Page 76 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

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Ava

I’m still buzzing from yesterday’s investment victory as we pull up to Jonas and Sarah’s brownstone. The Riverside Corridor project is actually happening. My vision, my design. Gideon’s team is moving forward with it. Me, the art student they probably all dismissed as a trophy wife, just made a multi-million dollar business decision that got unanimous approval.

Not bad for someone whose stepfather said you’d never amount to anything.

“You’re smiling,” Gideon observes as our driver opens the car door.

“Just thinking about how surprised that board member’s face looked when the committee voted.” I adjust the skirt of my emerald cocktail dress. “You said his face turned this fascinating shade of purple?”

“Red,” Gideon corrects, offering his hand to help me out. “But fascinating nonetheless.”

The townhouse is already humming with conversation and laughter when we arrive. Gideon’s hand settles at the small of my back as we enter, a gesturethat’s become strangely familiar over these past weeks. His touch radiates warmth through the thin fabric of my dress.

Focus, Ava. It’s just a show.

Jonas spots us immediately, breaking away from a conversation to greet us. “The power couple arrives!” he announces, embracing Gideon with a hearty backslap before turning to me. “And the woman of the hour. Riverside Corridor is the talk of the office.”

I feel my cheeks flush. “It was a team effort.”

“Hardly,” Gideon says. “It was entirely Ava’s vision. I just provided the capital.”

Did Gideon King just give me full credit? Someone check if hell froze over.

Sarah appears with champagne flutes. “Happy anniversary, you two!” she says, kissing my cheek. Her perfume is subtle and expensive, nothing like the paint-thinner notes that probably cling to my skin despite my pre-party shower.

“You know it’syouranniversary, right?” I laugh, accepting the champagne.

“Yes, but it’s the first time we’re seeing you since your whirlwind wedding.” Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Everyone’s dying to hear more about how New York’s most eligible bachelor got swept off his feet so quickly.”

Oh crap. Here we go again.

“You’ll have to forgive my wife’s curiosity,” Jonas says with a wink. “She lives for a good romance.”

Gideon’s arm slides around my waist. “What can I say? When you know, you know.”

His voice carries that practiced smoothness we’ve rehearsed, but something in his tone sounds different tonight. More authentic. Still, he’s said that at least athousand times by now, so maybe that can be expected.

“How did you meet?” asks a woman I don’t recognize, inserting herself into our circle.

My pulse quickens. We’ve fielded this question before, but something about this woman’s tone feels like a trap.

Gideon’s eyebrow raises fractionally. “Ava mistook me for gallery staff at first,” he explains, his fingers absently tracing circles on my hip. “It was refreshing to be seen as just a person, not a billionaire.”

“So I’m scolding this guy about champagne trays,” I continue, warmed by the genuine chuckles from our audience, “having no idea who he is, and later I discover he’s not staff but—”

“The owner of half of Manhattan,” Jonas finishes with a laugh.

“Long story short, after spilling champagne on him, he goes home to change, and comes back later that night claiming to be ‘John,’” I add, meeting Gideon’s eyes. “Specifically to explore our connection without his wealth and status interfering.”

Gideon’s gaze holds mine. “I wanted to know if what she felt was real.”

“And was it?” Sarah asks, clearly enthralled.

“Very,” Gideon answers, his voice dropping to that intimate register that makes my stomach flip even though I know it’s all for show.

Is it though? That look doesn’t feel fake.

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