Chapter 2: The Wrong Man
902 Words
His hair was dark and I could perceive the faint smell of expensive cologne and leather, and thought to myself how lucky I was. Although he was unprofessionally late, at least he looked the part: handsome, rich, and responsible. I was greatly satisfied.
I didn't offer any greetings as I grabbed his arm, pulling him into the ballroom and chided, "You're late. I'm supposed to deduct your balance, but seeing how much you've invested in your looks to look the part, I'll forgive you. And if you perform well and I'm satisfied, I'll increase your pay."
He frowned, looking confused. "Excuse me?"
I answered impatiently, "Don't worry, I'm the one who hired you, no confusion. So, just to be safe: I'm Ariana, 25 years old. The couple getting married are my ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, and I hired you because I told them I had a hot boyfriend. So don't embarrass me inside. We just need to act like a couple for the night with a few pecks, nothing overly intimate “
ADRIAN’POV
I don’t attend weddings. Not unless there is a very good reason.
Tonight, unfortunately, there was one.
The Rosewood ballroom was filled with everything I usually avoided—too much perfume, heavy makeup, loud laughter, and fake smiles that barely hid people’s true intentions. Crystal chandeliers glowed above the crowd, reflecting light across polished marble floors and gold-trimmed walls.
To most people, the place probably looked beautiful.
To me, it looked excessive.
Money trying too hard to prove itself.
I adjusted the cuff of my suit and glanced around the room again, already calculating how long I needed to stay before I could leave without offending anyone important.
Five minutes. Ten at most.
Just as I decided to step toward the outer hallway to escape the conversations forming around me, someone grabbed my arm.
There was no greeting. No hesitation.
Just slim fingers curling around my sleeve as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re late.”
I looked down.
She was beautiful—but not in the way most women at events like this tried to be.
Her makeup was minimal, her hair pulled back loosely, and there was a sharpness in her eyes that made it clear she wasn’t interested in playing polite. She looked furious.
At me.
Which was strange, considering I had never seen her before in my life.
“I’m supposed to deduct from your balance,” she continued, already pulling me toward the ballroom entrance, “but seeing how much you invested in your appearance to look the part, I’ll forgive you. If you perform well tonight and I’m satisfied, I might even increase your pay.”
I stopped walking.
She took two more steps before realizing I wasn’t moving.
Then she turned around and frowned at me.
“Excuse me?” I asked calmly.
For a brief second her expression faltered, like she had just realized something might be wrong. But it disappeared almost immediately.
“Don’t worry,” she said impatiently. “I’m the one who hired you.”
I stared at her for a moment.
Behind her, near the ballroom doors, a welcome board displayed the names of the couple getting married tonight.
Mark Lawson and Lucia Hart.
Mark Lawson.
My soon-to-be business partner.
Or at least, that had been the plan before tonight.
A small smile slowly formed on my lips.
This was becoming interesting.
“So just to be safe,” she continued, clearly thinking I needed instructions, “I’m Ariana. I’m twenty-five. The couple getting married today is my ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend.”
That explained the anger.
“I told them I have a hot boyfriend now,” she added quickly. “So don’t embarrass me inside. We just need to act like a couple for the night. A few pecks maybe, nothing too intimate.”
She said all of this as if it was the most normal arrangement in the world.
“You hired me,” I repeated slowly.
She gave me an exasperated look.
“Yes. And I already paid half your fee.”
Ah.
So somewhere in this hotel there was a man being paid to do exactly what I was about to do.
I found the idea strangely amusing.
What made it even more amusing was the way Ariana was staring at me, as if I were the confused one.
I wondered what her reaction would be if she ever discovered who I actually was.
The thought alone was entertaining enough.
“Sure,” I said lightly. “Let’s go.”
Her expression immediately brightened.
“Perfect.”
She slipped her arm through mine and began walking toward the ballroom again.
For a moment, I noticed the faint scent around her—something light and natural. Not the overwhelming perfume most people here were wearing.
It suited her.
We stepped inside the ballroom together.
Ariana looked around the room with visible disapproval.
“So tacky,” she muttered under her breath. “Extra tacky.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You’re very honest about your opinions.”
She shrugged.
Then she paused suddenly.
“Oh right,” she said. “We didn’t talk about you.”
She looked up at me curiously.
“What’s your name?”
I smiled slightly.
“Well, since you hired me,” I said, “why don’t you pick one?”
- Writer
