The Wedding Planner's Billionaire Contract

he reached for it on the nightstand, the unfamiliar dimensions of the guest room still asserting themselves in th

phic Opportunity). Attire: Casual, elevated. Objective: Establish narr

guage turned a simple grocery trip into a covert mission. She pushed back the covers, the m

there, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows with a mug of black coffee. He was dressed in a mirror of her own calculated casualness: dark jeans, a charcoal knit shirt that softened t

s vetted it. High pedestrian traffic, excellent natural light before ten, and a documented history of

ng her own coffee. "So we're not just hop

d, finally turning. His gaze swept over her, an assess

aid, sipping her coffee. "We're supposed to look like we enjoy each other's

etween his brows. "The brief suggests active

decisive click. "Rule one: your hand on my back shouldn't hove

s, giving a sho

with the scent of damp soil, ripe berries, and frying dough. Canopies in cheerful stripes shaded piles of vibrant vegetables,

ole. "Okay," she murmured, stepping closer so her arm brushed his. "We're in character. We're a couple doing a trendy Sa

greens. "Pick up the kale," she instructed u

hy

s never touched kale in your life.

, a genuine sound of amusement that surprised her. She reached out, adjusting his grip. "You cradle it. Like it's a fragile, gre

her back as they navigated the crowd, but the touch was hesitant, a technical compliance. Elena found herself narrating internally, directing

she was debating between rye

scene around them. Elena's entire body locked, her professional persona snapping to attention. Single

xt thought could

which had been lightly resting on her back, curled around her waist, pulling her firmly against him, turning her face in towards his chest. Hi

he market-coffee, bread, flowers-were eclipsed by the clean, sharp scent of his soap and the warmth of his skin. For a suspended second, the w

on her waist, a steadying anchor. His face was a mask of calm, but his eyes were shar

sourdough she'd been holding. Xander paid with a large bill, murmuring, "

ad, the paper bag with the bread crumpling in her tight grip. She could still feel the imprint o

deviated from the brief. My reaction was... instinctual,

ut his window, his profile rigid. The CEO

single, unguarded moment. Her face was half-hidden against him, but what was visible wasn't fear or performance. It was something like surprise, and a strange, dawning acceptance. And him

him. "You sold it better than any 'Code of Conduct' ever could." She paused,

ked back at her, the professional detachment in his eyes had fissured, revealing something more complex, more unsettled. "The architecture is paper

in the back of the car, a space defined by cont

k onto the bed, the photo still open on her phone. She zoomed in on her own face, then on his. The professional in her approved: the narrative of protecti

screen. Not from the shared calenda

apher was freelance, no secondary threat. The image has bee

dough is on

And yet, he'd mentioned the bread. The one real

her thumbs hoverin

I'll handle t

hen added a

... the instinct was b

t expecting a reply. A min

Not

t less like a corporate acknowledgment and more like