Maya's POV
This was actually happening.
I stood in the elegant anteroom of the Grandview Hotel ballroom, my heels clicking against marble as I paced in tight circles. The opulent surroundings mocked my desperation. Here I was, about to parade a hired man as my devoted fiancé because my real life had become a complete disaster.
My ex was getting married tonight. Not to some stranger I could hate from a distance, but to Bianca—my former best friend who'd shared my secrets, my dreams, and apparently my man.
The betrayal still burned like acid in my chest. A double knockout that left me questioning everything I thought I knew about love and friendship. If there was an award for spectacularly bad judgment, I'd be accepting it with tears streaming down my face.
Walking away would have been the smart choice. But Bianca had personally called to invite me, her voice dripping with false sweetness and barely concealed triumph.
She wanted me there. Wanted to watch me crumble in front of everyone we knew. But I refused to give her that satisfaction.
So I'd lied. Told her I was bringing my incredibly wealthy, devastatingly handsome fiancé.
"Really? How wealthy?" Her laugh held sharp edges of disbelief.
"He's inheriting one of the largest family businesses in the state," I'd said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
"How fascinating. I'm dying to meet this mysterious man of yours."
Within hours, our entire social circle knew. The gossip spread like wildfire through text chains and social media. Now everyone expected to see Maya Hayes with her millionaire catch, and backing out would only confirm what they all suspected—that I was exactly the pathetic loser Bianca claimed I was.
I'd spent years perfecting the art of pretending when it came to Julian anyway. Pretending I didn't smell expensive perfume on his shirts that wasn't mine. Pretending I believed his elaborate excuses about working late. Pretending I didn't see the loaded glances between him and Bianca when they thought I wasn't watching.
The memory hit me like a physical blow. That rainy Thursday evening when I'd shown up at Bianca's apartment unannounced. The door had been unlocked, jazz music floating through the air. I'd called out her name, following the sounds to her bedroom.
And there they were.
Julian's hands tangled in her hair, her legs wrapped around his waist, both of them lost in passion I thought belonged to me.
"Julian?"
The single word shattered their moment. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed, just rolled his eyes and gave me that condescending smirk I'd grown to hate.
"Maya. This was bound to happen eventually."
My world tilted. "What are you talking about?"
"Come on, sweetheart." Bianca's voice was silk wrapped around poison. "You've always been so predictable. The dependable one, the safe choice. But let's be honest—when was the last time you made anyone's pulse race?"
The words hit their target with surgical precision.
She sat up, not bothering to cover herself, confidence radiating from every pore. "You're background music, Maya. Pleasant enough, but forgettable. Men like Julian need women who can match their fire."
"No one's ever going to choose you first," Bianca continued, each word a calculated strike. "You're meant to be the friend, the backup plan, the one who gets the consolation prize."
That night marked the death of the woman I used to be. If I couldn't be genuinely chosen, then at least I could fake being worthy of choice.
My phone buzzed with a text. Running behind schedule. Almost there.
I wanted to scream. For the premium rate I was paying, punctuality should have been guaranteed.
"Maya! There you are." Chloe materialized beside me, her eyes scanning the empty space around me like a bloodhound searching for prey. "Where's this mysterious fiancé we've all heard about?"
Heat crawled up my neck. "He's parking the car. I'll catch up with you inside."
My phone chose that moment to die completely. Perfect. If my hired date decided to bail now, I'd be completely stranded.
Then he walked in.
Sweet merciful heaven.
The man was pure temptation wrapped in custom Italian wool. Tall enough to make me feel delicate despite my heels, with broad shoulders that filled out his midnight-black suit like a work of art. His dark hair looked deliberately mussed by expensive hands, and his jawline could have cut glass.
But his eyes—stormy blue-gray and sharp with intelligence—those eyes could have convinced me to do absolutely anything.
My preparation photos hadn't done him justice. Not even close.
My feet moved without permission from my brain. I grabbed his arm possessively, pulling him into my desperate performance before he could speak.
"You're late," I hissed.
He looked startled but didn't resist. "I'm sorry, are you—"
"Listen carefully because we don't have time." I cut him off, my voice low and urgent. "My name is Maya Hayes. I'm twenty-six. My cheating ex-fiancé is marrying my backstabbing former best friend tonight, and I need you to be my incredibly wealthy, ridiculously attractive fake fiancé so I don't look like the pathetic loser they think I am."
His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. I could see him fighting back laughter.
"And I would be playing the role of...?"
"The man of my dreams, obviously." I made an exasperated gesture. "That's literally what I'm paying you for. Premium rates, remember?"
Something shifted in his expression, amusement replacing confusion. "Right. And exactly how much am I earning for this performance?"
Was he serious right now?
"Does it matter? I need you to be charming, affectionate, and convincing for one night. Some hand-holding, maybe a few strategic kisses. Nothing complicated."
A slow, wicked smile spread across his face that made my stomach flip. "I think I can manage that."
My heart did something acrobatic in my chest. This man was dangerous.
"Excellent." I forced my voice to stay steady and tugged him toward the ballroom entrance. "We're already fashionably late, which is perfect timing actually."
As we walked, another crucial detail occurred to me.
"We need to establish your identity."
His smile widened with genuine amusement. "Establish my identity?"
"Obviously! You need a name that screams old money and family legacy."
I pulled out the carefully researched list my sister had helped me compile of the most prestigious surnames in our state.
His laugh was rich and warm and completely unfair to my concentration.
"Pick whatever sounds most convincing," I instructed.
He paused thoughtfully, that playful glint returning to his eyes. "Sebastian Sterling."
Before I could respond, the ballroom doors swept open to reveal Bianca in all her bridal glory. Her perfectly composed expression cracked slightly as her gaze landed on my companion.
"Did you say Sterling?" Her voice pitched higher. "As in Sterling Wineries?"