The CEO's Reluctant Bride

Ava woke to the faint glow of morning light filtering through her curtains. Her mind replayed the night before—the dinner, Adrian's lingering gaze, the way his fingers had gently wrapped around her wrist. It unsettled her... how natural it felt.

This is a contract marriage, she reminded herself, stretching out on the bed. Don't overthink it.

Her phone buzzed. Board meeting at 10. Be prepared. She sighed. No time for morning musings. Work demanded her attention. Pulling herself out of bed, she dressed in a sleek navy suit—professional armor against corporate wolves.

Downstairs, she found Adrian in her kitchen, sleeves rolled up, tie loose around his neck. He was flipping pancakes. Pancakes.

She blinked. "Am I... dreaming?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Good morning to you too."

"You cook?" Her tone teetered between amusement and disbelief.

"I'm full of surprises." He plated the pancakes with an infuriating grin. "Figured you could use a decent breakfast before facing the board."

She eyed the plate skeptically. "Is this some CEO trick? Butter me up with carbs before corporate warfare?"

"Eat," he ordered gently. "You'll thank me later."

Against her better judgment, she sat. And took a bite. Her eyes widened. Damn. "Okay, I hate that this is good."

"Told you."

Breakfast passed with playful banter and fleeting glances that lingered just a little too long. When they left for the office, the air between them was charged—unspoken things hovering in the spaces between words.

At the building, Ava straightened her shoulders. The boardroom loomed ahead. Adrian paused before they entered, leaning close. "Remember—don't let them rattle you. You've got this."

Her pulse jumped. Why does he say things like that?

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Board members exchanged pointed glances, murmurs filling the room until Mr. Clarkson cleared his throat.

"Miss Carter," he began, "we have concerns regarding the company's current direction."

Ava's gaze hardened. "I'm open to hearing suggestions. Constructive ones."

A few members exchanged skeptical looks. "Perhaps if you weren't so defensive—"

"Perhaps if you weren't so intent on undermining me," she shot back.

Adrian's voice cut through smoothly. "Let's keep this productive." His tone held an edge—cool, commanding. The room shifted, deference settling over the board. Ava couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he commanded respect.

The meeting dragged—questions, criticisms, thinly veiled jabs—but she held her ground. By the end, exhaustion tugged at her edges, but pride flared beneath it. She hadn't crumbled.

Outside, she exhaled. "Well... that was a delight."

Adrian handed her a water bottle. "You handled it."

"With the grace of a wrecking ball," she muttered.

He smirked. "Sometimes wrecking balls are necessary."

Later, as they rode back together, silence stretched comfortably. Ava glanced at him. "Why are you... like this?"

He quirked a brow. "Like what?"

"Supportive. I didn't expect you to actually care."

"I didn't expect you to be so stubborn," he shot back, eyes gleaming.

A beat of quiet. Then

"Thanks," she said softly.

"Anytime."

And that's the problem, she thought. It's starting to feel too easy.