"Who the hell are you, and why are you wearing my ring?"
The words came out before I could stop them, my voice shaky but sharp. My head was pounding, my vision blurry, and the taste of something sweet—champagne?—lingered on my tongue. I tightened my grip on the sheet covering me and glared at the man sitting across the room.
He didn't look alarmed, which annoyed me even more. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, like this was a perfectly normal morning. Like he belonged here.
"You don't remember last night?" he asked, his tone calm but teasing.
"Obviously not," I snapped. My gaze darted around the room—a sleek, modern penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows and furniture that screamed money. I didn't remember how I got here, and I definitely didn't remember him.
"Let me guess," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You're some guy I met at a party, and now you think this is your chance to play house?"
He raised an eyebrow, setting his coffee down on the glass table. "Interesting theory, but no. We're married."
I froze. My fingers dug into the sheet, and I felt my stomach flip. "Excuse me?"
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You heard me. We got married last night. There's a certificate in the other room if you want proof."
Married? To him? I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. He looked... normal enough. Handsome, even. Tousled dark hair, sharp jawline, and eyes that seemed to be studying me like I was some kind of puzzle. But none of that explained how I'd ended up in this situation.
"I don't even know your name," I said finally, my voice low.
He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made me instantly suspicious. "Liam Sterling. Your husband."
"Liam Sterling," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. It didn't ring any bells. "This is insane. I don't just wake up married to strangers."
"You did last night."
My head throbbed as I tried to piece together the blurry fragments of memory. There was a party. Lots of lights, music, and champagne. I remembered laughing with someone, but the rest was a fog.
"I need to see that certificate," I said, throwing the sheet off and standing up. My legs wobbled, and I grabbed the edge of the bed to steady myself.
Liam didn't move to help me, which I appreciated. I didn't need some strange man pretending to be my knight in shining armor.
"It's on the dresser," he said, gesturing toward the far wall.
I stumbled over to the dresser and picked up the piece of paper sitting on top. Sure enough, there it was: a marriage certificate with my name and his, dated last night. My signature was right there, clear as day.
"This has to be fake," I muttered, shaking my head.
"It's not."
I turned to glare at him. "Why would I marry you? I don't even know you."
"You were pretty enthusiastic about it last night," he said, his tone annoyingly smug.
My face burned. "That doesn't sound like me."
"Maybe you had a little too much to drink."
"Or maybe you drugged me," I shot back.
His expression hardened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of anger in his eyes. "I didn't drug you, Evelyn."
Hearing my name from his lips sent a chill down my spine. "How do you know my name?"
He stood up, towering over me but keeping his distance. "Because you told me. Look, I get that this is a shock, but it happened. We're married, and now we have to deal with it."
I laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. "Deal with it? No, I'll tell you what's going to happen. We're going to get this annulled, and I'm going to forget this ever happened."
He crossed his arms over his chest, looking entirely too calm. "An annulment isn't that simple."
"Why not?"
"Because we didn't just get married," he said, his voice dropping. "We made a deal."
My stomach sank. "What kind of deal?"
"You don't remember that either?" He shook his head, almost like he felt sorry for me. "You agreed to stay married to me for six months. No questions, no backing out."
"That's ridiculous."
"It's in writing," he said, nodding toward the drawer beneath the dresser.
I yanked it open and found another document—a contract, this time. My signature was there too, bold and confident, like I'd known exactly what I was doing.
"What the hell is this?" I whispered, my hands trembling as I read the terms.
"You needed money," Liam said, his voice softer now. "And I needed a wife. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement."
I stared at him, my mind racing. None of this made sense. Why would I agree to something so insane? And who was this man, really?
"You're lying," I said, my voice barely audible.
"I'm not."
I dropped the contract on the floor and turned to face him. "Then explain this. If you're so broke, why are we in a penthouse? Why do you look like you just stepped out of a magazine?"
He hesitated, and for a moment, I thought he might actually tell me the truth. But then he smiled again, that same infuriating smile that made me want to throw something at him.
"Let's just say I have connections," he said vaguely.
"Connections," I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Right. And I'm supposed to just believe that?"
"You don't have to believe anything," he said, shrugging. "But you signed the contract, Evelyn. Whether you remember it or not, you're stuck with me."
My head was spinning, and the pounding behind my eyes was getting worse. I needed air, space, something to clear my mind.
"I need to go," I said, brushing past him toward the door.
"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice firm.
I froze, turning to glare at him. "Excuse me?"
"You agreed to this," he said, his tone steady. "You can leave if you want, but don't think for a second that you can just walk away from the deal."
I wanted to argue, to scream, to throw something at his stupid, smug face. But instead, I walked back to the bed and sat down, my hands shaking in my lap.
"Why me?" I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was softer than I expected. "Because you're exactly what I needed."
His words sent a chill down my spine, and for the first time, I realized just how deep I might be in.
I brought out my phone to check the time
"Shoot,I'm late"