From Lies to Love: My Rival Husband

By the time Friday rolled around, I'd convinced myself that I was ready. I had rehearsed our story, picked out the perfect "effortlessly in love" outfit, and reminded myself that this was just business.

Then Liam pulled up in a black Mercedes, stepped out in a dark suit that looked like it had been stitched by angels, and I nearly forgot how to breathe.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Wolfe," he said with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

The drive to my family's lake house was two hours of pointed small talk. We ran through our backstory met at a tech conference, bonded over our shared hatred for terrible coffee, started dating six months ago. He'd "proposed" last month over dinner.

"And why exactly did I propose?" Liam asked, glancing at me.

"Because you couldn't imagine your life without me," I said sweetly.

His mouth curved into a grin. "Good answer."

When we finally turned into the long gravel driveway, I could already see the crowd gathered on the porch. My mother was waving like a ship spotting land. My father was polishing his glasses his tell when he was preparing to evaluate someone.

"This is going to be fun," Liam murmured, and I wasn't sure if he meant for me or for him.

The moment we stepped out of the car, Mom rushed over and hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe. Then she turned to Liam, eyes sparkling. "So this is the man who's stolen our Mia's heart."

Liam turned on the charm like flipping a switch. "It's an honor, Mrs. Cross. I've heard so much about you." He took her hand and kissed it.

Her cheeks flushed. My mother. Flushed.

Dad shook his hand firmly, sizing him up. "What do you do, son?"

"I run WolfeTech," Liam said with the perfect mix of humility and confidence. "But more importantly, I try to make Mia laugh at least once a day."

I almost choked. Where had that come from?

Inside, the interrogation began. Aunt Carol wanted to know when the wedding was. My cousin Julia asked if Liam had any single friends. Grandma quizzed him about his favorite pies. And through it all, Liam was smooth, attentive, and annoyingly convincing.

At one point, Mom pulled me into the kitchen under the pretense of "helping with the salad."

"He's perfect," she whispered.

I forced a smile. "I know."

Back in the living room, I caught Liam talking to my father, heads bent over some fishing magazine like old friends. When his eyes found mine across the room, he gave me a look a subtle, questioning tilt of his head that somehow felt like we were the only two people there.

Later, during dinner, my cousin brought out an ancient family tradition: the Newlywed Quiz.

"Oh, we're not " I started, but Liam was already leaning in. "We're game."

They asked him my favorite movie. He said The Princess Bride. Correct. Favorite ice cream? Mint chocolate chip. Correct again. The story of our first kiss? He made it up on the spot something about rain and streetlights and told it so well that even I almost believed it.

By the end of the night, my cheeks hurt from smiling and my pulse was doing strange things every time Liam touched my hand under the table.

It was supposed to be an act. So why did it feel so real?

The guest room at the lake house had one bed.

"One bed?" I hissed as soon as the door clicked shut behind us.

Liam glanced around like he was appraising a hotel suite. "Looks comfortable enough."

"We can't"

"We're supposed to be engaged, Mia. What did you think your family would do, give us bunk beds?" He loosened his tie and tossed his suit jacket onto the chair, completely unfazed.

I paced. "We'll make a pillow wall."

He grinned, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs. "By all means. Build your fortress. Just don't hog the blankets."

I was halfway through my pillow barricade when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Liam called before I could stop him.

It was my mother, holding two mugs of tea. Her eyes flicked from the bed to Liam's bare forearms and back to me. "I thought you two could use something warm before bed."

"Thanks, Mom," I said quickly, taking the mugs and forcing a smile.

When she left, Liam sat on the edge of the bed, sipping his tea like he hadn't just been caught in the most suggestive scene possible. "You're overthinking this."

"I'm protecting the plan."

His gaze softened just a flicker, quickly masked by that infuriating smirk. "You really think I'm going to blow our cover?"

"I think you like pushing buttons."

"Only yours."

The tension hung there, thick and electric. I climbed into my half of the bed, turning my back to him, determined to focus on sleep.

I'd almost succeeded when I felt the mattress shift. Liam's voice was low, close. "You talk in your sleep, Cross?"

"No." My voice was muffled by the pillow.

"Good. Wouldn't want you revealing our secrets."

I rolled over to glare at him and that's when it happened.

Too close. Too much heat between us. His hand was braced on the pillow next to my head, his eyes darker in the lamplight. My breath caught, and for a split second, I forgot every rule we'd agreed on.

He looked at my mouth, and I swear he almost ,almost closed the gap.

Then he pulled back, smirking again. "Goodnight, fiancée."

I lay there in the dark long after his breathing evened out, wondering if I was the only one replaying that almost-kiss.

By Sunday afternoon, I was running on caffeine and adrenaline. The family reunion had been a whirlwind of nosy questions, "accidental" matchmaking attempts from relatives who hadn't gotten the memo I was already taken, and one too many rounds of the Newlywed Quiz.

I should have been relieved it was over. Instead, I felt an odd twinge in my chest as I stood on the porch, watching my parents hug Liam like he was already part of the family.

"Don't be a stranger," Mom said, patting his arm. "And we'll see you both at the wedding, of course."

I froze. "The wedding?"

Mom smiled brightly, like she'd just told me the weather was nice. "You two clearly aren't wasting time. Aunt Carol already offered to bake the cake."

I shot Liam a warning glare, but he only smiled politely and promised to "keep them posted."

Once we were back in the car, I turned on him. "Why didn't you correct her?"

He started the engine. "Because you were standing right there, and you didn't either."

"That's because I was too busy choking on my own disbelief!"

He smirked. "Relax, Cross. It's not like we're actually-" He stopped, glancing at me in the rearview mirror with that calculating look I'd learned to dread. "Although..."

My stomach dropped. "No. Absolutely not."

"Hear me out," he said, shifting gears. "Friday's investor dinner is the most important night of my career. My biggest competitor is already whispering about my 'unstable bachelor lifestyle.'"

"Which is none of their business."

"In a perfect world, sure. But the board loves optics. And nothing says stable like a man who's not only engaged, but married."

I blinked at him. "You're suggesting we...?"

"Make it official," he said smoothly. "Just for now. Long enough for me to secure the deal, and for you to get your family completely off your back."

I laughed sharp and humorless. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Yes. And I'm hearing opportunity." His eyes met mine, steady and unreadable. "Think about it. We set terms. We file the paperwork. We play the part for as long as we need, then walk away. Clean break."

I stared at him, torn between outrage and... something else I didn't want to name.

"This is insane," I said finally.

"Maybe. But it solves both our problems." He leaned back, like he already knew I was halfway convinced. "Unless you'd rather explain to your mom why your fake fiancé vanished before the wedding invitations went out."

I groaned, pressing my hands to my face. "I hate that you're making sense."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a maybe."

He grinned, slow and victorious. "I can work with maybe."

The rest of the drive was quiet, but my mind wasn't. I kept replaying his words, imagining the headlines, the family reactions... and the fact that somewhere along the line, pretending to be Liam Wolfe's fiancée had stopped feeling entirely like an act.