the counter.

The board meeting the next week was worse. Watching the investors who'd trusted me question my judgment. My leadership. Listening to them debate whether someone who couldn't see betrayal in their own bed should be running a billion-dollar company.

I'd kept my position. Barely. But I'd learned.

Love was a liability. Trust was a weakness. And I'd never make that mistake again.

"Damien." Alessandro's voice pulled me back to the present. "The car's here."

I grabbed my jacket. Put it on. Checked my reflection one last time.

"Let's go."

The drive to the Laurent estate took forty minutes. Alessandro tried to make conversation. I didn't hear any of it.

All I could think was: three years. Just three years of this arrangement. Then I'd be free. No mess. No feelings. No betrayal.

The Laurent estate was smaller than I expected. Old money gone to seed. The house needed paint. The gardens were overgrown.

Desperate. That's what Victoria's background check had said. I could see it now.

The ceremony was set up in the back garden. White chairs arranged in rows. Maybe twenty people total. Small, per the contract.

James Laurent met me at the gate. Smiled too wide. Shook my hand too hard.

"Mr. Cross. Welcome. Thank you for... for this opportunity."

Opportunity. Like I was doing him a favor instead of buying his family's patents.

"Where's Marcus?"

"Getting ready. You'll see him at the ceremony." James's smile flickered. "He's very excited."

Liar. But it didn't matter. This wasn't about excitement. It was about business.

I took my place at the front. Alessandro stood beside me. The guests filtered in. Laurent family members who looked at me like I was either their savior or their executioner.

Then I saw him.

Marcus. Or who was supposed to be Marcus.

He walked down the makeshift aisle between the chairs. Black suit. White shirt. Dark hair slicked back.

But something was wrong.

The way he moved. Too fluid. Too careful. Like he was thinking about every step.

The Marcus I'd met at the gala had stomped around like he owned the place. Loud. Aggressive. Taking up space.

This man barely took up any space at all.

Our eyes met across the garden.

Gray-green. Not the blue-gray I remembered from the gala.

He looked at me for half a second, then looked away fast. Down at the ground.

Marcus would have held the stare. Would have smirked. Challenged me.

This man looked terrified.

People change when they're nervous, I told myself. It's just wedding nerves.

But something nagged at me. Some instinct that had kept me alive in business for fifteen years.

Something was off.

He reached the front. Stood beside me. I could smell his cologne. Expensive. Strong. But underneath it, something else. Something sweet. Like paint thinner.

"You ready for this?" I asked quietly.

He turned to look at me. His hands were shaking.

"As ready as you are," he said.

His voice was wrong too. Slightly higher than I remembered. Softer.

I looked down at his hands. The trembling fingers.

Clean nails. Neat. No ragged edges.

Marcus bit his nails. I'd noticed it at the gala. Couldn't stop fidgeting with them.

These hands looked like they'd never been bitten. Like they'd held paintbrushes instead.

The officiant cleared his throat. Started the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."

I barely heard the words. Just kept staring at the man beside me.

The man who was supposed to be Marcus Laurent but moved wrong, smelled wrong, sounded wrong.

"Do you, Marcus Laurent," the officiant said, "take Damien Cross to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Silence.

One second. Two seconds.

Too long. The hesitation was too long.

I turned to look at him fully. Really look at him.

His face was pale. His eyes were wide. His lips were parted like he couldn't breathe.

And I knew.

I didn't know what, exactly. But I knew something was very, very wrong.

"Mr. Laurent?" the officiant prompted.

The man beside me flinched. Swallowed hard.

"I..." His voice cracked. "I do."

But my eyes had already narrowed.

Because whoever this man was, he wasn't Marcus Laurent.