Husband for a Day

Two hours to Marriage

Savannah slammed the car door a little too hard and threw her purse onto the leather seat beside her. The Beverly Hills sun was high, her phone was buzzing nonstop, and her heart was still raw from what she'd witnessed less than an hour ago.

“Put me on speaker. Now.” Naomi’s voice rang out the moment Savannah picked up.

“I’m not in the mood, Nae,” Savannah muttered, shifting into drive.

“Oh, you're going to be. What the hell do you mean you walked up to a *stranger* and asked him to marry you?! Who even *does* that?”

Savannah sighed. “I *do* that. Apparently.”

Naomi was cackling now, her laughter completely unhinged. “Sav, you’re not even 25. You're L.A.'s most sought-after heiress. And you—you of all people—propose to a guy who looked like he fixes car engines with his teeth?”

“He was fixing a bike,” Savannah deadpanned.

“Exactly! What if he was a criminal? A drifter? Or worse... what if he’s secretly a billionaire and just wanted to see which desperate heiress would fall into his trap?”

“Oh, please.” Savannah rolled her eyes, turning onto Rodeo Drive. “If he’s a billionaire, I’m the Queen of England.”

“Sav.” Naomi’s voice shifted. Gentle now. “You’re doing all this because of *him*, aren’t you?”

Savannah didn’t respond.

“Tell me what happened,” Naomi pressed.

Savannah exhaled sharply, pulling over into the valet at the Leclerc private office building. She left the keys in the ignition, stepped out, and walked toward the rooftop lounge she and Naomi often used when they needed to be away from the world.

Fifteen minutes later, the two women sat opposite each other—Savannah, with oversized shades covering her swollen eyes, and Naomi, with an expression caught between worry and disbelief.

“He said she was his *cousin*, Nae,” Savannah said, her voice cracking. “He told me that with a straight face. Meanwhile, she was *on top of him* in his penthouse like they’d been doing it forever.”

Naomi winced. “Sav…”

“And get this,” Savannah continued. “His mom called me this morning to confirm the floral arrangement. His mother. Like nothing was wrong. Like I was still the fiancée.”

“I swear the Cole family is allergic to honesty.”

Savannah scoffed. “I should’ve known. The late-night calls. The clingy ‘cousin.’ The overly polite smiles. I walked into that room thinking I’d surprise my fiancé with the ring I had custom-made for him… only to find him halfway undressed with her lipstick all over his neck.”

Naomi took her hand gently. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Savannah bit her lip hard. “I knew I’d lose everything if I called off the wedding. Aunt Mireille made that *very* clear. If I’m not married by 25, the entire Leclerc inheritance goes to her. She’s been circling it like a vulture since I turned eighteen.”

Naomi’s brows shot up. “So your brilliant solution is to marry a biker you met on the street?”

Savannah tried to hold a straight face. She failed.

Naomi laughed again. “Okay but… you’re *really* going through with it? Like, legally? At a courthouse? With a man you don’t know from Adam?”

Savannah raised her chin defiantly. “In less than two hours.”

Naomi blinked. “Girl… you’ve lost your damn mind.”

“He said yes.”

“Of course he did. Have you *seen* yourself? You probably look like money dipped in diamonds.”

“I was crying.”

“Still hot. Rich hot.”

Savannah finally smiled. “He said his name was Luca Cruz.”

Naomi blinked again. “Wait. That name sounds…”

“Don’t say it.”

“I’m just saying. You might’ve accidentally married an ex-con or a runaway CEO. Either way, this is a *movie* waiting to happen.”

Savannah stood, smoothing her cream blouse and checking the time. “The stylist is meeting us in twenty minutes. Then I’m picking up Luca and heading to the courthouse.”

Naomi stood too, placing both hands on Savannah’s shoulders. “Do you want me to stop you?”

Savannah stared at her best friend for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I’ve never been more sure.”

“Then I’ll be there with popcorn and bail money.”

They hugged tightly, a bittersweet tension hanging between them.

As they pulled apart, Naomi added with a smirk, “But promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If this guy turns out to be secretly rich, or insanely hot under all that grease…”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “He’s… rugged. In a confusing way.”

Naomi wagged her brows. “Don’t fall in love with your fake husband, Savannah.”

Savannah laughed, but her heart stung.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s just for a day.”

Savannah’s phone buzzed again—*Bryan Cole*.

Naomi arched a brow. “That cockroach is persistent.”

Savannah sighed and declined the call.

Buzz.

Declined.

Buzz.

Naomi leaned forward. “If you don’t give me that phone—”

“I just want peace,” Savannah muttered.

“You’re not gonna get peace until you crush his ego like a soda can.”

Buzz.

Savannah groaned. “Fine.” She swiped and pressed the phone to her ear. “What?!”

“Savannah, baby—just listen to me,” Bryan’s voice poured through the speaker, syrupy and manipulative. “It’s not what you think, alright? What you saw—it wasn’t even planned. Miranda was drunk. She threw herself at me.”

Savannah stared blankly at Naomi.

“She was *on top of you*, Bryan,” Savannah snapped. “You weren’t exactly pushing her away.”

“It’s complicated,” he said weakly. “You know my family. You know the pressure we’re under. My mom—she expects us to carry the Cole legacy, and I just… I panicked.”

Naomi held out her hand. “Give. Me. The. Phone.”

Savannah smirked and handed it over.

Naomi didn’t waste a second. “Hey Bryan, sweetheart,” she purred.

Bryan hesitated. “Uh… Naomi?”

“Let me make something very clear to you, *Mr. Legacy Pressure*,” she said, her voice like sugar laced with cyanide. “You had the literal goddess of L.A. wrapped around your cheating little fingers and you chose to dry hump your *cousin* in a penthouse like it was a bad porno. Are you *stupid* or just genetically cursed?”

“Naomi—”

“Shut up. This isn’t a dialogue, this is your final eulogy. Savannah doesn’t need your limp apologies, your family name, or your trust fund. She’s marrying someone else today. Let that sink in, Bry-Bry. You fumbled the queen, and now you can go cry into your trust fund like the sad, spineless heir you are.”

Naomi ended the call and tossed the phone back onto the table like it was contaminated.

Savannah stared at her. “You just murdered him verbally.”

Naomi winked. “You’re welcome.”

Savannah exhaled slowly, her chest lighter than it had felt in days. Then she picked up the phone again and dialed a new number.

*Luca Cruz.*

He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was lower than she remembered. Calmer. Confident. “You okay?”

She paused. “Yeah. Just needed to deal with a ghost from the past.”

“I figured.” There was a hint of a smile in his voice.

“I was going to come pick you up. We have a stylist to meet.”

“Nah,” Luca said smoothly. “Text me the location. I’ll come to you.”

Savannah blinked. “You sure?”

“Yeah. You’ve done enough driving today. Besides, I’m curious to see how this day-of-marriage thing plays out.”

Savannah found herself smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. “Alright, Cruz. Impress me.”

“I plan to.”

As she hung up, Naomi grinned at her knowingly. “Oh no. That tone. That smirk. You’re not falling already, are you?”

Savannah laughed. “Relax. He’s just a husband… for a day.”

Naomi sipped her coffee. “That’s how all the good stories start.”