JACE
679 Words
The morning sunlight filtered into Ariana’s room through floor-to-ceiling curtains. She stretched slowly, feeling the soft luxury of the King mansion bed beneath her.
For a brief moment, she forgot where she was.
Then she heard voices echoing from downstairs—and remembered everything.
The contract.
The fake marriage.
The cold billionaire.
And now… this ridiculously lavish house.
She got up, wrapped herself in a silk robe one of the maids had set out, and stepped into the hallway just as a deep, unfamiliar voice echoed from below.
“Yo, King! What the hell, man? Since when do you sleep in?”
Ariana’s brows pulled together. That wasn’t Damon.
She descended the stairs, curiosity tugging her steps forward—just as a tall, broad-shouldered man with messy dark hair stepped into the foyer, sunglasses pushed onto his head and a confident smirk on his face.
He paused when he saw her.
His brows rose—slowly.
“Well, well,” he said, his grin widening. “This is new.”
Ariana straightened, folding her arms. “Can I help you?”
“I sure hope so,” he said with a laugh. “You must be the maid.”
Her eyes narrowed.
He laughed again, holding up his hands. “Kidding. Mostly. I’m Jace. Damon’s best friend. And you are…?”
“Ariana,” she said carefully. “His wife.”
Jace’s jaw dropped. “Wait—his what?”
Before she could respond, he stepped forward and took her hand, giving it a gentle shake… that lasted a bit too long.
His eyes scanned her face, curiosity sparkling. “You’re stunning. Like—wow. Are we sure you married Damon? Because I’m starting to think he has a soul after all.”
She pulled her hand back, clearly uncomfortable now.
That’s when Damon’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“Stay away from my wife.”
Both heads turned.
Damon stood at the base of the staircase in dark slacks and a crisp shirt, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Jace blinked. “Wait... you’re serious?”
Damon’s eyes stayed locked on Jace. “Dead serious.”
Ariana stepped away quickly, feeling like the tension in the room could cut glass. She mumbled something about needing air and walked past them, heart pounding from the sudden energy shift.
As soon as she was gone, Jace turned toward his friend with a slow, wicked grin.
“You. Got. Married.”
Damon walked past him, voice flat. “Come upstairs.”
Jace followed, still laughing under his breath.
•
Inside Damon’s study, Jace dropped onto one of the leather chairs like he owned it. “Alright. Spill. What the hell is going on? I thought you didn’t even believe in dating.”
Damon poured himself a drink and tossed the crystal stopper on the table. “It’s a contract marriage.”
Jace blinked. “Oh, we’re doing that? That’s real?”
“She needed revenge. I needed leverage. Simple.”
“And you chose her? Out of all the women who throw themselves at you?”
Damon sipped the drink. “She’s smart. She’s desperate. And she doesn’t take my crap.”
Jace snorted. “Clearly. She looked ready to slap me for holding her hand.”
“She talks back too much,” Damon muttered.
“That’s why I like her already,” Jace said with a smirk. “She’s not scared of you.”
“She should be.”
Jace leaned back, amused. “You’ve got this ice-cold womanizer act going, but I saw the way you looked at her. You’re already cracking.”
Damon shot him a glare.
“Relax,” Jace said, holding up his hands. “Your secret’s safe with me. But dude… she’s gorgeous. That mouth on her? Fire. And if this contract thing blows up in your face, I call dibs.”
Damon’s glass hit the table a little harder than necessary.
“Noted,” he said coldly.
Jace just laughed harder. “Man, this is gonna be fun to watch.”
- Writer
