Eva stormed out of the study, muttering as she went. "What the hell is wrong with him?
Gosh, he gives me the creeps," she said, shaking her shoulders dramatically as if trying to rid herself of the tension.
She was still grumbling under her breath when she spotted a group of maids approaching her.
Their heads were slightly bowed, and their nervous glances only irritated her further.
"What now?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Why are you all looking at me like that? Spit it out."
Katie, the maid in front, hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Ma'am, the fitter has arrived.
They've brought several outfits for the wedding photographs, and they're waiting for you to choose."
Eva blinked, her annoyance momentarily replaced by confusion. "Wedding outfits? As in... now?"
"Yes, ma'am," Katie said quickly, avoiding eye contact. "We've set everything up for you."
Eva sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Perfect. Just perfect. Lead the way before I change my mind."
The maids exchanged glances and motioned for her to follow. As they walked down the hall, Eva muttered to herself.
Great. Fake marriage, awkward photos, and now I have to play dress-up. What's next?
They led her into a brightly lit room where several racks of luxurious gowns and outfits were neatly arranged. Eva's eyes widened slightly at the sight.
"Are all of these necessary?" she asked, gesturing toward the overwhelming number of options.
The head seamstress, a no-nonsense woman with a tape measure draped around her neck, stepped forward. "Yes, ma'am.
You'll try them all to determine the best fit for the photographs. Now, if you'll step over here, we'll begin."
Eva groaned but complied, stepping b,acy screen. The maids and seamstresses worked quickly, helping her in and out of various outfits.
"This one's too tight," Eva complained, wriggling out of a dress.
"And this one?" the seamstress asked, holding up a sleek ivory gown with intricate beading.
Eva stepped into it reluctantly, examining herself in the mirror. It was beautiful, no doubt, but something about it felt... off.
"Not this one either," she said finally. "It's too much."
After several more tries, they found a simpler dress—an elegant ivory sheath with delicate lace accents.
Eva ran her hands down the fabric and nodded.
"This one," she said decisively.
The seamstress clapped her hands. "Excellent choice, ma'am. Now, we'll finalize the fittings and prepare you for the photographs."
Eva sighed, glancing around the room. "Wait... where's Lucian?"
As if summoned by her words, the door opened, and Lucian walked in. He was dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit, his hair neatly styled.
He barely glanced at her as he entered, his attention focused on his tablet.
Eva rolled her eyes. "Of course the perfect entrance."
The seamstress quickly directed them toward a small setup with floral arrangements and a velvet chair. "Alright, Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux, if you'll take your positions, we can begin the photoshoot."
Lucian frowned. "This is unnecessary."
The photographer, a cheerful man with a camera slung around his neck, clapped his hands.
"Come now, sir! Just a few pictures for posterity. Let's start with something simple. Mr. Devereaux, stand closer to your wife, please."
Lucian's jaw tightened. "No."
Eva sighed. "You're impossible." She stepped closer to him, ignoring his glare.
The photographer tried again. "Perhaps you could hold her hand? Or place an arm around her waist?"
Lucian shot him a cold look. "Not happening."
Eva turned to the photographer and gave him a tight smile. "It's fine. I'll handle this."
Before Lucian could protest, Eva grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. She leaned up on her toes and pressed a quick peck to his cheek.
The camera clicked, capturing the moment perfectly.
Lucian froze, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Saving our wedding photos from looking like a disaster," Eva replied with a smirk.
Eva stole a glance at Lucian, noticing the slight pink tinge dusting his ears. She bit back a laugh.
But he did not respond instead he straightened his tie, his expression unreadable, and walked out of the room without another word.
Eva watched him go, her cheeks heating up as she realized what she'd just done. She turned to the photographer, who gave her a thumbs-up.
"That was perfect," he said with a grin.
Eva winked at him. "Glad someone appreciates my efforts."
As the maids began tidying up, Eva ran a hand through her hair and sighed.
What the hell is wrong with me? she thought, biting her lip to suppress a smile.
As Eva bit her lip, trying to suppress the lingering blush from earlier, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. She blinked rapidly, her vision blurring slightly.
What the hell? she thought, steadying herself against the nearest wall.
The room seemed to spin, and her knees felt weak. Desperately, she scanned the room for a place to sit.
One of the maids noticed her unsteady posture and hurried to her side. "Ma'am, are you alright?" the maid asked, her voice filled with concern.
"I'm fine," Eva muttered, though her shaky voice betrayed her.
Without waiting for a response, the maid called out, "Bring a chair! Quickly!"
Another maid rushed forward, carrying a cushioned chair. Eva barely managed to sink into it before her legs gave way.
"Thank you," she whispered, her hand pressing against her temple as if trying to will away the dizziness.
An older woman, perhaps one of the senior maids, approached with a glass of water. "Here, drink this," she said kindly, holding the glass to Eva's trembling hands.
Eva took a small sip, her mind racing. She knew exactly why this was happening.
The elder maid crouched beside her, studying her pale face. "Are you sure you're alright, ma'am? Should we call for the doctor?"
Eva shook her head quickly. "No. I just... I think I stood for too long. I'll be fine in a minute."
The maid hesitated but nodded, stepping back to give her space.
Eva let out a long breath, pressing her hands against her knees to ground herself. In the quiet that followed, her thoughts spiraled.
A fake marriage. A fake wedding picture. And now I'm pregnant with a man's child—a man who doesn't even know it.
She laughed bitterly under her breath. "Just great. Perfect," she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
The maids exchanged glances but wisely stayed silent.