Page 120 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

He makes a satisfied sound, pulling me closer. “Good.”

That’s all he says. All he needs to say. We don’t discuss what it means or how it changes things or what happens when our contract ends. We just exist in this undefined space between fake and real, pretending we’re still adhering to the rules while breaking the most important one every night.

And each morning, I wake up wondering how I’ll ever learn to sleep alone again when our time runs out.

39

Gideon

Iwake before Ava does, her body curled against mine, her dark curls spilling across my chest. For two weeks straight, she’s slept in my bed. Not that I’m counting.

This wasn’t part of the plan. None of this was.

Carefully, I extract myself without waking her and head to the kitchen to start coffee. My phone buzzes with messages from Jonas about the Tanaka deal finalization, but I ignore them for now. Domestic fucking bliss has never been my thing, yet here I am, measuring coffee grounds and setting out two mugs instead of one.

When I return to the bedroom with coffee, Ava is gone. I hear the shower running in her bathroom, not mine. Even though she sleeps in my bed every night now, she still maintains this separation. Her clothes remain in her closet, her toothbrush in her bathroom. Small invisible boundaries that remind us both this arrangement has an expiration date.

Six months was the agreement. We’re well past the halfway mark now.

I retreat to my home office, reviewing the Tokyo contracts while sipping my coffee. I’ve been working from home almost every day since coming back.

An hour passes before I hear Ava moving around in the kitchen. When I emerge, she’s hunched over her laptop at the dining table, so absorbed she doesn’t notice me watching her.

“Finding something interesting?” I ask, startling her.

She jumps slightly, then minimizes a window on her screen. Not fast enough. I caught a glimpse of real estate listings. Gallery spaces.

“Just doing some research,” she says, pushing a stray curl behind her ear. Her tell when she’s nervous.

“For what?” I move closer, leaning against the counter.

She hesitates, then sighs and reopens the window. “Gallery spaces in Chelsea. I’m trying to get a sense of what’s available and what I might be able to afford once the settlement matures.”

Once the settlement matures. Once our arrangement ends. Once we go our separate ways. The words aren’t spoken, but they hang in the air between us.

“Some of these places are going for twenty thousand a month,” she continues, scrolling through listings. “But I found a few smaller spaces that might work. Some are for sale. Maybe I’ll just buy one out right. We’ll see.”

I study her profile as she points out different listings. The determined set of her jaw, the focused intensity in her eyes. This is what I wanted, encouraged even. For her to plan her future, build her career. Yet seeing the concrete evidence of our inevitable separation creates an uncomfortable pressure in my chest.

“You know,” I say, keeping my tone casual, “I could make a few calls. There’s a space opening up on West 25th that hasn’t even hit the market yet. The owner owes me a favor.”

Ava stiffens, her fingers freezing over the keyboard. “No.”

“No?” I raise an eyebrow. “It’s prime real estate, Ava. Perfect lighting, high ceilings. Exactly what you need.”

“I don’t want your help with this.” Her voice is quiet but firm.

“You don’t want my help,” I repeat, an edge creeping into my tone. “With something I could resolve with one phone call.”

She turns to face me fully now, eyes flashing. “I need to do this myself, Gideon.”

“Why? Because your pride is more important than practicality?”

“Because I need to know I can do it on my own.” She stands, crossing her arms. “My stepfather tried to ensure I’d never have this opportunity when he sabotaged my scholarship. Every connection I make, every decision I control, it’s reclaiming what he tried to take from me.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I recall her tear-stained face as she described her stepfather’s deliberate sabotage, how he sold her grandmother’s portrait to destroy her chance at a debt-free education. How he systematically undermined her artistic career at every turn.

“I understand that,” I say more gently. “But using my connections doesn’t diminish your achievement.”

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