Page 61 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“There’s more,” Jonas continues. “They’ve been watching your penthouse. Monitoring who comes and goes. They photographed Ava’s friend arriving today.”

My blood runs cold. Lucy. They’re watching us right now.

“How long?”

“Based on what we’ve gathered, at least a week. We’ve identified two of Blackwell’s people, but there could be more.”

A week. Which means they’ve seen Ava and me coming and going separately. Living like roommates rather than newlyweds. Maintaining professional distance even in what should be our most intimate space.

“Have they approached Ava?” The question comes out sharper than intended, an unexpected surge of protectiveness rising in me.

“Not that we know of. But Gideon...” Jonas hesitates. “If Blackwell can prove your marriage is fraudulent, the trust is invalidated. He’ll have everything he needs for the takeover.”

I close my eyes briefly. “I know.”

“We need to move quickly. I’ve set up a meeting for tomorrow morning with Elliott Hayes.”

Hayes. The prominent reputation strategist I had Jonas hire before the wedding.

“Good. We have to get ahead of this.” I check my watch. “And Jonas? Have Ray and James do a sweep of the penthouse for bugs. Today.”

“Already scheduled.”

I end the call and stand motionless for a moment. If Blackwell wants to invalidate our marriage, we need to make it bulletproof. Which means a more convincing public presence. More intimate displays of affection where people can see us. More photographs. More evidence.

The thought of closer proximity to Ava sends an unwelcome charge through my body. I’ve been careful to maintain boundaries. Too careful, perhaps. And now that caution might cost me everything.

When I return to the living room, I find Ava alone, staring out the window. The soft afternoon light highlights the slight furrow between her brows. She’s worried about something.

“Lucy had to leave,” she says before I can ask. “Some emergency at her father’s company.”

I nod, noticing how she hugs her arms around herself. A defensive posture. Something happened while I was gone.

“We need to talk,” I say, moving closer. “There’s been a development.”

Her posture stiffens. “That sounds serious.”

“It is.” I gesture toward the sofa. “Sit with me.”

We sit, and I’m acutely aware of the careful distance she maintains between us. Just as I’ve trained myself to do. A habit we can no longer afford in public.

“Blackwell is investigating our marriage,” I tell her directly. “He’s hired people to watch us, to look for evidence that this is all a sham.”

Her eyes widen. “What? How do you know?”

“This isn’t entirely unexpected. We knew he’d try something like this. I just didn’t expect him to go so far...” I explain what Jonas told me,watching as the implications register on her face. The color drains from her cheeks.

“They were watching while Lucy was here? Jesus.” She runs a hand through her dark curls, a nervous habit I’ve come to recognize. “Did I screw things up? She was asking so many questions.”

“You handled it perfectly,” I assure her, surprising myself with the gentleness in my voice. “But we need to be more convincing going forward. Much more convincing.”

Ava swallows visibly. “What exactly does that mean?”

I lean forward. “It means we need to look like a real couple in love. Not just in public, but anywhere we might be observed.”

“You think they’re watching the penthouse?” A note of panic edges into her voice.

“I know they are. I’ve ordered a security sweep for listening devices, but we have to assume we’re being observed whenever we’re in common areas with windows or outside.”

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