Forced to Wear My Sister's Wedding Dress

The silence stretched one second too long before Julian moved.

He reached up and adjusted her veil, fingers brushing her temple like the touch of a man deeply, tenderly in love.

To the three hundred guests holding their breath, it looked like devotion.

"Don't embarrass me," he murmured, so quietly only she could hear it.

Then, louder, to the room: "Let's continue."

The ceremony moved fast after that. Vows, rings, and a kiss that lasted exactly as long as decorum required. 

"Mr. Castellan! Kiss your bride!" a reporter shouted over the noise.

Julian turned to her. His hand cupped her jaw, gentle and certain. He leaned down and kissed her like he meant it. Flashbulbs erupted, sealing the perfect performance for the family and the press.

But when he pulled back, his lips barely moved against hers. "Don't mistake this for affection."

The moment the suite door closed behind them, the performance ended.

Julian walked toward the bar, stripping off his tuxedo jacket with smooth, methodical movements.

Eva rubbed her arms, her bridal gown suddenly feeling like a cage. "You can stop pretending," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet. "No one's watching now."

Julian didn't look at her. He poured two fingers of amber liquid into a glass. "Pretending is what keeps your family solvent, Eva. I suggest you get used to it."

"You keep looking at me like I ruined your life," she pushed harder, stepping into his space. "I don't even know you. 

Julian set his glass down. The silence returned, heavy and thick.

He closed the distance between them so fast she didn't have time to back away. He stopped just inches from her, his sheer height casting a shadow over her.

The scent of cedar and expensive cologne filled her senses, dangerously intimate.

He leaned in, his voice a low, controlled purr near her ear. "You know exactly what you did. Playing the innocent victim doesn't suit you."

Eva refused to flinch. She leaned up, her breath hitching at his proximity. "Then enlighten me. Because right now, you're just a monster holding me hostage."

Julian's eyes darkened. For a second, his gaze dropped to her lips, a charged, suffocating pressure building between them.

The emotional pull was terrifying, a sharp undercurrent of attraction buried beneath mutual hostility.

"Careful," he whispered, his hand rising to rest against the wall just behind her head, trapping her. "You might find out that the monster is the only thing keeping you safe."

He held her gaze for one more agonizing second before pulling back completely. The intense heat vanished, replaced by his usual icy composure.

He walked to the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a photograph. He set it face-up on the table between them. "I've never met you," Eva repeated, trying to ground herself. "That is the only truth here."

"Five years ago," Julian said, staring at her with devastating certainty, "you begged me not to marry another woman."

Eva let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "That's insane. I would remember that."

"Would you?"

Julian tossed a second photograph right beside the first one.

This one wasn't faded. It was recent, showing her exact current haircut. In the photo, Eva stood beside Julian, her hand locked firmly in his, laughing genuinely at something outside the frame. She looked comfortable. Familiar.

Eva stared until her eyes burned. She had never seen this picture. She had never held his hand like that.

For one second, Eva wondered if he was telling the truth.