CHAPTER 02 — THE MAN WHO DOESN’T DO “PRETEND”
2049 Words
Elara didn’t breathe again until the bar door slammed shut behind her ex.
The noise echoed too loud.
Too final.
Only then did reality crash down on her chest.
She had said it.
She had let a stranger claim her as his fiancé in front of a witness who would report directly to the partners.
Her phone vibrated violently in her pocket.
One message.
Then another.
Then another.
PAULA: Guest list updated.
PAULA: Partners are… surprised.
PAULA: Call me ASAP.
Elara closed her eyes.
Christmas Eve.
Fiancé.
No room to back out.
Jace’s arm was still around her waist—solid, steady, like he hadn’t just detonated her life with one sentence.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She laughed once. It came out thin. “Define okay.”
He studied her face, sharp eyes missing nothing. “You didn’t panic.”
“I’m panicking internally.”
“Good,” he said. “Means you’re still thinking.”
She turned toward him, heart hammering. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“No,” he agreed easily. “But you needed someone to.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to decide things for me.”
Jace’s gaze didn’t harden.
It sharpened.
“I didn’t decide,” he said calmly. “I stepped in. You could’ve corrected me.”
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She hadn’t corrected him.
Because the truth was ugly.
Because being alone on Christmas Eve would cost her everything.
“You said fiancé like it was nothing,” she said instead.
“For you,” he replied, “it wasn’t nothing.”
Her pulse jumped.
Before she could respond, his hand slipped from her waist.
The loss of contact startled her more than it should have.
“Come on,” he said. “We need to talk somewhere quieter.”
She hesitated. “About what?”
“About the fact that half the room heard me claim you,” he replied evenly, already turning. “And the other half will hear by morning.”
The cold outside hit her hard as she followed him onto the sidewalk.
Snow drifted between them, deceptively calm.
Jace stopped near a black motorcycle parked under the streetlight.
Of course it was a motorcycle.
Leather seat. Polished chrome. Expensive. Not a toy.
Her stomach tightened.
“This isn’t a date,” she said quickly.
He glanced at her. “Good. I don’t do first dates with lies.”
That sent a chill straight down her spine.
He leaned against the bike, arms crossing over his chest.
“So,” he said. “Let’s set the rules.”
Her breath caught. “Rules?”
“You dragged me into your mess,” he continued calmly. “Which means we either clean it properly—or it explodes.”
“I didn’t drag—”
“You let me,” he corrected gently. “Important difference.”
She hated that he was right.
She folded her arms. “Fine. What do you want?”
His eyes darkened—not with hunger, but calculation.
“I don’t play pretend,” he said. “Not in public. Not in private.”
Her heart skipped. “Meaning?”
“Meaning if I’m your fiancé,” he continued, “people won’t smell bullshit.”
A pause.
“And they will test us.”
Her throat went dry.
“You’ll meet my family,” he added.
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“And I’ll meet yours,” he went on. “If they ask how we met, we answer the same way. If they ask when I proposed, we don’t hesitate.”
“This is insane.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Which is why it’ll work.”
She shook her head. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he said quietly. “You’re a lawyer. Corporate. Control freak. You smile when you’re cornered and bleed privately.”
Her chest tightened.
“And,” he added, eyes flicking briefly to her phone, “whatever’s happening on Christmas Eve scares you more than me.”
That hit.
Hard.
“You don’t get to psychoanalyze me,” she snapped.
“I already did,” he replied calmly. “Now I’m setting terms.”
Her pulse raced. “And if I refuse?”
Jace straightened.
The easy confidence faded—just a fraction.
“If you refuse,” he said, “I walk away.”
Her breath hitched.
“And tomorrow,” he continued, “your coworker tells the partners you panicked. They start asking questions. Christmas Eve becomes an audit.”
Her mind spiraled.
“You’d really just leave?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “Because I won’t be used halfway.”
The silence between them stretched thin.
Snow landed on his jacket. On her hair.
She realized something terrifying.
He wasn’t bluffing.
“What do you get out of this?” she asked quietly.
Jace studied her for a long moment.
“Honesty,” he said. “And control over how far this goes.”
Her stomach flipped. “That doesn’t sound reassuring.”
“It shouldn’t.”
He stepped closer, voice lowering. “If we do this, Elara, it’s ten days. Christmas to New Year’s.”
Ten days.
Forced proximity.
Public lies.
Private consequences.
“And after that?” she whispered.
He held her gaze.
“Then we decide what was real,” he said. “And what never should’ve happened.”
Her heart slammed painfully.
Because deep down, she already knew.
This wasn’t just a lie anymore.
It was a door.
And she was standing right in front of it.
Jace reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.
“Give me your number,” he said.
She hesitated.
He raised a brow. “If we’re engaged, I should at least know how to reach you.”
She took the phone with shaking fingers and typed.
When she handed it back, his screen lit up with her name.
