You're marrying me,buddy.

XAVIER The roses reeked of decay, their sweet perfume clingling to the back of my throat like a bad omen. The garden was a masterpiece of forced elegance, a tableau of white silk and crystal, the band's deliberate notes hanging in the air . It was the perfect setting for a perfect marriage – one that would cement my place in the family fortune . I stood at the altar, my palms slick with sweat, as the guests whispered behind their fans and champagne flutes. They were all here for the same reason: to witness a union that would either secure my place in my family wealth. And the bride was a no-show. Margaret had vanished, leaving behind the gown, the vows, and the carefully crafted facade. In another life, I might have admired her courage. A hand touched my elbow, and I turned to find Christopher, Margaret's twin, standing beside me, resplendent in his tuxedo. His eyes met mine, a spark of defiance in their depths. "You look like a man at his own execution," he murmured. "Exe

What are we even?

CRISTOPHER The city was loud, alive, and exactly what I needed. Not the marriage. Not the ring. I left it on the dresser without a second thought. Whatever vows we said back there, they meant nothing here. The club pulsed with heat and bodies, music threading through my veins as I let myself disappear into it. Just movement - the press of someone else’s hands at my waist. “Relax,” the man behind me murmured, pulling me closer.I leaned back into him, letting the rhythm take over, letting my hands wander just enough to keep things interesting. For a moment, I almost forgot— Then I felt it.The cold, intense staring on my back. I turned. And there he was. Xavier. I smiled, and instead of stepping away, I leaned closer into my dance partner, letting my body move more deliberately now. Let him watch. Let's see how far this would go. “Enjoying yourself?” His voice slid through the music when he reached me. I turned slowly. “I was.” The man behind me stepped away witho

I'm gonna ruin you

CHRISTOPHER "You should have walked away tonight," Xavier murmured. I met his eyes. "So should have you." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Xavier's gaze dropped to my lips, and for a moment, I thought he'd kiss me. "We're not doing this here." I raised an eyebrow. "Afraid of a little public display of affection?" His jaw clenched. "I'm not afraid of anything, Christopher. I just don't want to give them a show." I smiled, slow and sly. "You're already giving them a show, Xavier. You're just not sure if you're the star or the audience." He took a step closer, his voice low and rough. "You think you're funny, don't you?" I tilted my head. "I think I'm just getting started." Xavier’s hand shot out, his fingers threading into the hair at the nape of my neck with a sudden, bruising intensity that silenced the next witty remark. He didn’t pull away; he pulled me in until our chests collided, the heat radiating through his shirt. "Then start," he rasped,

Are you gonna deny it?

CHRISTOPHER The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows was offensive. Clothes were a trail of breadcrumbs leading from the door to the oversized mahogany desk and, eventually, to the rumpled expanse of the bed. I was already leaning against the marble kitchen island, wrapped in one of discarded silk robe.Xavier emerged from the bedroom a few moments later, looking infuriatingly composed for a man who had been undone only hours ago. He stopped when he saw me, his expression snapping back into that familiar, unreadable mask. "So," I started, my voice still raspy from the night before. "Let’s get the script out of the way, shall we? Is this the part where you look me in the eye and tell me last night was a momentary lapse in judgment ? " I set the mug down with a soft clink and leaned forward, my eyes dancing with mockery. "Are you going to call it a mistake, Xavier? Or are we going with 'stress-induced anomaly' today? I just want to make sure I have the right

You're a Smith now

CHRISTOPHER The glass doors of Smith-Vance Holdings slid open, and the lobby of the skyscraper fell into a practised, rhythmic hush. This was the debut—the first time the world saw the "unified front" that had cost two empires a fortune and one very long night to construct. "Congratulations, Mr. Smith, Mr. Vance!" The head of security beamed, bowing slightly as we passed the mahogany desk. "Wishing you a lifetime of happiness, sirs," a receptionist chimed in, her eyes darting to the matching gold bands. "Thank you. Get the Sterling files to my office," he clipped out. "Thank you, Janet. The flowers in the lobby are a lovely touch. Though, perhaps a bit much for a funeral, don't you think?" The receptionist’s smile faltered, but I was already stepping into the private executive elevator. The doors slid shut, sealing us in a box of brushed steel and suffocating silence. "A funeral, Christopher? Really?" he hissed, his voice echoing in the small space. "You couldn't manage

Our first gala

CHRISTOPHER "Eyes on the lens, Christopher," he murmured, his lips barely moving as he threw a devastatingly handsome smile towards a row of photographers. "Don't let them see you counting the days." "I'm not counting the days, Xavier," I whispered back, my own smile fixed and brilliant as I waved at a familiar socialite. "I'm counting the minutes until I can take this ring off and stop pretending your breathing doesn't annoy me." As we reached the top of the stairs, a reporter thrust a microphone toward us. "Mr. Smith! Mr. Vance! Is it true the honeymoon was cut short for the tech acquisition?" Xavier’s hand slid to the small of my back—a gesture that looked protective to the cameras but felt like a proprietary brand through my suit jacket. " The honeymoon never ends when you're as in love as we are," he said, his voice smooth . I felt the heat of his palm seeping through my layers. I leaned into him, playing the part of the devoted spouse while my eyes remained col