One Kiss Past Pretending

The intercom buzzed a second time.

"Sienna, pick up the damn phone," Chloe called out through the speaker. "The front desk said you came up here."

Panic hit me like a splash of ice water. I shoved against Theo’s broad chest, pushing him off the marble counter.

"Get in the bedroom," I whispered, pointing frantically toward the master suite.

He didn't move at first. He just looked down at me with an infuriating trace of amusement playing on his mouth. "You're kicking me out of my own bed?"

"You don't live here, and my best friend will tear this door off its hinges if I don't open it. Go."

I gave him another hard push. He finally relented, stepping back into the shadows of the master bedroom and pulling the heavy wood door almost shut behind him.

I grabbed an oversized cashmere cardigan from the entryway bench, wrapping it tightly around myself to hide the split zipper on my gown. Taking a steady breath, I swung the double doors open.

Chloe pushed right past me into the foyer, her designer handbag swinging from her elbow.

"Victor is an absolute monster," she announced, pacing toward the kitchen island. "And Grant is worse. Staging a proposal on a national broadcast without asking you? I told your father's PR director that if they run that Monaco montage one more time, I'm leaking Grant's private tax audits to Bloomberg."

"Chloe, breathe," I said, staying near the entryway to block her line of sight.

She stopped mid-stride. Her eyes darted to the dark charcoal suit jacket draped carelessly over the sofa. Then her gaze shifted to the heavy platinum watch resting near the fruit bowl.

"Sienna," Chloe said slowly, turning to face me. "Whose jacket is that?"

Before I could answer, a loud metallic rattle echoed from inside the master bedroom, followed by the sound of running water.

Chloe’s eyebrows shot up. "What was that?"

"Plumbing," I blurted out. "The water pressure in the penthouse towers is completely unstable tonight."

Chloe stared directly at the master bedroom door. "In the bedroom?"

"The en-suite pipes," I corrected, grabbing her arm and steering her back toward the front door. "Listen, I'm exhausted, my head is pounding, and I need sleep before the morning board meeting. Let me handle Victor tomorrow."

Chloe looked between me and the closed bedroom door, suspicion written all over her face. "You're hiding something."

"I'm hiding from the press," I countered smoothly. "I'll call you at eight. I promise."

I practically pushed her into the hallway and hit the lock before she could argue.

The moment the lock clicked, I spun around and marched straight into the master bedroom.

"Did you really have to turn on the—"

The words died in my throat.

Theo stepped out of the adjoining bathroom through a cloud of warm steam. He had discarded his ruined shirt—splattered with red wine from the chaotic auction floor—and wore only a thick white hotel bathrobe tied loosely at his waist. Drops of water clung to his collarbones, his dark hair damp and pushed back from his forehead.

"You took a shower?" I asked, crossing my arms over the oversized cardigan.

"Someone spilled a glass of pinot noir down my sleeve when you dragged me into the service lift," he said, toweling off his neck. "And I'm not sleeping in dirty wool."

"You're not sleeping here at all."

My phone buzzed violently on the nightstand. I picked it up and unlocked the screen.

The internet was ablaze. Clips of our kiss at the bachelor auction had already racked up millions of views across every major social platform. But worse than the viral buzz was the spin Victor's communications team was pushing.

*HART HEIRESS SPIRALS AFTER SURPRISE ENGAGEMENT; SOURCES CITE EMOTIONAL BREAKDOWN.*

Grant was actively trying to frame me as unstable to protect his own ego and keep control of our hotel merger.

"Look at this," I said, holding the screen toward Theo. "They're turning this into a psychological crisis. If I don't control the story by morning, Victor will use the board to strip my authority over the Las Vegas property."

Theo barely glanced at the phone. "So fix it."

"I am fixing it," I said.

I grabbed a leather-bound notepad and a pen from the desk, scribbling rapidly across the cream paper.

"Thirty days," I said, speaking as I wrote. "A mutual, contractual fake engagement. You show up to three key galas, stand next to me for the architectural unveiling, and let the press think we've been quietly seeing each other for months. In exchange, I double what I paid at the auction. One million dollars."

I slid the paper across the dresser toward him.

Theo leaned forward, scanning the brief list of terms. His finger traced down the page, stopping at the final line I had underlined twice in black ink.

*Clause 4: No Sex.*

His gray eyes lifted to mine, an unreadable intensity settling over his features. "No sex?"

"We are business partners," I said firmly. "Nothing more."

"You didn't seem interested in business when you pulled me into the service elevator."

"That was optics."

"Right," he murmured, picking up the pen and signing his initial at the bottom without hesitation. "Optics."

"We leave in twenty minutes," I told him, checking the clock. "The morning paparazzi are already camping outside the front valet. If we walk out together looking cohesive, we kill Grant's narrative before the market opens."

I opened the suite's walk-in wardrobe, which had been pre-stocked with designer backup attire for VIP guests. I pulled a sharp navy suit and a crisp white dress shirt from the rack, tossing them onto the bed. "Wear this."

Ten minutes later, Theo stepped out of the dressing area. The tailored trousers fit him perfectly, but his dress shirt hung open at the chest, the silk tie draped unknotted around his neck.

"You're not finished," I said, stepping up to him.

"You bought the package," he replied, looking down at me. "Make yourself useful."

I reached out, fastening the top buttons of his shirt before taking the two ends of his silk tie. My knuckles brushed against the warm skin of his throat as I folded the fabric into a clean Windsor knot.

When the knot was set, I gripped the silk and yanked it tight, pulling him down until his face was barely two inches from mine.

Theo didn't pull away. His gaze stayed fixed on my lips, completely unbothered by the sudden force.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "You're holding the leash."

"Then behave," I answered, meeting his stare.

"Make me."

For three seconds, neither of us moved. The tension between us was thick enough to suffocate, sharp and dangerously unpredictable.

I forced my hands to drop, smoothing down the lapels of his jacket before stepping back toward the door. "Let's go."

Downstairs, the heavy glass doors of the main lobby slid open to a wall of flashing strobes and shouting voices. Dozens of photographers and entertainment journalists surged against the velvet barricades the moment we stepped into the morning air.

"Miss Hart! Over here!"

"Sienna, is it true you broke things off with Grant Vale?"

"Who is the man from the auction?"

Theo slipped his right arm smoothly around my waist, pulling me against his side. His fingers rested naturally against my hip, his touch steady and deceptively protective.

Before the reporters could shout another question, Theo turned his head and pressed a soft kiss against my temple, performing for the cameras with an ease that made my pulse jump.

"Miss Hart, who is he?" a reporter with a microphone thrust forward.

I looked straight into the central camera lens and lifted my chin.

"He's my fiancé."

The crowd erupted into frantic chatter, shutter clicks firing off like machine guns.

"What's his name?" another reporter yelled over the noise. "What is your full name, sir?"

A cold shock hit my spine.

I had signed a contract with him. I had kissed him twice. I had agreed to pay him a million dollars.

And I didn't even know his real name.

I held my breath, waiting for the lie to fall apart on live television.

Theo didn't hesitate. He looked directly at the press corps, his voice calm, heavy, and absolute.

"Warren," he said, offering his mother's maiden name without a single flicker of doubt. "Theo Warren."