Author's POV

The boutique was buzzing with excitement. Media vans were parked outside, cameras were flashing, and reporters were swarming the entrance. Today was the big day—Zara and Zayden were going shopping for their wedding outfits. The media had been eagerly waiting for this moment, ready to capture the "perfect" couple in action.

But inside their shared penthouse suite, things were far from perfect.

“Why is it always about you, Zayden?!” Zara stormed into the living room, waving her phone in the air. “I just saw your latest interview! You said I was the lucky one in this marriage. Are you kidding me?”

Zayden, lounging casually on the sofa, didn’t even bother looking up from his magazine. “Well, I’m not wrong, am I? Fashion’s finest and Hollywood’s diva—seems like I’m the one upgrading your life, Zara.”

Zara’s jaw dropped. “Upgrading? You’re delusional! If anything, I am doing you a favor by even agreeing to this sham of a marriage. Do you know how many guys would kill to marry me?”

Zayden smirked, finally putting the magazine down. “Oh, I’m sure there are plenty of desperate souls out there. But none of them have the misfortune of being stuck with your unbearable attitude.”

“My unbearable attitude?!” Zara threw a cushion at him. “Look in the mirror, Mr. ‘I Think I’m God’s Gift to Fashion.’ Your ego doesn’t even fit in this apartment!”

Zayden ducked, letting the cushion sail past him, and shot back, “At least I have a personality! You? You just pretend to have one in front of the cameras!”

Zara's eyes narrowed. “Oh really? Coming from the guy who spent an hour fixing his hair for a radio interview?”

Zayden winced slightly but wasn’t ready to back down. “It’s called looking the part, sweetheart. Something you might want to learn if you plan on standing next to me on our wedding day.”

Zara picked up another cushion, launching it at him with renewed fury. “You are impossible!”

He dodged again, but this time his smirk disappeared. “And you’re impossible to please! No wonder you’re still single.”

Zara gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart as if deeply wounded. “Oh, the audacity! Coming from someone who can't even keep a relationship because all of your exes think you’re a control freak!”

“Control freak?!” Zayden shot up from the couch, his eyes blazing. “I’m not a control freak. I’m just good at getting what I want. Something you clearly haven’t mastered.”

“Oh please!” Zara shouted back, crossing her arms. “If you were so good at getting what you want, you wouldn’t need this marriage to save your pathetic reputation!”

There was a tense silence as both of them stood there, breathing heavily, glaring at each other. Then, at the exact same time, they both spoke:

“I don’t need this marriage!” “I don’t need this marriage!”

And that’s when things spiraled out of control.

Zara grabbed the remote from the coffee table and pointed it at him as if it were a weapon. “You know what, Zayden? Go marry yourself! I’m sure your ego would make a perfect partner.”

Zayden, unfazed, raised an eyebrow. “You really think you’re that important? If I wanted to marry myself, I’d at least pick someone with less drama.”

“Oh, and what would that look like? Marrying your reflection? Sounds like the perfect wedding for you.”

“Better than marrying a drama queen!”

“Better than marrying a control freak!”

As the insults flew back and forth, their voices rising louder and louder, they didn’t notice the ringing of Zara’s phone on the kitchen counter.

Finally, breathless and red-faced, Zara’s phone vibrated so violently that it clattered off the counter onto the floor. “Ugh! What now?” She stomped over to pick it up, checking the caller ID.

“It’s the boutique,” she said, holding up a finger to silence him, though Zayden was still muttering under his breath. “Hello?” she answered sweetly, her voice flipping from furious to professional in a heartbeat. “Oh, yes, we’re on our way! So excited for the fittings!”

She hung up and glared at Zayden. “Let’s go. The media is already outside.”

Zayden straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Time to play the loving couple.”

Zara rolled her eyes, grabbing her purse. “If you mess this up—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted with a sarcastic grin. “You’ll throw a shoe at me.”

They stepped outside the penthouse, and like clockwork, their expressions softened into radiant, media-friendly smiles. They walked side by side, their hands brushing against each other just enough for the cameras to capture.

As they approached the boutique, the flashes started immediately. “Zara! Zayden! Over here!” reporters shouted, eager for the perfect shot. Zara flashed her most dazzling smile, slipping her arm through Zayden’s, though she was practically digging her nails into his side.

