Page 48 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

I turn to face my cousin fully. “I didn’t ‘jump toher defense.’ I intervened in an inappropriate line of questioning that would have wasted valuable meeting time.”

“If you say so.” Jonas doesn’t look convinced. “Just remember the terms of your agreement. When this is over—”

“I know the fucking terms,” I interrupt. “I wrote them.”

Ava approaches. She’s removed her blazer and looks marginally more comfortable.

“So,” she says with forced brightness, “did I completely embarrass myself, or just partially?”

“You did well,” I reply. “Better than many seasoned executives on their first day.”

She looks surprised at the compliment. “Really? Because it felt like I was fumbling through advanced calculus in the dark.”

“You asked intelligent questions and didn’t pretend to know things you don’t,” Jonas offers. “That puts you ahead of half the MBAs I’ve worked with.”

A genuine smile breaks across her face, transforming her features. Something tightens in my chest.

“Thank you for defending me against Mr. Lee,” she says, turning back to me. “Though I could have handled it.”

“I’m sure you could have,” I acknowledge. “But as your husband, it would look strange if I didn’t intervene when someone questioned your capabilities.”

“Right. The appearance of a united front.” Her smile fades slightly. “All part of the performance.”

“Yes,” I agree, ignoring the odd sense of disappointment her words trigger. “That’s exactly what it is.”

Jonas glances between us, clearlynoting something in our exchange. “I should check on those reports. Ava, congratulations on surviving your first board meeting.”

After he leaves, we stand in awkward silence until Ava speaks.

“I should change before I suffocate in this suit.”

“Of course. Ray will escort you home.”

“And you?”

“I have meetings until late. Don’t wait up.”

She nods, understanding our routine already. I watch her walk away, the notepad still clutched in her hand. Something tells me she’ll review those notes tonight, preparing for the next challenge. Determined not to be merely decorative in this arrangement.

“Mr. King?” My assistant interrupts my thoughts. “Your next appointment is waiting.”

“Coming.” I gather my materials, pushing away the lingering image of Ava’s face when she thanked me for defending her.

Just business, I remind myself.

Even if something about her makes me want to protect her from men like Burt Lee and their thinly veiled contempt. Even if seeing her navigate this unfamiliar world with determination rather than defeat stirs something dangerously close to admiration inside me.

Because it doesn’t matter what I feel.

The contract specifically forbids it.

15

Ava

Isit perched on the edge of the supple leather chair in Gideon’s home office, its luxurious softness a reminder of how surreal this all is. How surrealIam in a world I don’t quite belong in. My fingers grip the armrests lightly, anticipation fluttering nervously in my chest at the thought of what’s about to happen.

“The transfer will clear immediately,” Gideon says, his fingers tapping efficiently on his keyboard. His office is all glass, steel, and commanding views of Manhattan. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the city like it’s just another asset in his portfolio. To him, it probably is.

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