Logan groaned and climbed into bed beside her, lifting her feet into his lap and beginning to massage gently.
"You better still co to the yacht party," he said. "Looking hot. Like betrayal in heels."
Jean laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Only if you survive my period week."
Logan kissed the top of her head and muttered, "Challenge accepted."
And just like that, they sat in a quiet morning tangle of tea, cramps, soft cotton, and unexpected comfort.
No contracts.
No performance.
Just warmth.
And maybe, just maybe...
The beginning of sothing real.
____________________________
The morning started like any other.
Almost.
Jean padded into the living room wearing one of Logan’s old button-downs over cycling shorts, nursing her second cup of coffee and scrolling through emails when she heard a loud curse echo from the kitchen.
"You’ve got to be kidding ..."
Logan.
She blinked and walked in.
He was standing by the counter, holding up a crinkled newspaper like it had personally offended him. His phone was buzzing non-stop next to the fruit bowl.
"What’s going on?" she asked, sipping her coffee.
Logan didn’t answer imdiately. He simply turned the paper around, smirking.
Jean froze.
Front page of the celebrity gossip column.
A full-color photo of them... in the café, just yesterday.
Her leaning over the table.
His mouth captured hers in that deep, slow, toe-curling kiss he claid was ’for public appearances.’
It wasn’t blurry. It wasn’t vague.
It was hot. And very clear.
The headline blared.
Kiss of the Tycoons: Kingsley & Adams Are Officially Heating Up
"Newlyweds or just very convincing actors? The Logan Kingsley and Jean Adams arranged marriage rumors take a turn after their sizzling midday kiss in a public café had onlookers blushing and filming. With a gaze that could lt glass and a kiss that might have broken a few NDAs, the city’s most mysterious couple may finally be showing signs of actual affection."
Jean choked on her coffee.
Logan grinned. "Nice angle. My jawline looks sharp."
Jean stared at the picture again, a blush creeping up her neck before she could stop it.
"You... were fild?" she muttered.
"I’m not the one who kissed ," Logan shot back.
"You asked for it!"
"I didn’t expect you to make it look that real," he teased, nudging her playfully.
Jean buried her face in her hands.
"I look like I was enjoying it," she groaned.
Logan stepped closer, voice lower now. "That’s because you were."
She looked up to glare at him but his smug grin made her want to slap him and kiss him again.
"I hate you," she mumbled.
"Liar," he said gently, brushing a kiss on her temple. "You’re just embarrassed the city saw you getting swept off your feet."
Jean rolled her eyes and pushed him away... softly.
But the blush never left her cheeks.
And deep down?
She didn’t hate it at all.
____________________________
The Dominic estate was quiet... too quiet.
Tyler stood by the large window of his study, overlooking the pond outside. He wore a tailored navy suit, hair neatly slicked back, fingers twirling a glass of untouched whiskey.
His eyes were fixed on a photograph on his desk.
A candid shot.
Jean Adams.
Caught in the middle of her laugh... blurred at the edges like the cara shook.
She didn’t even know the photo was taken.
That made it better.
More real.
More of his.
A knock on the door.
Tyler didn’t turn. "Enter."
A tall man stepped in... his assistant. Nervous. As always.
"We’ve confird it," the assistant said. "Jean will be attending the Kingsley yacht party next week. With her husband Logan Kingsley."
A pause.
Tyler smiled... slow, calculated, cold.
"Of course she is."
He finally turned, placing the glass down without drinking.
"She’s getting comfortable," he murmured. "Dangerously so."
The assistant hesitated. "Should we... do anything?"
Tyler tilted his head, eyes narrowing like a predator watching a bird hop too far from the flock.
"No. Not yet."
He walked toward the photo again, brushing his fingers along the edge.
"Let her feel safe. Let him think he’s won."
His smile sharpened.
"That’s when they fall the hardest."
____________________________
Tyler Dominic stepped into the Kingsley executive suite with the ease of soone who belonged everywhere and nowhere.
The office was sleek, modern. A glass box in the sky.
And at its center, seated behind a wide polished desk, was Jared Kingsley.
The man was exactly as Tyler rembered... imposing, iron-spined, with eyes that asured every inch of a man before he spoke a single word. A predator, camouflaged in bespoke tailoring.
"Mr. Dominic," Jared said, rising with a nod. "You’ve made quite a na for yourself in Europe. It’s not often I’m the one taking etings with outsiders."
Tyler extended his hand with a disarming smile. "It’s an honor, Mr. Kingsley. I wouldn’t have co if I didn’t think the opportunity was worth your ti."
"Bullshit! You’re royalty, it is my pleasure to have you here."
They shook hands... firm, unreadable.
Exactly the way both n liked it.
For the next twenty minutes, they talked shop.
Tyler laid out clean, intelligent proposals... discreet rgers, cross-border licensing opportunities, access to elite digital markets Kingsley Corp had yet to tap into. He was precise. Respectful. No pitch, no overselling. Just facts, strategy, and possibility.
Jared listened, quietly impressed.
"You’ve done your research," he said at last.
Tyler sipped his espresso. "I do it when I’m interested."
Jared sat back, assessing him with sharper interest now. The Dominic na was old money, but Tyler had elevated it beyond bloodlines. His poise was calculated, his ideas bold, but grounded. There was sothing... useful about him.
And Kingsleys always recognized useful n.
"We’re hosting a private yacht event next week," Jared said casually, as if it had just occurred to him. "Family, close investors. Discreet, but high value. It might be a good ti for you to et my son."
Tyler didn’t smile too quickly.
He lowered his cup, just the right hint of surprised flattery.
"I’d be honored."
Jared nodded. "I’ll have your na added to the guest list. I think Logan should hear what you’ve laid out."
Tyler leaned back in his seat with quiet satisfaction.
"I look forward to it."
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