Bound by fortune

chapter three.. the wedding

The Plaza Hotel had never looked more intimidating.

I stood in the fancy bridal suite, staring at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror. The wedding dress was absolutely stunning, a classic A-line gown with delicate lace details and a flowing train that made me feel like a princess. Someone had studied my measurements carefully; the dress fit like it had been made just for me.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," Maya said, adjusting my cathedral-length veil. As my maid of honor, Maya had gotten the full treatment of professional hair and makeup, a beautiful bridesmaid dress, and strict instructions about where to stand during the ceremony.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," I admitted, pressing my hand to my stomach. "What if he takes one look at me and says no?or maybe he's horrible.

"Stop," Maya interrupted. "You're spiraling. Remember why you're doing this. Remember what your life will look like in twelve months if this works out."

A knock on the door interrupted us. "Ms. Martinez? It's time."

The production assistant led us through the hotel's elegant hallways toward the ceremony space. I could hear music playing and people talking or actors, I couldn't be sure which.

"Just remember," the assistant said as we reached the doors to the ballroom, "walk slowly, smile, and look happy. The cameras will capture everything, so try to look natural."

Natural. Right. As if there was anything natural about marrying a complete stranger on national television.

The doors opened, and my breath caught. The ballroom had been transformed into something from a fairy tale. White roses and peonies covered every surface, hundreds of candles cast a warm glow over everything, and silk draping created an intimate atmosphere despite the room's size.

But it was the man standing at the altar who made me almost stumble.

Even from far away, I could see he was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. His dark hair was styled perfectly, and he stood with the confident posture of someone used to being in charge.

As I walked down the rose-petal scattered aisle, I tried to get a better look at my soon-to-be husband's face. There was something familiar about his profile, the set of his jaw, the way he held himself.

When I was halfway down the aisle, he turned to watch me approach, and my world tilted.

Alexander Stone.

The same Alexander Stone whose company had rejected my event planning proposal eight months ago. The same man whose assistant had made me feel like I wasn't worthy of working with "clients of Mr. Stone's caliber." The same billionaire CEO who had indirectly contributed to my business's failure when word got out that Stone Industries had turned me down.

My steps slowed, and for a moment, I considered turning around and running. But the cameras were rolling, guests were watching, and Maya was right behind me with an encouraging smile.

Alexander recognized me too. I could see it in his eyes, which widened slightly before his expression returned to neutral. He looked surprised, maybe even regretful, but he didn't move to stop the ceremony.

When I finally reached the altar, Alex extended his hand to help me up the single step. His touch was warm and steady, and he leaned close enough that only I could hear when he whispered, "I'm sorry."

The officiant, a kind-looking minister who seemed genuinely pleased to be there, began the ceremony with traditional words about love and commitment. I barely heard him, too focused on the surreal reality of standing beside Alexander Stone, preparing to promise my life to him.

"Do you, Alexander, take Sophia to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, until death do you part?"

Alex looked directly into my eyes. "I do."

His voice was deeper than I remembered from our brief meeting months ago, and there was something in his tone sincerity, maybe, or determination—that I hadn't expected.

"Do you, Sophia, take Alexander to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, until death do you part?"

My mind raced. I should say no. I should explain that this was all a mistake, that I couldn't marry someone who had already rejected me once. But then I thought about my eviction notice, my crushing debt, and the fresh start that a million dollars could provide.

"I do."

Alex slipped a ring onto my finger, a stunning solitaire diamond that caught the light beautifully. It was elegant and timeless, exactly the kind of ring I would have chosen for myself if I'd had the choice.

"By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Alex stepped closer, his hands gentle as they framed my face. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, though I wasn't sure it was true.

Alex's kiss was soft and brief, clearly meant for the cameras but somehow feeling more real than it should have. When we broke apart, the room erupted in applause and cheers from the assembled guests.

Mrs. Sophia Stone. That was my name now, at least for the next twelve months.

The reception that followed was a blur of congratulations from strangers, posed photos, and the surreal experience of cutting a wedding cake with a man I'd spoken to for maybe five minutes total.

During our first dance, a slow, romantic song that the production team had chosen, Alex finally spoke.

"This is incredibly awkward," he said, his hand warm on my lower back as we swayed together.

"You could say that." I forced myself to smile for the cameras positioned around the dance floor. "I didn't know it was you until I walked down that aisle."

"Would you have gone through with it if you had known?"

Alex was quiet for a moment, considering. "Probably not."

The honesty stung, but I appreciated it more than fake reassurances. "Well, congratulations. You're now married to someone your company considered beneath your standards. How does that feel?"

"Sophia"

"Don't." I kept smiling even as my heart sank. "Let's just get through this reception and figure out how to make this work for both of us."

But even as I said it, I couldn't ignore the way my pulse quickened when Alex said my name, or how right it felt to be in his arms, even under these bizarre circumstances.

This was going to be either the longest year of my life or the most complicated. I was beginning to suspect it might be both.