✨️ CHAPTER 2 — "The Ring & The Dress" ✨️
---
💗 Jay's POV 💗
I told myself a hundred times on the way there —
This is not a date.
This is not romance.
This is business.
And yet, the moment Keifer pulled up in his black car, wearing that stupidly perfect white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows and a smirk that could melt steel — my heart forgot every memo. 😳💔
He leaned against the car door and said, "You're late, fiancée."
I glared. "Or maybe you're too early, Mr. Punctual."
He shrugged casually. "Or maybe I just didn't want to keep my bride-to-be waiting."
The way he said that — calm, teasing, with a glint in his eyes — ugh. Someone please tell his ego to stay in its lane. 😤
"Let's just get this over with," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Ring fitting, dress fitting, done."
"Perfect," he said, opening the car door for me with that infuriating smirk. "After you, future Mrs. Watson."
I shot him a glare. "Don't push it."
He chuckled. "No promises."
---
The jewelry store was ridiculously fancy.
Everything sparkled — diamonds, chandeliers, even the air felt expensive.
The lady at the counter smiled warmly. "Welcome, Mr. and Ms. Watson—oh, pardon me, soon-to-be Mrs. Watson."
I nearly choked. "It's Mariano," I corrected politely, emphasizing every syllable.
Keifer hid his laugh behind a cough. "For now," he muttered.
I elbowed him. Hard.
We sat down at a velvet-lined counter where trays of engagement rings glittered like a mini galaxy.
The attendant brought out options — silver, rose gold, platinum — and one ridiculously oversized diamond that looked like it could blind a person from five meters away.
Keifer leaned back casually, arms crossed, eyes scanning me instead of the rings. "So, which one says fake fiancée but make it elegant?"
I rolled my eyes. "Ha-ha. Maybe the one that says rich guy compensating for a personality."
He blinked, then burst out laughing. "Touché, Ms. Mariano."
The attendant smiled awkwardly, unsure whether we were flirting or fighting (spoiler: it was both 🫠).
Finally, I picked a simple ring — gold band with a small heart-shaped diamond. Subtle, elegant, nothing dramatic.
"This one," I said quietly.
Keifer studied it, then me. "Simple. I like it."
"I wasn't asking for your opinion," I muttered, cheeks warm.
He smirked. "Still giving it."
When the jeweler asked us to try them on for size, Keifer slid the ring gently onto my finger — his touch careful, fingers brushing mine.
For a second, I forgot to breathe.
It fit perfectly.
And for one insane heartbeat, it felt… real.
Then he whispered, "Don't worry, I'll return it when the deal's over."
I snapped out of it instantly. "Good. I wouldn't want it anyway."
But the faint curve at his lips said otherwise.
---
🖤 Keifer's POV 🖤
If sarcasm was a sport, Jay would've taken home gold.
She sat there, all attitude and grace, pretending to hate everything while somehow making every salesperson stare in admiration.
And the way she looked under those store lights — hair catching the glow, eyes sharp but soft around the edges — yeah, I was in trouble.
When she chose that golden-heart ring, it was like her entire personality — fierce but warm. Not the usual diamond showpieces my mom preferred. No. This was her — simple, meaningful.
And when I slipped it on her finger, I swear, time stopped for a second.
Then, as always, her sarcasm saved me from doing something stupid. Like smiling too much.
---
"Next stop?" I asked when we walked out.
"Boutique," she said. "Your mom insisted."
"Oh yes," I sighed. "My favorite activity — shopping with a woman who hates me."
She smirked. "Finally, something we agree on."
---
💗 Jay's POV 💗
The boutique was a dream — white walls, pastel dresses, soft music. And chaos.
Because apparently, the designer had been told to bring everything.
Every. Single. Dress.
There were racks upon racks of gowns, glittering like galaxies. And me? I was the unwilling astronaut lost in couture space. 😩✨
Keifer sat on a couch, scrolling on his phone with a bored expression, while the staff handed me gown after gown.
"Try this one," one of them said cheerfully, handing me a poofy pink princess thing.
I tried it.
He looked up once and said, "You look like cotton candy."
I threw him a death stare. "You're hilarious."
Next gown — emerald green, tight, dramatic.
He looked up again. "Jungle Barbie."
"Stop talking," I hissed, going back in.
He just grinned. "Can't help it. You make it too easy."
After about twelve more dresses, I was ready to scream.
And then I saw it.
A golden gown.
Soft satin with shimmer that caught light like liquid sunlight.
Simple neckline, fitted bodice, flowing train — elegant, royal, breathtaking.
Something in me stilled.
I touched it carefully, the fabric warm under my fingers.
"This one," I whispered.
The designer smiled. "Ah, our golden muse piece."
When I stepped out wearing it — even the room went silent.
Keifer's phone slipped from his hand.
His eyes widened slightly — not in shock, not in lust, but in that quiet kind of awe that hits you when you see something you can't explain.
I looked in the mirror. For the first time that day, I actually smiled.
Maybe… maybe I could handle this wedding after all.
---
🖤 Keifer's POV 🖤
Oh, I was so screwed.
She stepped out of the dressing room and I swear, my brain short-circuited.
The golden gown hugged her perfectly, shimmering under the soft boutique lights. She looked like she'd walked straight out of a dream — mine, apparently.
My jaw clenched. It's a deal, Keifer.
Business. Remember?
But my heart didn't care.
Because for a moment, she wasn't just the girl forced into this arrangement. She was… everything.
She twirled slightly, checking the mirror, and I found myself saying softly — "It suits you."
She turned, surprised. "What?"
"The dress," I said quickly, hiding my nerves behind my usual cool tone. "It suits you."
Her lips curved slightly. "Thanks… Mr. Watson."
I smirked, trying to breathe normally. "Anytime, Ms. Mariano."
---
Later, when we walked out of the boutique, bags in hand, she sighed.
"I can't believe I just picked a dress for a wedding I didn't even want."
I glanced at her. "Maybe it's not about what we want. Maybe it's about what we end up finding."
She looked at me curiously but didn't respond.
And as we reached the car, I glanced at her one last time — sunlight catching her golden gown bag, her hair dancing in the breeze — and whispered to myself,
It's a deal, Keifer. Just a deal.
Then why does it feel like more? 💛