Chapter 6

The golden hues of sunset faded into twilight, draping the world in shadows.

The master bedroom at the Grayson estate was spacious, its king-sized bed dominating the center. After Evelyn was escorted inside, Nathaniel handed her off to the waiting maids with a curt command.

"Prepare her."

They descended upon her like a well-trained unit—washing her face, applying light makeup, then dressing her in an elegant white wedding gown. The delicate veil obscured her vision, leaving only blurred shapes in her periphery. When she glanced down, she caught sight of his polished leather shoes mere inches from her own.

His voice, deep and resonant, cut through the silence. "Play along, and I won't harm you."

Beneath the calm delivery lay an unspoken threat.

Evelyn clenched her jaw. There was no escaping this man—not when he'd tracked her down so effortlessly.

"Fine," she relented. "But I want a timeline. How long do you expect this charade to last? Once it's over, we go our separate ways."

Nathaniel had no interest in her beyond necessity. "Three months."

Just enough time for his grandfather to recover post-surgery.

"Deal." Three months was manageable. She reached for his hand without hesitation. "Let's go, Mr. Grayson. Time to make this official."

He stiffened slightly at her touch. Oddly, the contact didn't repulse him as it usually would with strangers. Her fingers were surprisingly soft.

The Graysons had orchestrated a lavish yet traditional ceremony. Evelyn walked beside Nathaniel through the banquet hall, the ceremony brief but suffocatingly formal. Afterward, she was ushered into a room dripping with newlywed ambiance.

When Nathaniel entered, he found her perched stiffly on the bed's edge, veil still in place—a picture-perfect blushing bride awaiting her groom.

A scoff escaped him. "Drop the act. We're alone now."

She didn't move.

Frowning, he strode forward and lifted the veil himself.

Beneath the warm lighting, her face was serene in sleep—long lashes brushing porcelain cheeks, lips slightly parted with a trail of drool at the corner. She even licked them absently.

Had she really fallen asleep sitting up?

The motion of the veil disturbed her balance. Her head lolled, body tipping sideways—

Nathaniel caught her instinctively before she hit the floor.

She frowned but didn't wake.

For the first time, he saw her bare-faced. No garish makeup, just delicate features that stirred something unexpected in his chest.

Then her eyes flew open.

The unfamiliar proximity jolted her awake. She shoved against his chest, scrambling back. "What the hell? Hands off! This marriage is fake!"

His jaw tightened. "I never said it wasn't."

"You promised three months!"

"I said it ends in three months." His smirk was razor-sharp. "I never said nothing would happen between now and then."

He caught her chin, calloused fingers exerting deliberate pressure.

Evelyn jerked her head away. "Men should keep their word!"

"Begging might improve my mood," he mused, leaning closer until their breaths mingled. Then, with a derisive snort, he released her. "Relax. You're not my type."

She exhaled sharply. "Good. Overbearing old men aren't mine either."

His eye twitched. Old?

Evelyn poked his chest. "Move. I need to shower."

He didn't budge, forcing her to sidestep him with a huff.

The bathroom lock clicked behind her.

Steam curled around Evelyn as she stepped from the shower, realization dawning—she'd forgotten clean clothes.

Peeking out, she found Nathaniel still on the sofa, phone in hand.

"My clothes," she demanded.

He didn't look up. "Trashed."

"Then get me something else!"

His gaze lifted, glacial. "Ask properly."

"Like hell." She slammed the door.

The wedding dress it was.

A knock interrupted her struggle with the heavy fabric. She cracked the door—Nathaniel stood there, holding men's pajamas.

The scent of her shampoo wafted between them. His gaze snagged on her towel-clad frame, damp hair clinging to collarbones.

His throat moved as he extended the clothes.

"Thanks," she muttered, snatching them.

"For nothing!" The door crashed shut.

Nathaniel barely yanked his hand back in time. Ungrateful brat.

The pajamas swallowed her whole—sleeves dangling past her fingertips, waistband loose enough to risk indecency.

Evelyn glared at her reflection. Three months of this? She'd survive—but barely.