The café was filled with soft jazz and the low hum of conversation. Sunlight poured through the windows, golden rays casting on the table where you and Kilian sat. Across the street, a group of paparazzi discreetly snapped photos, their camera flashing through the glass. Killian leaned back in his chair, trying to force a smile for the cameras, but the tension between him and his fake date was thick enough to cut through.

He leaned in, his voice low but laced with sarcasm. "So, what're we supposed to talk about? Your favorite color? Or should I just make up a tragic backstory to sell the romance?"

You shot him a sharp look, your posture perfect as you sipped your coffee. "I don't care what you talk about, as long as you look like you're enjoying it. Smile more. You look like someone's forcing you to eat sand."

He gritted his teeth, "I'm smiling," he said flatly, though his expression didn't change. "This is me smiling."

The low banter continued, only until the flashing of cameras grew brighter, signaling that the paparazzi was closing in to the window. Killian's expression changed in an instant, a practiced smile appearing as the charming, untouchable Killian Aspen. He reached across the table, gently taking your hand in his. "Smile, darling. Remember, you're the love of my life."