Married For Show

​RUBY’S POV ​I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the girl looking back at me. The white wedding dress was a masterpiece—a cloud of silk and intricate lace that hugged my waist perfectly before cascading to the floor. Two stylists hovered around me, their fingers flying as they pinned the final strands of my ginger hair into place and adjusted the veil. ​Yep. Today is my wedding day. ​Usually, this is supposed to be a day of absolute joy. For most girls, it’s a fairy tale. But for me? It felt more like walking toward a beautifully decorated golden cage. I didn't even know the man I was about to swear my life to for the next five years. ​A lot of girls in New York would literally die to be in my shoes right now. And honestly, I probably would have been excited too, if we were marrying for love. But this wasn't a fairy tale. It was a business transaction. A contract marriage to Alexander Ray. ​He was a twenty-seven-year-old walking Greek god. Hey, I said I was sad, not blind. The man was breathtakingly attractive, which I guess was the only real upside to this whole mess. But based on the rumors, I bet he’s incredibly rude and will barely even deign to speak to me. Up until now, I’d only ever seen his face on towering billboards, business magazines, and TV screens. My very first time meeting him in person was going to be at the altar. ​The heavy oak door to the bridal suite clicked open, interrupting my thoughts. My dad stepped into the room, looking significantly more nervous than I was. ​"Hey, princess," he said, his voice a little thick with emotion. ​"Hi, daddy." I offered him a soft smile, stepping away from the stylists to press a gentle kiss against his cheek. ​My dad gave me a reassuring smile in return, then turned to the ladies helping me. "Could you give us a moment, please?" ​They nodded politely and slipped out of the room, leaving the two of us in a heavy, loaded silence. My dad let out a long, ragged sigh, his shoulders slumping under his tailored tuxedo. ​"I'm so sorry I put you in this situation, Ruby," he whispered, looking at me with eyes full of guilt. "I just... I want you to know that if he hurts you, or if he treats you terribly, you promise to tell me. Okay?" ​My smile widened, a lump forming in my throat. My dad really was the best. Growing up, he had showered me with so much love and affection that I barely even noticed how much I lacked my mum’s love. He was my anchor. ​"I promise, Dad," I said after a brief moment of thinking. I reached out, squeezing his hands. "It’s okay. It’s just for five years, right? Then we get back on our feet and continue our family business. We'll fix this." ​I forced a bright smile to comfort him, then looked around the empty suite. "Where are Mum and Chloe?" ​Dad let out a small, breathless chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "Probably dealing with the caterers and the photography. It’s the wedding of New York, you know." ​"Yes, it is," I murmured, taking a deep breath as the weight of reality settled over me. "It’s my wedding." ​Dad extended his elbow, and I looped my arm through his. With one last glance at the mirror, I let him walk me out of the room and toward the aisle. ALEX’S POV ​A loud, aggressive knock banged against my door, followed by someone shouting my name at the top of their lungs. ​Argh. I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow as the oak door burst open and James stormed into the room. ​"Bro, you have exactly thirty minutes until your wedding starts and you're still asleep?" James yelled, looking down at the bed in absolute disbelief. "With three naked women at your side?" ​I sat up, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of my lips as I ran a hand through my messy blonde hair. "I was celebrating my bachelor's night." ​"You celebrate it every night, Alex," James sighed, rolling his eyes. He turned to the girls, who were waking up and pulling the sheets over themselves. "Ladies, out. Now." ​I stood up, stretching my arms as the girls quickly gathered their things and scurried out of the penthouse. ​"You need to take this seriously, Alex. It’s your wedding," James said, his voice dropping into a rare serious tone. ​"I know, James," I groaned. I walked over to the closet and pulled out the custom Tom Ford tuxedo I was supposed to wear. It was a sharp, midnight-black suit with satin lapels, paired with a crisp white shirt and a silk bow tie. It looked elite, ruthless, and completely devoid of any real joy. Just like this marriage. ​I looked at myself in the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt before turning to face James. "Do you have the key for the new penthouse?" I asked, my voice dripping with heavy sarcasm. "The one my wife and I will be moving into after the wedding this evening?" ​James tossed a silver key ring across the room. I caught it effortlessly. "Are you even a little bit curious to see her?" James asked, shaking his head. "Your wife? Bro, you’re actually getting married. Damn. You're leaving me all alone in the single world." ​"It’s five years," I replied coldly, sliding my silver Rolex onto my wrist. "She will be my wife just for show." ​Thirty minutes later, the cynicism faded into a blur of blinding camera flashes and low whispers. ​I stood at the altar of the grand Manhattan church, my posture straight and my hands folded in front of me. I faced the massive crowd of New York’s elite, looking every bit the tough, unbothered billionaire they expected me to be. But internally, my chest felt tight. I was waiting for my wife-to-be to walk down the aisle. ​The heavy doors at the back of the church swung open, and the crowd went silent. ​There she was. ​Her striking ginger hair was pinned nicely up into a delicate updo, leaving her elegant neck exposed. The wedding dress was stunning—it hugged every curve of her body perfectly, tailoring down to her hips, with the sweetheart neckline showing just the right amount of cleavage without losing its classic, elegant edge. ​As she got closer, I stepped forward. Her dad gave her a tight, emotional squeeze before handing her over to me. I offered her my hand. ​The moment her fingers brushed against mine, a strange jolt ran up my spine. Her hands were incredibly soft and delicate, fitting almost too perfectly into my palm. ​Now, we were standing at the altar, facing each other. Up close, I could see her face clearly for the first time. Her eyes held so much raw emotion, shifting between nervousness and quiet defiance. They were a beautiful, piercing shade of green. ​She’s pretty, for sure, I thought, keeping my expression completely blank. That’s good, at least. I wouldn't want an ugly for-show wife. ​The priest cleared his throat, his deep voice echoing through the cathedral. "Alexander Ray, do you take Ruby Bells to be your wedded wife?" ​"I do," I said, my voice deep, firm, and echoing with authority. ​The priest turned to her. "And do you, Ruby Bells, take Alexander Ray to be your wedded husband?" ​"I do," she whispered. ​Hm. Nice voice. And just like that, I was a married man.