He reaches for you, but this time it’s different.

Not just your hand—his fingers settle lightly at your waist, adjusting your position by an inch. It’s such a small movement, but it sends a strange awareness through you.

“Stand like this,” he says. “If anyone’s watching, distance invites questions.”

You nod again, though your pulse has picked up for no good reason.

His hand lingers a second longer than necessary.

Then he lets go.

Just like that, the moment is over.

All this is fake after all.

Except for his wealth that he wants to protect.

So he arranged you.

His fake wife.