Elara Hart.
Jace looked at it once.
Then up at her.
“Good,” he said. “First rule.”
Her pulse thudded. “What rule?”
He smiled—not warm. Not cruel.
Dangerously certain.
“No more backing out.”
Her phone buzzed again.
PAULA: They want to meet him. Soon.
Elara stared at the message.
Then up at Jace.
And realized she hadn’t just agreed to a fake fiancé.
She had signed a contract she didn’t know how to break.
Elara didn’t answer right away.
Her phone buzzed again in her hand, like it was impatient with her hesitation.
PAULA: They’re rearranging the seating.
PAULA: Your fiancé is expected to attend the pre-dinner meeting too.
Her throat tightened.
Pre-dinner meeting.
That wasn’t just a family event.
That was business.
Eyes sharper than knives. Questions disguised as jokes.
She looked up at Jace slowly.
“You realize,” she said carefully, “that the people you just lied to don’t forgive mistakes.”
“I don’t make them,” he replied.
That should not have sounded reassuring.
“And if they find out?” she pressed. “If they dig into you?”
Jace tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was the one being examined now.
“Then they’ll find what I allow them to find,” he said.
Her stomach dropped.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one that matters.”
He pushed off the motorcycle and took a step closer, close enough that she could smell leather and cold air clinging to him.
“You’re worried about reputation,” he continued. “About what happens when they realize I don’t belong.”
She swallowed. “You don’t.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed.
“No,” he agreed quietly. “I don’t.”
The honesty hit harder than denial would have.
“And yet,” he went on, “you still said yes.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
Because that was the truth she didn’t want to face.
“You didn’t even hesitate,” Jace added. “Not when it counted.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” she snapped.
“You always have a choice,” he said evenly. “You just picked survival.”
That word landed like a verdict.
Snow drifted between them again, slow and indifferent.
Elara exhaled shakily. “What happens if I screw this up?”
Jace didn’t answer immediately.
That silence scared her more than confidence would have.
“If you screw this up,” he said finally, “they won’t come for me.”
Her heart stuttered.
“They’ll come for you.”
She looked at him sharply. “You’re saying this like you know them.”
“I know people who smile while counting your losses,” he replied. “Doesn’t matter if they wear suits or leather.”
Her grip tightened around her phone.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused softly.
His eyes darkened—not amused. Focused.
“No,” he said. “I’m preparing you.”
“For what?”
“For the part where pretending stops feeling like pretending.”
Her breath caught.
Because something in his voice told her he wasn’t talking about kissing in front of a fireplace or holding hands for photographs.
He was talking about pressure.
Scrutiny.
Control slipping.
“You’ll have to trust me,” he continued. “Publicly.”
“I don’t trust easily.”
“I noticed,” he said. “That’s why you’re good at what you do.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t even know what I do.”
“I know you protect systems,” he replied. “Companies. Structures. Rules.”
He stepped even closer.
“And I know,” he added quietly, “that tonight, you stepped outside all of them.”
Her pulse roared in her ears.
“Say we do this,” she said. “Say we survive Christmas Eve. What stops you from walking away and letting me deal with the fallout?”
Jace met her gaze without blinking.
“Because if I walk away,” he said, “they’ll assume you lied alone.”
Her chest tightened.
“And because,” he added, lowering his voice, “I don’t leave things unfinished.”
That was not comforting.
That was a warning.
Her phone vibrated again.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Looking forward to meeting Mr. Wolfe.
Her blood went cold.
She looked up at him. “Did you—?”
“Yes,” he said calmly. “I gave them my name.”
“You didn’t even ask me.”
“I told you,” he replied. “No half-measures.”
She stared at him, heart hammering.
“This is escalating,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
Jace smiled then—not wicked, not soft.
Certain.
“You’re the one who asked for a fiancé,” he said. “I’m just making sure he’s convincing.”
The weight of it settled into her chest.
This wasn’t a favor anymore.
This was an agreement with teeth.
Elara inhaled slowly.
Then, because there was no version of tonight where she walked away untouched, she lifted her chin.
“Ten days,” she said firmly. “After New Year’s, this ends.”
Jace’s eyes held hers.
“Ten days,” he agreed.
He reached out—not touching her this time, but hovering close enough that the heat lingered.
“And Elara?”
“Yes?”
“If at any point you want out,” he said quietly, “you say it to me first.”
Her breath hitched. “You’d let me go?”
A pause.
“Eventually,” he said.
That single word sent a shiver straight down her spine.
Jace turned and swung onto his motorcycle.
The engine roared to life, loud and commanding.
He handed her a helmet.
“Dinner,” he said. “My way.”
She stared at the helmet.
At him.
At the night she no longer recognized.
And realized the most dangerous part wasn’t getting caught.
It was that some part of her wanted to see what happened next.
She took the helmet.
And climbed on behind him.
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