Chapter 1 - The Billionaire's TouchThe air in the ballroom vanished.
For three seconds, the ambient chatter of two hundred wedding guests, the soft melody of the string quartet, and even the clinking of champagne glasses melted into absolute, ringing silence.
I couldn't move. The heat of Ryan Blackwood’s hand burned through the burgundy fabric resting on my shoulder. His long, calloused fingers held me with a steady, protective weight that sent an electric shock straight down my spine. The fragrance of cedarwood, smoked vanilla, and crisp autumn air enveloped me, completely replacing the cheap floral perfume Vanessa was wearing.
Vanessa’s condescending smile froze, shattering into a mask of pure, stunned confusion. Her surgeon boyfriend, Ethan, instantly straightened his posture, his jaw dropping as his eyes darted from Ryan’s face to the hand resting so intimately against my shoulder.
"R-Ryan... Mr. Blackwood?" Vanessa stammered, her voice dropping three octaves into a breathless squeak. "I... I didn't realize you were attending Sophia’s reception."
Ryan didn't answer her immediately. He leaned down slightly, his lips hovering mere inches from my ear. His dark eyes, as deep and sharp as obsidian, met mine in the reflection of a nearby mirrored pillar.
"Play along, Ellie," Ryan murmured in a low, gravelly baritone meant only for me. "Trust me."
Before I could even process how America's youngest billionaire knew my name, Ryan pulled his hand from my shoulder, slid it effortlessly around my waist, and pulled me flush against his side. The warmth of his body felt like a shield against the cruel world I had been drowning in all evening.
"I apologize for interrupting," Ryan said calmly, addressing Vanessa and Ethan with a cool, aristocratic detachment. His voice carried that effortless authority that made men bow and empires yield. "Ellie and I were running behind schedule because of my flight from London. But I see you were in the middle of informing my wife about your brother’s ambitious new life in Los Angeles."
The word wife hung in the air like a thunderclap.
Vanessa’s face turned an ugly, splotchy red. "W-wife? But... Daniel said... Daniel said Ellie was just a diner waitress with no prospects!"
Ryan raised a single dark eyebrow. A faint, razor-sharp smirk touched his lips. "Your brother’s perception of value is clearly as flawed as his judgment. Ellie isn't a waitress. She is the principal creative director of Blackwood Holdings’ new literary foundation... and the woman who holds my marriage certificate."
I choked back a gasp, keeping my face perfectly calm only because Ryan’s fingers pressed gently against my hip, giving me an invisible signal to remain silent.
"Now, if you’ll excuse us," Ryan continued, his tone cutting like a diamond blade, "my wife has spent enough time at table nineteen. We have a toast to make."
Without waiting for Vanessa to utter another word, Ryan guided me gently across the polished dance floor. The sea of guests parted instantly, whisper networks exploding behind us like wildfire.
"Did you see that?!" a woman gasped.
"Is that Ryan Blackwood? With Ellie?!"
"Wait... she's married to a billionaire?!"
We reached the high VIP table near the wedding stage. The moment we were slightly isolated from the crowd, I pulled back from his grip, my heart hammering like a trapped bird inside my chest.
"Who are you?" I whispered frantically, my dark eyes searching his unreadable face. "Why did you just tell everyone we're married? And how do you know my name?!"
Ryan looked down at me, his dark eyes softening just a fraction. He reached into his inner suit pocket, pulled out a small, worn leather-bound notebook, and held it out to me.
My breath hitched.
It was my green notebook—the one containing the drafts of my unfinished novel, which I had accidentally left behind at the diner two weeks ago when working a double shift.
"You dropped this at 'The Corner Diner' fourteen days ago," Ryan said softly, his voice dropping its cold edge. "I read every single page while waiting for my coffee. You're a brilliant writer, Ellie. But more importantly..."
May you like
He took a step closer, his gaze locking onto mine with terrifying intensity.
"...I need a fake wife for the next six months to execute a thirty-billion-dollar merger. And you need a way to shatter the people who broke your heart. Let's make a deal."