Zayden leaned in, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “Careful, Zara. You wouldn’t want the world to think we’re anything less than madly in love.”

“Shut up,” she whispered through gritted teeth, smiling all the while for the cameras.

They stepped into the boutique, and the moment they were inside, Zara pulled her arm away as if she had been holding something toxic. “If you so much as breathe the wrong way during this fitting, I swear I’ll make sure your tux looks like it was designed in the dark.”

Zayden smirked, unphased. “And if you throw one more tantrum, I’ll tell the designer to make your dress out of burlap.”

“Touch my dress, and you’ll be wearing a garbage bag down the aisle,” she shot back, eyes narrowed.

The boutique staff, sensing the tension, quickly ushered them into separate dressing rooms. But the fight wasn’t over—it was just on pause, for the sake of the cameras.

After their dramatic entrance, Zayden and Zara were quickly ushered into the private fitting room, where rows of extravagant dresses and suits awaited them. Each garment was meticulously designed, shimmering under the boutique lights.

Zara sat in front of the vanity, fuming silently as a stylist worked on her hair. She glanced at Zayden in the reflection, who was leaning casually against the wall, scrolling through his phone with that same infuriating smirk.

They had just fought like children, and now they were expected to play dress-up like adults. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

“Okay, Zara,” the stylist chimed in, oblivious to the tension. “It’s time to try on your first dress!”

Zara stood up, flicking her hair over her shoulder dramatically. “Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, stepping into the fitting room. The first dress was stunning—sleek, elegant, and dripping in delicate crystals that sparkled under the light. She emerged from the room, her heart sinking as she realized she actually loved the gown. But she couldn’t let Zayden know that. No, not after everything.

Zayden, however, had other plans.

“Wow,” he said, his voice softer than she expected. He pushed away from the wall, his eyes scanning her figure in the dress. “You… you actually look good.”

Zara blinked in surprise. Had Zayden just complimented her? She was almost waiting for the punchline, but it didn’t come. Instead, he kept looking at her, and for once, it wasn’t with the usual snark or irritation.

Zara felt an unexpected warmth creep up her neck. “I know I look good,” she replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder, trying to keep her voice steady. “I always do.”

Zayden’s lips twitched into a grin, but it wasn’t his usual arrogant one. “Yeah, well, good thing, because you’re about to be plastered all over the media in that dress.”

She rolled her eyes, but inside, her heart was doing an odd little flip. What was happening here? This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She was supposed to feel annoyed, not… flustered.

Zayden turned away, walking over to the rack of suits. “Alright, your turn to judge,” he said with a smirk, grabbing a tuxedo from the hanger and heading into the changing room. “Try not to fall for me when you see me in this.”

Zara scoffed. “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

But as she waited for him to step out, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny flutter of curiosity. What if he actually did look good? What if—

The door opened, and Zayden stepped out.

She couldn’t help it. Her breath hitched. The tuxedo fit him perfectly—tailored to show off his broad shoulders and slim waist. The crisp black fabric contrasted with his dark hair, making him look effortlessly sharp. He fiddled with the cuffs, looking up at her through his lashes with a teasing grin. “So?”

Zara crossed her arms, trying to hide her reaction. “Meh. I’ve seen better.”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

“I’m not lying,” she said, but her voice wavered, betraying her. He was now standing right in front of her, his eyes holding hers in a way that made her feel suddenly self-conscious.

“Sure,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing, but there was something else beneath it. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually like this.”

“Like what?” Zara raised an eyebrow, trying to regain her composure. “The suit or you?”

He chuckled softly, the sound making her heart do another unwanted somersault. “Maybe both.”

Zara took a step back, trying to laugh it off. “Don’t flatter yourself, Drakon.”

Zayden leaned in slightly, his breath warm on her skin. “Too late.”

And just like that, the air between them shifted. What had been a battleground just moments ago was now charged with something different—something neither of them was ready to admit. Zara swallowed, suddenly aware of how close they were.

“Alright, lovebirds!” The stylist’s cheery voice cut through the tension, snapping both of them out of the moment. “Time for some photos! We need to capture these looks for the big day!”

Zara blinked, stepping away quickly. “Right, photos,” she mumbled, mentally shaking herself. This was ridiculous. There was no way she was falling for Zayden’s stupid charm. No way.

Zayden, ever the actor, extended his arm toward her. “Shall we?”

