The Billionaire's Groom

Morning After

The master suite of the Sterling estate's guest house was bathed in early morning light when Ethan woke, momentarily disoriented by unfamiliar luxury. The bed was enormous, with sheets that probably cost more than his first apartment's rent. He was alone, though the other side showed signs of use – Alex had kept his word about sharing the bed but maintaining distance, both of them too exhausted after the reception to feel awkward about it.

The events of yesterday filtered back slowly: the wedding, the heated almost-real kiss, the reception drama, the quiet moment on the balcony. His finger felt heavy with the platinum wedding band that now marked him as a Sterling, at least on paper.

"Coffee?" Alex's voice came from the doorway. He was already dressed in casual designer wear that probably cost more than Ethan's entire wardrobe (pre-marriage edition), holding two steaming mugs. "I made it myself. No complicated machines involved."

"My hero," Ethan sat up, accepting the cup gratefully. "How long have you been up?"

"A few hours. Had some calls with the Tokyo office." At Ethan's raised eyebrow, he added, "What? Markets don't stop for honeymoons."

"Speaking of which..." Ethan took a careful sip of perfectly made coffee. "Don't most newlyweds usually take one?"

"Already arranged. We leave for the Maldives next week. The board expects it, and it'll give the press something to focus on besides digging into our 'whirlwind romance.'" Alex settled into a nearby chair, his own coffee forgotten as he checked something on his phone. His frown deepened.

"What's wrong?"

"Marcus sent over a draft of his article. It's... not what we expected."

"Good not what we expected or bad?"

"Both? Neither?" Alex ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. "He's focused on the changing face of corporate America – old money adapting to new values. He's using our wedding as a centerpiece, painting Sterling Industries as a company in transition."

"Isn't that good?"

"It would be, except he's hinting at deeper stories. Listen to this: 'While the Sterling-Chen wedding represents a public embrace of change, sources suggest the family's private struggles with acceptance run deeper than one same-s*x marriage. Recent revelations about James Harrison's past relationships raise questions about the cost of maintaining traditional appearances in modern times.'"

Ethan winced. "Cathy's going to hate that."

"She already does. She called at dawn." Alex set his phone down carefully. "But that's not the part that worries me. There's a paragraph about my father's business trips to Africa, specifically Nigeria, in the late '90s. About unexplained absences and financial transfers."

"You think Marcus knows something?"

"I think he's fishing. The question is, what's he hoping to catch?"

Before Ethan could respond, a knock at the door announced Victoria's arrival. "Sorry to interrupt the honeymoon bubble, but we have a situation. The Times wants an exclusive interview. Today."

"That's... fast," Ethan managed.

"Marcus's article has everyone scrambling for the human interest angle. The Times is offering prime placement – 'Modern Love' column. They want the romance, the details, the 'how we fell in love' story." Victoria's expression was sympathetic but firm. "We need this. It'll control the narrative better than letting people dig."

Alex was already reaching for his phone. "Set it up. But here, not the office. We want intimate but controlled."

"I'll have the staff prepare the main house." Victoria paused. "You might want to... rumple things up a bit here. Make it look lived in. They'll probably want photos."

After she left, Ethan fell back against the pillows with a groan. "We need a better 'how we met' story than 'at your cousin's wedding.'"

"Why? It's true." Alex moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his presence making Ethan's heart do complicated things. "You were arguing with the florist about stem lengths. I thought you were the most competent person I'd ever seen."

"That's... actually kind of sweet."

"I'm capable of sweet." Alex's smile was soft. "Sometimes the best lies contain truth."

The moment stretched between them, warm and dangerous. Then Alex's phone buzzed again, breaking the spell. "That's the office. The board wants to meet before the official vote next week. I should go in."

"On your honeymoon morning? That's dedication."

"That's survival." Alex stood, straightening his casual perfection back into CEO mode. "The car will take you back to the city whenever you're ready. Unless..." he hesitated. "You could come with me. See the office, meet the team. Might help with the interview later."

"Wouldn't that be unusual? Bringing your new husband to work?"

"Probably. But then again, when have the Sterlings ever done anything normally?"

Two hours later, Ethan found himself stepping into Sterling Industries' executive floor. The building hummed with expensive efficiency, all glass and chrome and power. Alex moved through it like he'd been born to it – which, Ethan supposed, he had been.

"Mr. Sterling!" A sharp-dressed woman in her forties hurried over. "The board is waiting in the main conference room. And Mr. Washington is here for follow-up questions."

"Already?" Alex's jaw tightened. "Thank you, Sarah. This is my husband, Ethan. He'll need full access clearance and an office set up on this floor."

"An office?" Ethan hadn't expected that.

"You'll need somewhere to work when you're here. Unless you'd prefer to keep running your business from Brooklyn?"

The question carried weight. Moving his business to Sterling Tower would make their marriage look more real, but it also meant deeper entanglement in Alex's world.

"I'll have it arranged," Sarah said smoothly, already tapping on her tablet. "The corner office next to yours is available. It has excellent light for meeting with clients."

