Fake Vows, Real Baby

Chapter 5: A Date in Disguise

Lexi stared at herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman reflected back.

The silver gown clung to her curves, elegant and understated, with a slit high enough to make her question every step. Her hair had been swept up into a soft chignon, and a delicate diamond necklace graced her collarbone—borrowed, of course. Everything about her screamed “trophy wife,” except the tired look in her eyes.

“You ready?” Alexander’s voice came from behind the bedroom door.

“Define ‘ready,’” she muttered.

But she opened the door.

For the first time since their wedding, he stared—really stared. His gray eyes lingered for half a second too long before the mask returned.

“You’ll do.”

“Don’t overwhelm me with praise,” she shot back, stepping past him.

The event was a charity gala hosted by Alexander’s grandmother—Eleanor Knight, the formidable matriarch of the Knight family empire. The woman was sharp, elegant, and terrifyingly perceptive. Lexi had read about her in tabloids: former model turned philanthropist with a reputation for sniffing out lies like bloodhounds detect fear.

“This isn’t just about showing face,” Alexander said as the car pulled up to the grand ballroom. "My grandmother believes in marriage. Real marriage.”

“So I have to pretend I’m desperately in love with a man who thinks feelings are a liability?”

“Only for three hours,” he replied dryly. “Then you can go back to hating me.”

Lexi took a breath.

“I don’t hate you.”

“That’s a mistake.”

Inside the ballroom, flashbulbs popped the moment they stepped in. Alexander placed a hand on the small of her back, his touch light but firm. Cameras clicked. People whispered.

She’s beautiful.

Is that really his wife?

She doesn’t look like his type.

Lexi smiled, held her posture, and did what she knew best—play a role. Only this time, the script was unwritten.

Eleanor Knight spotted them instantly. She was draped in navy silk, her silver hair pinned back, and eyes sharp as knives.

“Alexander,” she greeted with a kiss on the cheek. Then she turned to Lexi. “So you’re the young woman who finally trapped my grandson.”

Lexi extended her hand with a composed smile.

“Lexi Knight, ma’am. It’s a pleasure.”

Eleanor didn’t smile—but her eyes twitched with approval.

“At least you have manners. We’ll speak later.”

Lexi’s spine stiffened, but she nodded. “I look forward to it.”

Over dinner, Lexi played her part flawlessly—laughing at the right jokes, asking the right questions, keeping her hands lightly on Alexander’s arm. Several guests praised her poise.

Alexander leaned in, voice low enough only she could hear.

“You’re better at this than I expected.”

“And you’re exactly what I expected.”

He looked amused.

“Careful. You’re beginning to sound like a wife.”

After dessert, Eleanor approached again.

“Dance with me, Alexander,” she demanded.

He rose without protest, leaving Lexi momentarily alone.

But soon, a hand extended toward her.

“May I?”

It was a younger man—late twenties, sandy hair, navy suit. Kind smile.

“I’m Liam. Eleanor’s nephew.”

Lexi hesitated—then smiled and took his hand.

They joined the others on the dance floor.

“So,” Liam said, leading gently, “you’re the girl who stole the Ice King’s heart.”

Lexi laughed.

“I’m just borrowing it. He’ll want it back soon.”

Liam grinned. “Smart and honest. I like that.”

Across the floor, Alexander had stopped dancing with Eleanor. His eyes locked onto Lexi. His jaw tightened.

Liam noticed.

“Oops. I think I’m in trouble.”

“Let him stew,” Lexi murmured.

“God, I wish I were married to you,” Liam joked.

Before Lexi could respond, a strong hand gripped her waist.

“Excuse us,” Alexander said coldly.

Liam raised his hands in surrender and stepped back.

Alexander pulled Lexi close, their bodies nearly flush.

“What the hell was that?” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s called dancing,” she replied, her smile sweet. “Very common at these events.”

“He was flirting.”

“Jealous?”

“I don’t get jealous.”

“Liar.”

He spun her, then pulled her back sharply, so close she could feel the tension radiating from his chest.

“Keep provoking me, Lexi, and I might forget the contract.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” she whispered.

He stopped moving, their eyes locked. For a breathless moment, nothing existed but the electricity between them.

And then, he stepped back.

“We’re leaving.”

In the car, silence stretched.

Lexi finally spoke.

“I wasn’t trying to make you angry.”

“You succeeded anyway.”

“So you were angry.”

He didn’t answer.

She turned toward him, her voice softer.

“You’re not used to losing control, are you?”

“No.”

“Well, get used to it. Because you married a woman who doesn’t take orders.”

He looked at her then, really looked. Not with cold detachment—but with fire.

“And you married a man who doesn’t like games.”

Lexi leaned closer.

“Maybe we both picked the wrong person.”

“Or the perfect one,” he replied.

For once, there was no sarcasm in his voice.

Only danger.

And desire.