She hesitated for a split second before placing her hand in his. As soon as their fingers touched, there was an undeniable spark—one she tried to ignore. They walked over to the camera setup, posing like the perfect couple.

“Alright, lean in, Zara! Zayden, put your arm around her waist!” the photographer directed, his camera clicking furiously.

Zayden obliged, slipping his arm around Zara’s waist, pulling her closer than necessary. She stiffened at first, but then, to her own surprise, she relaxed into his side.

The photographer snapped away, oblivious to the confusion bubbling beneath their smiles.

As the shoot went on, Zara found herself laughing at something Zayden said under his breath. It was stupid—a snarky comment about how the photographer reminded him of their old school principal. But it made her laugh. And for a brief moment, everything felt… normal.

And then, without thinking, she looked up at him. Really looked at him. His face was softened by the lighting, his usually sharp features relaxed, his lips curved in a half-smile that wasn’t mocking, for once.

“What?” Zayden asked, catching her staring.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, turning away, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—there was more to this ridiculous arrangement than she had first thought.

As the photographer packed up, Zayden leaned down, whispering in her ear. “You’re not falling for me, are you, Zara?”

Zara snorted, rolling her eyes. “In your dreams, Zayden.”

But as they walked out of the boutique together, hand in hand for the cameras, Zara couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, those dreams weren’t so far off after all.

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The moment they walked through the estate doors, the weight of the contract they had signed just days ago seemed to press down on Zara’s chest. One year. That’s all they had. One year of this ridiculous farce before they could part ways and never look back.

Zayden, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. He had that same infuriating, laid-back expression as he greeted the wedding planner, discussing color schemes and floral arrangements as if they were planning a dream wedding—rather than a temporary one.

Zara, on the other hand, was counting down the minutes. She stood beside him, arms crossed, her mind already ticking through the months ahead.

“Zara, darling!” Zayden’s mother, Mrs. Drakon, rushed over, pulling Zara into a tight hug. “You’re glowing, absolutely glowing! This wedding will be perfect, I just know it!”

Zara gave a tight smile, trying not to feel guilty. Mrs. Drakon had no idea this marriage was already set to expire. She probably thought they were planning for forever, while Zara could barely think past the next twelve months.

As Zayden’s mother rushed off to meet with the florists, Zara turned to Zayden, lowering her voice. “We need to stop pretending this is going to be some grand love story.”

Zayden’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Why not? You signed up for this too.”

“I signed up for one year. One year, Zayden. And I can’t wait for it to be over.”

He chuckled, stepping closer so that no one could overhear. “And here I was thinking we’d actually make this fun.”

“Fun?” Zara snorted, folding her arms tighter. “You call this fun?”

“Of course. Think about it—we get to pretend we’re madly in love for twelve months. That’s one year of free dinners, extravagant events, and not to mention, you’ll get to flaunt being married to the best fashion designer in the country.”

“Oh, lucky me,” Zara muttered sarcastically. “I can’t wait to be stuck playing your trophy wife for a year.”

Zayden grinned, clearly unfazed by her hostility. “Exactly. Just think of all the fun we’ll have.”

Zara rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to walk out then and there. But as much as she hated to admit it, Zayden had a point. They had agreed to this mess together, and for now, they were in it. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

As they walked towards the fitting rooms again, Zara couldn’t help but feel the simmering tension between them. They might’ve agreed to act like a couple, but underneath the surface, nothing had changed. They were still enemies, bound by a contract, playing roles they both despised.

In the fitting room, Zara examined herself in the mirror. The wedding dress was undeniably beautiful, perfectly tailored to her figure, with delicate lace flowing down the sides. But instead of feeling like a bride, she felt like an actress in the role of a lifetime—a role she’d be forced to play for the next twelve months.

Zayden, now in his tuxedo, leaned casually against the wall, watching her with that infuriating smirk. “You know, we could’ve made this wedding real fun if you weren’t so serious about the whole ‘hating me’ thing.”

Zara shot him a look through the mirror. “Hating you isn’t a thing. It’s a fact.”

He pushed off the wall, walking over to her slowly. “You sure? Because it seems like you're getting a little too comfortable playing my bride.”

Zara turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Comfortable? You’re delusional if you think I’m enjoying this.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Zayden said with a teasing smile. “You looked pretty cozy in that dress. And don’t think I didn’t notice you laughing at my joke earlier.”

