The Billionaire’s Substitute Bride

Chapter 6

Amara

I needed air.

That was the excuse I gave myself, even though the room wasn’t actually suffocating, even though the music hadn’t gotten louder and the crowd hadn’t gotten any closer.

It just felt like it.

Too many eyes. Too many conversations that seemed to circle back to us no matter where I stood. Too many moments where I caught someone looking at my hand, at the ring, at him, then back at me like they were trying to understand something they weren’t being told.

“I’m stepping out,” I said.

I didn’t wait for a response.

I turned and walked, weaving through the crowd, ignoring the way it parted just slightly for me now, like I had been reclassified into something I didn’t recognize.

I pushed through the doors at the edge of the room and stepped out onto the balcony, the night air hitting me immediately, cool and sharp against my skin.

For a second, I just stood there.

Breathing.

Letting the quiet settle in, letting the distance from everything inside create just enough space for my thoughts to slow down.

This was a mistake.

I said it again in my head, slower this time, like repetition might finally make it stick.

This was a mistake.

“You keep saying that.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course he followed.

I turned slowly.

“You don’t listen very well,” I said.

“I listen,” Adrian replied, stepping out onto the balcony and letting the door close behind him. “You just don’t say anything new.”

“That’s because nothing about this is new,” I said. “It’s still a bad idea.”

“And yet,” he said, stopping a few feet away, “you’re still here.”

I exhaled sharply.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything.”

God.

I looked away, gripping the railing lightly, staring out at the city lights below like they might give me something to hold onto that wasn’t this.

“I should leave,” I said.

“Yes.”

The answer came immediately.

No hesitation.

I turned back to him.

“That was too easy.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then why are you here.”

His gaze held mine.

“Because you haven’t left.”

There it was again.

That same answer.

That same quiet way of turning everything back on me.

I shook my head.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still here.”

I pushed off the railing, stepping toward him before I could stop myself.

“Stop saying that like it explains anything.”

“It explains enough.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I said, my voice sharper now. “It just makes it sound like this is my fault.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he watched me.

Closely.

Like he was waiting for something.

For me to realize something.

For me to say something I wasn’t ready to say.

The silence stretched just long enough to feel deliberate.

Then he stepped closer.

Not rushed.

Not forceful.

Just enough.

The space between us shrank again, that same shift happening in real time, the air feeling heavier, more focused, like everything outside of this moment had faded just slightly.

“You kissed me,” he said quietly.

I held his gaze.

“I know.”

“You put the ring on.”

“You gave it to me.”

“You didn’t refuse it.”

My breath caught slightly.

“Neither did you.”

That made something shift in his expression.

Subtle.

But there.

“Why would I,” he said.

The question landed heavier than it should have.

I didn’t have an answer.

Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to say it.

“Because this is temporary,” I said instead.

“Yes.”

“Because this isn’t real.”

“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”

“Then stop acting like it is.”

He stepped closer again.

This time, I didn’t move.

Didn’t step back.

Didn’t create space.

“Then stop reacting like it matters,” he said.

My chest tightened.

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s accurate.”

I shook my head.

“You don’t get to decide how I react.”

“No,” he said. “But I can observe it.”

“That’s not better.”

“It’s not meant to be.”

God.

The frustration was still there, sharp and immediate, but it was shifting into something else now. Something harder to ignore. Something that had been building since the moment I crossed the room and kissed him without thinking.

“You’re very calm for someone in the middle of this,” I said.

“I’m not in the middle of it,” he replied.

“Then where are you.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Before lifting back up.

“Exactly where I want to be.”

My breath caught.

That shouldn’t have affected me.

It did.

I felt it in the way my body reacted, the way my thoughts stalled for half a second, the way the space between us felt smaller even though neither of us had moved.

“You’re not making this easier,” I said.

“I’m not trying to.”

That was clear.

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself, trying to hold onto something that felt like control.

“This ends tonight,” I said again.

“Yes.”

That answer again.

Too easy.

Too smooth.

Too final.

I didn’t believe it.

Not anymore.

“Then why does it feel like it doesn’t,” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, his hand lifted, slow, deliberate, giving me just enough time to react, to step back, to stop it.

I didn’t.

His fingers brushed lightly against my jaw, not holding, not forcing, just… there.

Enough to make my breath catch.

Enough to make everything else fade just slightly.

“That,” he said quietly, “isn’t my fault.”

My pulse jumped.

“This is a bad idea.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not stopping it.”

“No.”

“Why.”

His gaze held mine.

Because you’re not.

The words weren’t spoken.

But they were there.

Clear.

Undeniable.

And for the first time since this started…

I didn’t argue.