14
1345 Words
Antonio’s pov
The car had been too quiet for too long.
I sat there, slouched against the leather seat, watching the city lights flicker through the tinted glass like they were trying to entertain me. My phone buzzed again—another message from the lawyer, another pointless notification about “contract details.” I sighed, tossed the damn thing aside, and rubbed a hand over my face.
Reya hadn’t said a single word since we got in. She was sitting by the window, her chin propped on her palm, staring out like the streetlights had something more interesting to offer than I did.
Typical.
I turned to look at her anyway. The glow from the city painted her in gold—sharp cheekbones, perfect lips, that small, irritated crease between her brows. Even when she was pissed off, she looked like a magazine cover.
She must have felt me staring because she didn’t even glance my way before saying flatly, “What?”
I smiled. “Nothing. Just wanted to see your beautiful face.”
Her reflection in the window shifted slightly, eyes rolling before she turned to me. “Stop giving me fake flattery, Antonio.”
“I’m serious,” I said, leaning forward a little. “Your makeup’s flawless today. The kind of flawless that makes people forget what they were arguing about.”
She huffed a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Your hair smells good too.” I squinted like I was thinking. “Is that… Vanilla Rose?”
“It’s Amber Grace,” she corrected, crossing her arms.
“Right, Amber Grace,” I repeated, nodding like I’d known it all along. “Knew it was something fancy. Probably costs more than my suit.”
She smiled then, a small one, but I caught it.
“Your dress is perfect too,” I added, because I liked seeing that smile. “And your shoes? I don’t even understand how someone walks in those, but you make it look like an art form.”
Reya tilted her head at me. “You really do have a way with words, you know that?”
“Guilty.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a jerk.”
I chuckled, holding up my hands. “Yeah, I know. But at least I’m a charming jerk. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
“Barely,” she said, though her voice had softened just a little.
I leaned closer, elbows resting on my knees, and lowered my tone. “Look, you don’t have to like me, but maybe try not to hate me so much. We’re stuck with each other for a while.”
She glanced at me sideways. “You’re not cracking me, Antonio. Don’t even try. I’m not someone you can charm and walk away from.”
That made me grin. “Good. I like a challenge.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You really think you can win me over?”
“I don’t think,” I said. “I plan.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head, then leaned back against the seat. “You do realize we have a one-year limit on this marriage, right? After that, we both walk away.”
“Yeah, but a year’s a long time,” I said, watching her lips curve as she tried not to smile. “And I’d rather not spend it fighting some invisible war.”
She sighed and looked at me properly this time. There was something steady in her gaze, something that almost made me forget we were faking this whole thing.
Then she said, “So what do you suggest? We start over?”
I nodded. “Exactly.” I turned in my seat, stretched out my hand toward her like we were strangers meeting for the first time. “Hi. I’m Antonio Velaria. And you are?”
Reya raised an eyebrow, glancing at my hand like it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
She bit back a smile. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet here you are,” I teased. “C’mon, play along.”
She rolled her eyes but finally reached out, slipping her soft hand into mine. “Fine. I’m Reya Vega… though I guess it’s Reya Velaria now.”
I grinned, not letting go just yet. “Reya Velaria suits you better. Has a nice ring to it.”
“Don’t push it,” she warned, pulling her hand away.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The air in the car shifted then, it was lighter somehow, but also charged.
I leaned back, smirking. “So, Mrs. Velaria, the night’s still young. What do you say we go somewhere fun?”
“Fun?” she echoed. “You mean like introducing me to your family? That’s what’s next on the agenda, right?”
My smile faded a little. “Yeah, about that… I’m not exactly ready for that circus yet.”
Her brows lifted. “You’re serious? I thought that was part of the deal.”
“It is,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair. “But not tonight. My stepmother, my father, my brothers—they’re not the kind of people you walk into without armor. And I’m too tired to put mine on right now.”
Reya studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “You really don’t like them, do you?”
“‘Like’ is too generous a word,” I said dryly. “Let’s just say family reunions in the Velaria house are the kind of thing that make you wish you’d stayed in traffic.”
That made her laugh again—a real one this time—and damn, it was worth every bit of discomfort tonight had given me.
“Fine,” she said. “So where do we go instead?”
I pretended to think hard, tapping my chin. “Hmm… how about a bar?”
She made a face. “A bar? That’s your idea of fun?”
“Come on,” I said. “Not one of those fancy rooftop things. I mean a local pub. You ever been to one?”
She blinked. “A pub? As in, with… beer?”
“And peanuts. Don’t forget the peanuts.”
Reya shook her head, amused. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” I said with a grin. “But you said you’d try, remember? And I promise I’ll behave. Mostly.”
She sighed, but I could see the spark in her eyes. “Fine. One drink. And if you embarrass me, I’m walking out.”
“Deal.”
I leaned forward and pressed the button on the console, lowering the partition. The driver glanced at me through the mirror.
“Sir?”
“Take us to the local pub down on Fifth. The one with the neon beer sign.”
“Yes, sir.”
The car turned sharply, and Reya’s shoulder brushed against mine. Neither of us moved away immediately.
She eventually sat back, looking out the window again, and I found myself studying her reflection. The tension between us wasn’t the kind that screamed. It was quiet—like a fuse waiting to be lit.
“So…” she said after a moment, breaking the silence. “Is this what you do with all your fake wives?”
I smirked. “Only the beautiful ones.”
She snorted. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Not when you keep giving me material to work with.”
She shook her head, hiding a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, watching the passing lights dance across her face. “But you like that.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t deny it either.
And for a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of the city outside and the low hum of something we both pretended not to feel—something neither of us could quite name.
- Writer