Zara felt her cheeks heat up, but she quickly covered it with a scoff. “That was a pity laugh. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Zayden took another step closer, his voice dropping to a soft, almost teasing whisper. “Oh, I’m not flattering myself, Zara. I’m just wondering if, maybe, you’re starting to enjoy this a little more than you thought.”

Zara’s breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his proximity. For a moment, the room felt smaller, the air thicker with the unspoken tension between them. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the teasing glint in his eyes, and for a brief second, she forgot all about the contract. Forgot about the one-year timer ticking away.

Then, with a quick shake of her head, she snapped back to reality.

“Don’t mistake this for anything more than what it is, Zayden. This is a business deal. Nothing more.” Her voice was firm, but even she could hear the slight waver in it.

Zayden’s smile softened, but his eyes remained locked on hers. “One year is a long time, Zara. You might find things aren’t as black and white as you think.”

She swallowed, fighting to keep her composure. “We’ll see about that.”

Zayden chuckled again, stepping back and letting her breathe. “You keep telling yourself that. But don’t be surprised when you’re the one who doesn’t want this year to end.”

Zara scoffed, rolling her eyes and turning away, but her heart was still racing. This was supposed to be simple—twelve months of pretending, followed by a clean break. No attachments. No emotions.

Zara's mind whirled, and she hated how Zayden could get under her skin so effortlessly. She turned back to the mirror, adjusting her dress, but her thoughts kept drifting to his words. One year. She could handle that, right?

Before she could process further, Zayden moved closer again, his reflection appearing behind her in the mirror. His tall figure towered over hers, and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "So, tell me, Zara. What happens when you realize you’re enjoying being Mrs. Drakon a little too much?”

Zara snorted, focusing on the lace of her dress, smoothing it down to avoid looking at him directly. “You really need to stop flattering yourself. Believe me, one year with you will feel like a prison sentence.”

Zayden laughed lowly, stepping even closer. She could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. “A prison, huh? Then why do you look like you're ready to run your hands all over this suit?”

Zara’s eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. She whipped around to face him, her cheeks flushing, but she was quick to cover up her embarrassment with a glare. “Please, I wouldn’t touch you if my life depended on it.”

Zayden leaned in, his face dangerously close to hers, and for a split second, she thought he might actually kiss her. His voice dropped to a soft murmur. “You sure about that?”

The air between them sizzled with tension, and Zara could feel her pulse quickening. This wasn’t part of the plan—none of this was. She wasn’t supposed to let him get to her. But standing this close to him, feeling the weight of his presence, she couldn’t deny that something was shifting. Something she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Zayden,” she whispered, her voice betraying her resolve.

His smirk deepened, his lips barely an inch from hers. “Yes, darling?”

She clenched her fists, fighting the magnetic pull between them. “Back off.”

Zayden’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he reached for her hand, gently wrapping his fingers around hers. “You know, I think you protest too much. It’s okay to admit that you’re curious.”

Zara’s breath hitched as his touch sent a jolt through her, but she couldn’t let him win. She pulled her hand away, crossing her arms defensively. “Curious? Please. The only thing I’m curious about is how long it’ll take for you to realize you’re just a temporary inconvenience in my life.”

Zayden laughed again, this time with a hint of genuine amusement. “Temporary, sure. But you might find that one year is more than enough time to change your mind.”

Zara rolled her eyes and turned away, trying to hide the flush creeping up her neck. “Keep dreaming.”

He stepped back, finally giving her some space, though the heat between them still lingered. “Oh, trust me, I am. And in those dreams, you’re not fighting me this hard.”

Zara grabbed a nearby veil and threw it at him. “Get out.”

Zayden caught the veil mid-air, laughing as he walked backward toward the door. “As you wish, Mrs. Drakon-to-be.”

Zara glared after him as he left the room, the door swinging shut behind him. Her heart was still racing, her pulse pounding in her ears. She shook her head, trying to push away the lingering heat between them.

“Get a grip, Zara,” she muttered to herself, turning back to the mirror. She was an actress. She could handle this. She could handle Zayden.

But as she stared at her reflection, the thought nagged at her—maybe Zayden was right. Maybe this wouldn’t be as black and white as she wanted it to be.

And that terrified her.

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Okay so this is it for today.

I hope you liked the chapter.

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Thank you!