Page 90 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

When the elevator doors close behind him, I slump against the counter. The pastries sit there, a thoughtful gesture that completely contradicts his detached behavior. Who does this? Who pretends nothing happened while simultaneously ordering your favorite pastries?

A man who’s as confused as you are, probably.

I pick up the éclair and take a bite, letting the rich chocolate fill my mouth. It’s delicious and infuriating, just like everything about this situation.

Last night was supposed to be a performance, a show for anyone who might be watching. Sowhy does it feel like we broke something important? And why, despite our mutual agreement that it meant nothing, did he remember exactly which pastries make me happy?

I stare at the half-eaten éclair in my hand. “This is ridiculous,” I tell it, as if a pastry might have answers. “It was just sex. Really good, mind-blowing sex that I can’t stop thinking about, but still just sex.”

My phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Gideon.

“Forgot to mention—dinner tonight? Jonas and his wife invited us. Maintaining appearances.”

I stare at the text, trying to decode if there’s any hidden meaning. Probably not. Just more fake-marriage maintenance.

I type back: “Sure. What time?”

His response comes immediately: “7. Wear the blue dress.”

The blue dress. The replacement he’d bought after Vanessa ruined my gown at the gala. The one that hugs every curve and makes me feel almost beautiful. The one hanging in my closet with the tags still on.

I shove the rest of the éclair in my mouth, chocolate smearing my lips.

Totally fine. Just another fake date with my fake husband.

I grab another pastry for good measure. If I’m going to navigate this emotional minefield, I’m going to need all the sugar I can get.

The car rideto Jonas’s brownstone is quiet, almost painfully so. Gideon spends most of it answering emails on his phone while I stare out the window, wondering how we managed to go backward since last night. The silence between us feels heavy, chargedwith all the things we’re not saying. I’m in the blue dress he asked for, but when I came out of my bedroom wearing it, he hardly noticed. Good things I left the tags on it, so I can still return it if I want the money.

Jonas and his wife Sarah greet us at the door with warm smiles that make my chest ache. They look like a real couple. You know, the kind that actually loves each other instead of having sex on office desks for “show.”

“Ava!” Sarah hugs me like we’re old friends. “Nice to see you again.”

“You as well,” I say, my fake smile firmly in place.

“Oh, you forgot a tag!” Sarah says.

I look down and grimace in mortification, and quickly tuck the tag back inside my dress. My face is a bright red.

Gideon’s hand settles on the small of my back as we move into the living room, and I hate how my body still responds to his touch. This is all muscle memory, nothing more. Still, it calms my tag embarrassment, and I feel the heat draining from my face.

Through appetizers and wine, Gideon and I perform our roles flawlessly. I laugh at all the right moments. Our fingers intertwine on the table. We’re the picture of newlywed bliss.

But something’s different tonight. There’s a calculated precision to Gideon’s performance that wasn’t there before. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he looks at me. His touch feels mechanical, rehearsed.

“So how’s married life treating you both?” Jonas asks over dessert, his eyes moving between us with what feels like too much perception. I wonder again ifJonas knows.

Of course he knows, he’s Gideon’s most trusted confidant.

Again I feel a pang of guilt for not telling Lucy.

I glance at his wife Sarah. Likely she has no idea about our little arrangement.

“Married life is definitely an adjustment,” I say honestly. “But a good one.”

Gideon nods. “Ava’s been looking at gallery spaces. She has quite the eye for potential.”

“Just like she spotted your potential, right?” Sarah teases, and everyone laughs.

---