I woke up feeling weird... okay. No tightness in my chest, no guilt or confusion clawing at my ribs, just warmth. My body didn’t feel like a battlefield for once, and considering how Ives and I had gone at it last night, that was saying something. There was movement downstairs, soft, rhythmic, accompanied by a low hum. I followed it.
There he was… in the kitchen. Ives Mercer. Billionaire. Ice king. Alleged emotionless workaholic. Flipping pancakes. In grey slacks and a shirt barely buttoned, two buttons undone, sleeves rolled like some corporate romance cover model. The whole vibe screamed CEO who cooks post-smash like it’s foreplay for commitment.
“You’re humming,” I said, crossing my arms by the doorway.
He didn’t even look up. “You’re observant.”
“You’re suspicious.”
“You’re dramatic.” He poured coffee into a mug and slid it across the counter like we were in a routine. Like it was normal. Like we were normal. I stared at the cup for a second too long.
I raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of saying you want to cuddle next?”
His eyes finally lifted, calm and unreadable. “God, no.”
But his mouth curved just slightly. A smirk. Like he enjoyed the banter. And I… I smiled back. Like an idiot. The day moved surprisingly smooth after that. The office didn’t feel like a stage I was faking confidence on, I didn’t shrink when the doors closed behind me in that glass conference room. I held my own, actually spoke during the strategy sync.
And then there was the finance guy, Randall. Normally, he looked at me like I spelled “profit margin” with an F. But today? I broke down a proposal, restructured the cost forecast, and he nodded. Nodded. Like I was finally more than Mercer’s accessory. By 5:30, I powered down and left early. Because tonight? There was a party. One of those launch parties. Press, influencers, clients, fake laughter echoing in overpriced venues.
I went home, showered, and pulled out the dress. The one I didn’t dare wear until I felt like I’d earned the moment. It was black, sleek, and sharp as hell. No lace or glitter. Just power stitched in silk. I didn’t wear it to impress. I wore it to say: This is who you underestimated.
When I walked out of the room, Ives was already waiting by the door. Jacket in one hand. Watch on his wrist. His gaze lifted, and for a second, he didn’t move. And then, without a word, he extended his arm. Not like a man doing a favor. But like someone who’d been waiting for me all along. I looped my arm through his. He didn’t smile. But his fingers grazed mine, just once. And I felt it. That same weird warmth from earlier. Only this time, it burned deeper.
The launch party was full Mercer circus. Photographers. Overdressed billionaires. People who shook hands like they were making deals with God. We worked the room effortlessly. I laughed at something dumb. He whispered something sarcastic into my hair. It wasn’t an act anymore. Well for me, I don’t know for him. But all I know is, it was easier to act now.
“I think we’re getting too good at this,” I whispered while we posed for a photo.
He didn’t respond right away. So I leaned in, brushing his jaw with my lips and whispered, “You should do something about your fiancée being too hot tonight. Kind of suspicious for a fake relationship, don’t you think?”
His body went still. Just for a second. No reply. No smirk. He just glanced down at me like he was trying not to react. I blinked. “Too far?” Shit. I just want to tease him but I think it’s too much. Still nothing.
“Hello, darling.” I looked up where the voice was coming from. I scoffed when I saw Ava, dressed like money. Voice all breathy and smug like she thought she was the main plot twist. She smiled sweetly at Ives, not even a flicker of acknowledgment in my direction.
“Darling,” Ava purred, brushing a manicured hand against his arm like it was hers to touch. “Didn’t expect to see both of you here. How refreshing.”
I raised a brow. Both of us? She didn’t even blink in my direction. Not a glance, not a side-eye, just… air. Ives didn’t move or speak, but his jaw ticked. Ives’s fingers slid around my waist. Not soft, but possessive, like he was done playing.
“Excuse us,” he said flatly, cutting the air between all of us.
And just like that, we walked away. But not before I saw the flicker in Ava’s eyes, that flash of venom she couldn’t fully hide. Because tonight? I wasn’t some secretary in last season’s heels. I was the woman on Ives Mercer’s arm, and she hated that.
I smirked while thinking about what happened earlier. About how Ives ignored Eva but now, I shifted my focus on where Ives is taking me. We barely turned the corner when Ives gripped my wrist and pulled me down a side hallway. It was darker there, quieter, somewhere no one could see.
“Ives, what the-?” Before I finished, he slammed his mouth on mine. No warning, with his tongue and teeth like he couldn’t help himself. He groaned low, like he was holding back. His hand grabbed the back of my neck tight, my back hit the wall hard. Then he pulled back, staring at me hot and intense.
“Yes. I must do something for you. You’re so hot.”