CHAPTER 2 - THE DEAL

CHAPTER 2...

RUSSELL'S POV

I stared curiously at the woman standing in front of me, desperate questions racing through my mind.

Will she agree to do it? Is she here to cancel her wedding, or is she trying to save it?

Before I could spiral further, the event planner’s voice broke the silence. "Oh, Miss Sharon... you're here already. Have you made up your mind to cancel the wedding?"

My brows furrowed. I kept my eyes fixed on her, noting the subtle hesitation in her posture. She didn't want to cancel—that much was obvious—but the fact that she was here meant her relationship was likely over.

Well, I desperately needed a bride right now. What did I have to lose? Would she even consider it?

As my patience ran thin, desperation took the wheel. I stepped forward and boldly uttered the words: "Cancel hers. Renew mine!"

I turned to face her. She was already shooting daggers at me with her eyes, but I didn't care. I would do whatever it took to get married tomorrow.

"Get married to me tomorrow, Sharon," I said, locking my gaze onto hers.

She scoffed in utter disbelief, her glare intensifying. "What the hell did you just say?"

I turned back to the event planner and forced a tight, fake smile. "Go ahead with the paperwork. I'll be back in a minute."

Before Sharon could protest, I grabbed her hand and bolted for the door. I cracked it open slowly, scanning the perimeter to see if any paparazzi were still lurking around. Finding the hallway clear, I pulled her out of the office and led her up to a secluded corner of the rooftop.

The moment we arrived, she violently yanked her hand out of my grip.

"You dragged me all the way up here, so you better have something incredibly meaningful to say," she fired at me, her eyes blazing. "Because I am in a shitty mood right now."

I licked my lower lip and adjusted the lapels of my jacket, trying to channel my usual on-camera confidence. "Well, my name is Russell. Russell Miller. You've probably heard of me, but I'll keep this brief—"

"I’ve never heard of you," she cut me off, her tone freezing cold. "Who are you, and why the hell did you just blurt out that I should marry you?"

I stared at her for a moment. This wasn't the time to argue or let my ego get the best of me. I needed a bride. That was the mission.

I cleared my throat. "I'm an actor, and I need a wife. My fiancée broke up with me a few days ago because she thought I was cheating. The media got wind of it and they've been hounding me ever since. Our relationship was kept completely out of the public eye, so no one knows what she looks like—but they do know I’m supposed to get married tomorrow. My family invited almost every influential person in this city, and half the entertainment industry is attending. Just because she walked away doesn't mean my reputation has to go down with her."

I took a step closer. "If you just broke up with your ex, then I’m proposing a business arrangement. Marry me for just ninety days. We draft a mutual agreement, we save face, and then we get a quiet divorce. You go on with your life, and I go on with mine. What do you say?"

I watched her anxiously, waiting for a reaction. She was staring at me as if I were speaking an alien language.

Is she processing this? I thought, my anxiety spiking. It's a win-win. We both avoid a massive public embarrassment.

Finally, Sharon exhaled deeply and nodded, looking up at me. "I need to save face too. I have a dozen people who would love nothing more than to watch my wedding get canceled, and I refuse to let them win. So, deal. Do you have a lawyer to draft a contract, or are we doing this manually?"

She was diving straight into business. I liked that. I stretched my hand out to her.

"Manually. Involving a lawyer risks a leak to the public. We make a mutual agreement, and I'll personally see to it that every term is met."

A small smirk played on her lips as she took my hand, her grip surprisingly firm. "We'll meet tomorrow, then," she said, breaking the handshake.

"Sure. First, let's finish up in the planner's office," I reminded her.

Minutes later, we returned to the desk, and I signed the final paperwork for the event. After exchanging phone numbers outside the building, I gave her a professional nod. "See you at the venue tomorrow."

She nodded tightly and left without another word.

The moment she was gone, I pulled out my phone. It had been buzzing nonstop with missed calls and texts from my manager, my friends, and my family. Clutching the device so hard my knuckles turned white, a bitter thought crossed my mind.

Betty, you thought you could ruin me by breaking things off and tipping off the reporters. If you want to destroy my career, you're going to have to try harder than that. I'm not going down easily.

I adjusted my baseball cap, pulled it low over my eyes, and headed toward the parking lot.

SHARON'S POV

The moment I got back to my apartment, I flipped open my laptop and typed Russell Miller into the search bar.

My eyes widened as his biography popped up, followed by a massive list of blockbuster movies. He wasn't just popular; he was an A-list celebrity. How have I never watched any of his movies? I wondered.

Then again, it made sense. I spent twenty-four hours a day buried in office work. When the entire company expects the absolute best from you because you’re the CEO’s daughter, taking time to relax feels like asking for a demotion.

"Oh, he's twenty-nine..." I murmured, spotting his age on the screen.

After a quick scan of his profile, I let out a heavy sigh. My gaze drifted away from the screen and landed on the framed photo sitting next to my reading lamp. It was a picture of Gary and me, taken months ago.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the empty room, turning the frame face-down on the desk.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. It was Russell.

