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Kiki’s gaze flicks over him before snapping to my face, a slow grin spreading across her lips. “I can see why you look so happy.”
“Kiki!”
She dissolves into laughter. “I’m just saying!”
My face burns as Vance’s mouth curves into the faintest hint of a smile. He hands me a mug of coffee, exactly how I like it—two sugars and a splash of cream.
“Coffee, Kierra?”
“Please.” She beams, shaking her nearly empty cup at him.
“Give me a second to grab a shirt. You were a little earlier than expected.” Before he leaves, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. It’s such a natural, effortless gesture that, for half a second, I almost forget we’re performing.
Faking our relationship for Kiki has become second nature after a month of practiced smiles, carefully edited stories, and convincing lies whenever she asks how married life is going. For four weeks, I’ve played the part of the devoted wife so seamlessly that sometimes I almost forget it’s an act—that I’m pretending Vance is the husband I chose.
When he returns, he’s dressed in a dark T-shirt and jeans, looking considerably more appropriate for company. He gestures toward the kitchen. “Come. Breakfast is waiting.”
Kiki follows, and I trail behind them.
The kitchen island is already covered with enough food to feed a small army. A spread of pastries sits in an open delivery box beside bowls overflowing with fresh fruit.
She looks from the food to Vance, then back at me. “Do you guys eat like this every morning?”
I laugh softly. “Absolutely not.”
Vance pulls out a chair for me and then one for her. “Only when we have company.”
Kiki grins. “Well, I need to visit more often.”
He sits next to me, his hand finding my thigh under the table, his thumb tracing patterns through the soft cotton of my dress.
“So,” she says, spreading cream cheese on a bagel. “How’s married life? I feel like I haven’t gotten the scoop. You guys got married so fast, and then I’ve been swamped with school, and…” She trails off, her expression softening. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Soph.”
“I’m fine,” I respond quickly. Too quickly. “We’re fine. Vance is… He’s good to me, Kiki.”
“Very good to her,” Vance adds, his hand sliding higher on my thigh, before giving a reminding, possessive squeeze. “Sophia is everything I hoped she would be. And more.”
Kiki smiles, but there’s something assessing in her gaze. “You guys seem… different from what I expected.”
Vance raises an eyebrow. “Different how?”
“I don’t know.” She gestures between us, searching for the right words. “You two look like you’ve been married for years.” She pauses, then smirks. “In a good way.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. If only she knew this wasn’t a whirlwind romance, but a calculated capture. That the man sitting beside me, casually serving her breakfast, is the same man who threatened to destroy her future if I refused to become his wife.
Vance’s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly against my thigh. “Some people spend years looking for what Sophia and I found,” he says smoothly. “When you know someone is right for you, there’s no reason to waste time pretending.”
“That’s sweet.” Kiki’s expression softens. “I was worried, you know. When you told me you were getting married, Soph. It seemed so fast. I thought maybe…”
“Maybe?” I prompt.
She suddenly looks embarrassed. “I thought you were pregnant.”
“Not yet,” Vance responds with a smirk before I get the chance to open my mouth.
My eyes snap toward him as Kiki’s face lights up. “Wait. You guys—”
“Vance really wants a few kids,” I say, forcing a smile. “We figured we should get started.”