Before Ethan could process this, Marcus Washington appeared, looking perfectly at ease in the corporate environment. "Ah, the happy couple. How's married life treating you?"

"Wonderfully," Alex's arm slipped around Ethan's waist, the gesture natural enough to seem real. "Though I'm surprised to see you here. The diversity piece seemed... comprehensive already."

"Oh, it is. This is for a different story entirely." Marcus's smile was professional but his eyes were sharp. "I'm doing a series on corporate governance. Fascinating stuff – family businesses, succession planning, hidden assets. You'd be surprised what people keep buried in old records."

The threat was subtle but clear. Alex's arm tightened slightly around Ethan. "Perhaps we should discuss this in my office."

"Actually," Marcus checked his watch, "I have everything I need for now. But I'm sure we'll talk again soon. Oh, and Ethan?" He paused. "The Times reporter, Clara Chen? No relation, I assume? She's excellent at finding connections people might prefer stayed hidden."

After he left, Ethan turned to Alex. "That was..."

"A warning shot." Alex ran a hand through his hair again. "He knows something. Or thinks he does."

"About what?"

"I don't know. But whatever it is, my grandmother probably does." He checked his phone. "The board meeting starts in ten minutes. Will you be okay here? Sarah can show you the office space."

"Go. Be brilliant. Save your company from conservative old men."

Alex's kiss was quick but firm, probably for the benefit of watching employees, but it still left Ethan slightly dazed. Then he was gone, leaving Ethan to navigate this new aspect of their fake marriage.

The corner office was stunning, with views that made his Brooklyn space look like a closet. Sarah efficiently arranged for his things to be moved, access cards to be coded, and security protocols to be established. By lunch, Ethan had a fully functioning office in one of New York's most prestigious buildings.

"Your sister called," Sarah appeared with coffee and schedules. "She's being released from the hospital tomorrow. I took the liberty of arranging transportation."

"You didn't have to—"

"You're a Sterling now," she said simply. "Taking care of details is what we do."

The reminder sent an odd pang through his chest. A Sterling. The weight of it felt heavier here, surrounded by the empire that name had built.

The Times reporter arrived precisely at two, armed with a photographer and incisive questions. Clara Chen (indeed no relation) had kind eyes but a reporter's instinct for weakness.

"Tell me about the proposal," she said, watching them closely.

Alex took Ethan's hand, the gesture smooth and practiced. "It wasn't traditional."

"I wouldn't have said yes to traditional," Ethan added, surprising himself with the truth in the statement.

"And your families? They supported this quick timeline?"

"My grandmother," Alex said carefully, "believes in preserving traditions. But she also believes in family. In the end, that matters more than anything."

"Even business considerations? There are rumors the board wasn't pleased with your coming out."

"The board," Alex's voice carried the weight of generations, "will either accept that Sterling Industries is evolving, or they'll be left behind. Some traditions deserve preservation. Others need to change."

The interview continued, a dance of truth and careful omission. The photographer captured them in casual moments – Alex's hand on Ethan's back, shared glances, small smiles. Creating evidence of love that felt less fake with each click of the shutter.

Finally, Clara asked, "What would you say to people who think this is too fast? That you barely know each other?"

Ethan thought about their coffee shop conversation, about quiet moments and shared secrets. "Sometimes," he said slowly, "you just know."

Alex's hand tightened around his. When Ethan looked up, the emotion in Alex's eyes seemed too real for comfort.

After the reporters left, they stood in comfortable silence, watching the city lights emerge as day faded to dusk.

"You were amazing," Alex said finally. "Even I almost believed us."

The words hurt in an unexpected way. Before Ethan could examine why, Alex's phone buzzed yet again.

"The board meeting..." he trailed off, reading something. "They're calling for an immediate vote. Tomorrow."

"Can they do that?"

"They're trying to force my hand. Catch us unprepared." His jaw set in familiar determination. "They won't succeed."

"What do you need?"

"You." Alex met his eyes directly. "Be there. Show them this is real. That I'm settled, committed, ready to lead."

"I'm your husband," Ethan said softly. "Where else would I be?"

The smile Alex gave him felt more genuine than any kiss they'd shared for cameras. They worked late into the night, preparing strategies and responses. At some point, someone ordered dinner. They ate between documents, shoulders touching, planning their defense.

It felt real. All of it – the casual intimacy, the shared purpose, the way Alex's hand found his when particularly stressful emails arrived. Even their eventual drive home to the penthouse felt natural, like they'd been doing this for years instead of days.

"Thank you," Alex said as they rode the private elevator up. "For today. For all of it."

"Just doing my husbandly duty," Ethan tried to joke.

"No," Alex caught his hand. "You're doing so much more than duty."

The elevator doors opened before Ethan could respond. They prepared for bed in comfortable silence, the routine already feeling familiar. But as Ethan lay in their massive bed, listening to Alex's steady breathing beside him, he couldn't help wondering:

How much of this was still pretend? And when had he started wishing it wasn't?