Russell: These are the photos of my family members and their names. It’s necessary you know who they are to avoid mistakes tomorrow. (Though I don't mind if you mess up a little!)

I scrolled through the attached photos. He had two younger sisters. After studying their faces, I replied with a few photos of my own family. I dropped the phone on the desk and headed into the bathroom to wash the stress of the day off my skin.

When I stepped out of the shower, I noticed missed calls from my best friends, Lili and Billy. I dialed them back immediately.

"Hey, girls. I had to head home at the last minute—my dad called," I said, forcing my voice to sound as light and normal as possible. "I'm sorry, but I have to cancel the bachelorette party tonight. We can celebrate tomorrow after the wedding. I'm sure my husband won't mind."

I held my breath, hoping they'd buy it. A loud, frustrated sigh echoed from Lili’s end of the line.

"What a killjoy! I planned on having a total blast tonight," Lili groaned. "Whatever, we'll see you tomorrow at the wedding. I still can't believe we didn't get to throw you a real bridal shower."

Suddenly, Billy gasped loudly, clearly looking at her own phone. "OMG! Russell Miller is also getting married tomorrow! I am so jealous. How lucky can his bride be?"

I swallowed hard, keeping the truth locked away. The girls spent the rest of the night gossiping, joking, and reminiscing about the past. They had no idea what a mess my life actually was, but their laughter managed to distract me from the chaos. Eventually, they hung up when they realized I was dozing off.

THE NEXT DAY

When I arrived at the venue, my jaw dropped. The decor was breathtaking—far grander than what I had originally planned. Guests were already trickling into the massive hall. True to his word, Russell had an assistant waiting for me, who immediately whisked me away to a private bridal suite to get ready.

As the hair and makeup team worked on me, my phone started exploding with texts.

Dad: Sharon, are you sure this is the right venue? I feel like we're in the wrong hall. I can't find Gary's family anywhere.

Lili: Damn, Sharon! Why didn't you tell us you were sharing a venue with Russell Miller?! I can see his manager and his sisters running around here. Are you sure we're in the right place?

My breath hitched. My heart began to race a mile a minute as more messages flooded in from colleagues and acquaintances. Even though the venue address matched the invitation perfectly, the confusion outside was mounting.

You'll all just have to wait until you see me out there, I thought, trying to calm my racing pulse.

Minutes later, the styling was complete. Russell was waiting right outside the door, looking impossibly handsome in his tuxedo. I slid my arm through his, and together, we walked toward the grand entrance of the chapel.

The moment the doors swung open, a wall of camera flashes blinded us. The press was everywhere, lining the aisle all the way down to the altar.

My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced myself to keep moving. I glanced at the crowd, and the sheer shock on my guests' faces said everything. My dad looked like he was about to stagger backward into his seat. The man standing next to me wasn't Gary—it was Russell Miller, one of the top actors in New York. I knew my dad wouldn't dare make a scene or protest in front of a crowd full of high-profile executives and celebrities.

On the groom's side, the guests seemed less shocked about who the bride was, since her identity had been kept a secret, but Russell's immediate family still looked stunned.

Between the intense stares of the crowd and the strobe-like flashes of the cameras, my head began to spin. A wave of intense nausea hit me—a brutal combination of nerves and early pregnancy sickness.

I missed a step, my heel catching on the fabric of my wedding gown. I stumbled, but before I could fall, Russell caught me. His grip on my arm was firm and steady, pulling me back to my feet seamlessly.

"It will be over soon," he whispered, leaning down so only I could hear. "Just hold it together until we're done."

As he spoke, his cologne washed over me. It was a strange, hauntingly familiar scent. It sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I looked up at his sharply structured jawline, a sudden wave of confusion washing over me. Why does this feel familiar?

Before I could puzzle it out, we reached the altar.

The priest was polite, professional, and mercifully fast. Within minutes, we were exchanging vows and rings. Luckily, Russell had brought a wedding band, but it was a few sizes too big; I had to rely on my bridal gloves to keep it from slipping off my finger.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest declared. "You may kiss the bride."

As Russell leaned in closer, a sudden, vivid flashback of that chaotic night at the club ripped through my mind.

I stared at him, but for a split second, Gary’s face superimposed itself over Russell’s. I shook my head violently to snap out of it, but the heavy mix of nerves, the flashing lights, and his cologne hit me all at once. The nausea returned with a vengeance.

I gasped, instantly clapping my hands over my mouth.

The media, sensing a dramatic moment, went into a frenzy. The camera flashes intensified, exploding from every corner of the room like lightning. They were closing in, trying to capture my sudden pale expression.

Russell realized instantly what was happening. Without a second thought, he whipped off his suit jacket and held it up, turning his back to the crowd to shield me entirely from the prying eyes of the cameras. He created a small, private wall between me and the world.

Unable to hold it back for another second, I threw up right into his jacket.