I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 33 - 34 Not A Charade

Chapter 33: Chapter 34 Not A Charade

Silence.

Annoyingly persuasive silence.

I hated how tempted I was.

Rhys Granger used to be the guy every woman in Skyline had on her dream board. Me included, back when I didn’t know he was a full-time bastard. Catherine, Serenna—hell, we were all drunk on the fantasy.

But now Ashton Laurent was the real obsession. Not just the last name—though, yeah, being a Laurent definitely opened doors—but the man himself. The brains, the backbone, the unnerving calm.

Marrying him would be the ultimate power move.

And unlike the other preening, entitled bachelors, he actually acted like a decent human being. Every time we’d crossed paths, he’d been polite, respectful.

Which made him even more dangerous.

Honestly, if I had to pick someone out of everyone I knew, he was the safest bet by a mile.

But that was the bit that didn’t make sense.

We’d barely seen each other. A few run-ins, some short conversations, and, yes, one wild night together.

But nothing remotely close to ‘hey, let’s ruin our lives together’ territory.

So why the hell was he offering to marry me like it was no big deal?

He could have anyone. Literally anyone. There were women in Skyline who’d trample their own sisters to get his number.

What did I have that made me wife material in Ashton Laurent’s billionaire brain?

I looked at him. Straight up asked, ‘Why me?’

‘It doesn’t have to be a permanent situation. If things don’t work out, we can split after a year.’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘That’s not what I asked. I said—why me?’

His mouth curled slightly. ‘Doesn’t have to be you. You’re right, I’ve got options, and I’m guessing you do too. But out of all the people we could’ve dragged into a pretend marriage, I’m still your best pick. That’s why you came to me in the first place, yes?’

‘Yes,’ I said reluctantly.

‘Miss Vance, I’m not playing house. This wouldn’t be some cutesy charade. It’d be a real, legal marriage. With paperwork. With rings. You’d have a marriage certificate and a title that means something. And with that, you can tell Mrs Granger to back off, and your family to shove their matchmaking plans. You’d finally have the upper hand.’

He paused just long enough to make it clear he wasn’t bluffing. ‘Think about it.’

***

I had no clue how I made it back to Oakwood Apartments.

At some point, Ashton had deposited me at my doorstep, then headed back to the office like he didn’t need sleep.

I unlocked my door, stumbled to the sofa, and flopped down.

His words wouldn’t stop replaying.

‘Marry me.’

‘I’m your best option.’

I lay there, staring into nothing, trying to digest the world’s weirdest proposal.

Marriage. Real marriage. Not the fake kind. This was legit, legal, and terrifying.

Even if we were just putting on a show for our families, it’d still be a show with contracts and paperwork and probably a joint tax return.

He needed a buffer from his family. I needed to shut down Louisa and her delusions. Fine. Strategic partnership, one-year term, no sex, no drama. Easy, right?

I told myself it was fine. Totally fine. Very normal to consider marrying a man I barely knew just to get my life back.

It didn’t help that my brain had turned into a courtroom. One tiny lawyer-me was screaming ‘Run!’, the other one was already drawing up the prenup.

They bickered so loud in my head I thought I might throw something.

I lay sprawled like a zombie for a bit, then gave up trying to think and stumbled into the shower.

Two minutes later I was face-planted in bed, lights still on, hair still damp, consciousness entirely gone.

By the time I got to Nyx Collective the next morning, I looked semi-human. Barely.

A whole flock of interns had formed a human shrine around Violet Lin, who was basking in the attention and waving her hands around.

‘The Laurent party was insane. I swear, the road was lined with luxury cars. Only the crème de la crème of Skyline City even got through the gates... Obviously, I was on the guest list. Oh, and I talked to the heir, you know, the one who just got back from overseas? He’s hotter than any actor. I mean, movie-star jawline, a killer bod. You get it.’

I didn’t get it. Or care.

I swerved around the Violet fan club and beelined straight for my desk.

The second she clocked me, her whole vibe shifted. Her smile twitched. She continued her story but kept glancing over at me like I might jump up and shout ‘You lie!’ any moment.

When I didn’t say anything, she relaxed. Her shoulders dropped, her voice got louder, and the fake stories flowed like boxed wine at an office party.

I tried sketching. Five design drafts, all garbage. I gave up after I realised draft six looked suspiciously like Ashton’s face and headed for the break room, hunting caffeine.

But his voice followed me there like a persistent ghost.

‘Marry me.’

‘I’m your best option.’

I blinked and realised the water dispenser was overflowing. I fumbled to switch it off before the flood reached my shoes.

‘What’s got you so spaced out?’

I jumped. Nearly launched the bloody cup across the room.

Violet was leaning against the door jamb.

She clicked her tongue. ‘Seriously? It was an innocent question. You look like you just got caught burying a body. You up to something shady?’

I didn’t answer. Just grabbed some napkins, wiped down the counter, and headed for the door.

‘Stop!’ Violet blocked my path. ‘Didn’t you hear me talking to you?’

‘There’s nothing to talk about.’ I didn’t even slow down.

Our mutual fake-nice era was very much over, and I wasn’t interested in reruns.

But she stepped in front of me again and hissed in a low voice, ‘You’d better keep what happened at the Laurent party to yourself. Don’t go running your mouth to the others, got it?’