Chapter 7
726 Words
This was just paperwork.
Not a vow. Not a real forever.
That was what Talia kept telling herself — even as her hands shook.
It had only been four days since dinner at the Locke estate. Four days since Evelyn’s measuring gaze, Mia’s knowing smirk, and the quiet way Cassian had admitted he never felt good enough. Just long enough for reality to settle in like fog.
She was really doing this.
Phoebe would’ve laughed herself hoarse at the sight, her best friend, chronic commitment-phobe, signing fake marriage papers in what looked like Louboutins and looking like she might bolt at any second.
And somewhere in her head, a college-aged version of herself — wide-eyed, in borrowed lecture notes and hopelessly in love — was screaming.
Talia sat stiffly beside Cassian in his family’s legal firm. Marble floors. High ceilings. Staff who smiled too wide and spoke too softly. Her hand brushed his accidentally, and she pulled back like his skin burned.
A marriage contract.
Confidentiality clauses.
Prenups she couldn’t begin to decipher.
The senior lawyer cleared his throat, sliding the final page toward them.
“Sign here to confirm agreement to the terms of the temporary union between Mr. Cassian Locke and Miss Talia Hart.”
Temporary union.
Clean. Clinical. Almost harmless.
Cassian glanced at her, voice low. “Last chance to run. I wouldn’t blame you.”
She gave him a weak smile. “You wish. I’m charging interest after all this emotional trauma.”
He chuckled. “Deal.”
They signed.
And just like that, she was no longer just Talia.
She was in deep.
Outside the building, a crowd had already gathered.
A sleek black SUV waited at the curb, surrounded by bodyguards in dark suits. Behind a velvet rope, photographers and gossip bloggers snapped photos like it was Oscar night.
“Cassian! Is this the mystery fiancée?”
“Are you in love?”
“Talia, are you pregnant?”
“Is this a rebound from the Cassandra Vale scandal?”
Talia blinked under the flashing lights. Her cheeks burned as her hand tightened instinctively around Cassian’s arm.
He leaned in, his voice steady, anchoring. “Block them out. Just focus on me.”
She did.
For a second, the noise blurred. The cameras faded. All she saw was him — calm, reassuring, impossibly beautiful.
Inside the SUV, windows tinted black and the world shut out, she exhaled.
“I can’t believe this is my life right now.”
Cassian shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “You handled it like a pro.”
“Do you always have paparazzi camping outside your life?”
“Pretty much. You’ll either get used to it… or get amazing at pretending.”
That evening, the garden balcony off Cassian’s home felt like another world.
Soft hanging lights. Open sky. Chinese takeout boxes scattered across a stone table. The night hummed quietly, but the silence between them felt louder.
Talia set her chopsticks down. “Is it just me, or is this all… absurd?”
Cassian lifted an eyebrow. “Only when you say it like that.”
“I mean... this morning we signed fake marriage papers. Tonight I’m dodging baby rumors while eating orange chicken in a billionaire’s garden.”
He smiled. “Welcome to Thursday.”
She laughed despite herself. “Your mom emailed a prenup clause suggestion at three a.m., by the way.”
Cassian groaned. “Of course she did. That woman weaponizes insomnia.”
Then the humor drained from his eyes.
“You didn’t have to say yes,” he said quietly. “I know what I asked… wasn’t easy.”
She didn’t answer right away. Just poked at her food and let the words hang.
Finally, she looked up. “You didn’t ask because it was easy. You asked because you needed someone you could trust.”
“And you said yes,” he murmured. “That still floors me.”
She smiled faintly. “Well… your fake wife has excellent taste in takeout. Terrible taste in movies.”
He leaned back, watching her like she was more than a solution. Like she was the only thing making this insane plan bearable.
And for the first time since they signed, Talia wasn’t sure where the pretending stopped.
…and where the falling started.
- Writer
