Chapter 12
“No, no way. That’s insane.”
Serena shook her hands like she was trying to swat the thought away.
“We just met today. All I know is your name’s Matthew, you're the CEO of some giant company, super rich, and obvious fact—you’re a guy. You only know that I’m Serena, broke, and a runaway bride. Getting married? For real? I mean, I can play along if it’s for a show or something, but this? It's way too much.”
After she finally cooled down a bit, Matthew calmly said, “I need a marriage certificate.”
“I don’t, okay? Seriously, Mr. Quinn. Go find someone else—Emily, Jessica, Ashley, whoever. Just not me.”
Matthew ignored her string of complaints like they were background noise.
“So what, you brought in a stand-in last minute just to bail on your own wedding, and now you’re suddenly talking about marriage certificates?” Serena couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Exactly. But since you showed up instead, I figured—why not switch it up.” A barely noticeable smile tugged at the edge of Matthew’s lips.
“Wait, what?”
Back to serious mode, Matthew replied, “You can name your price.”
“You think I’m trying to scam you for money? Sorry, but marriage is supposed to be based on love and trust—it’s not something you can just throw money at.”
Even she was kinda moved by those words. Dang, did she just make herself tear up?
“And how do you know we don’t have love?”
Matthew’s eyes locked on her face, like he was trying to read every thought running through her head.
Caught off guard, Serena’s eyes widened. “Whoa, don’t get it twisted. Yeah, you’re good-looking and rich, sure. But your personality? Super intense and icy. There’s no way I’d ever fall for someone like you.”
“You got a boyfriend?” Matthew raised an eyebrow slightly.
Serena awkwardly adjusted the blanket around her. “N-no.”
She’d liked Dylan for six years! But they’d never made it official, so... guess he didn’t count?
“This is just business. Given your situation, I'm guessing you'll need my help. Think about it.”
Thinking about the debt her dad was drowning in, those thugs with knives at his throat, and that creepy 50-year-old dude... Serena went quiet. “You mean like, a fake marriage?”
“You could put it that way.”
It's not like she had a better option. Sure, she ran off from the wedding, but that didn’t magically erase the debt back home.
“Alright then. Let’s talk conditions. And we’re getting it in writing, right? Just verbal agreements won’t cut it...”
Matthew reached into a drawer, pulled out a pen and paper, and handed them to her. “Write it down for now. Tomorrow my assistant will email you the official version. Once we both sign, it’s binding.”
Her brain was mush at this point—negotiating terms sounded like a recipe for disaster.
“I’m beat. Let’s pick this up tomorrow,” Serena said, giving a weak cough as she started to lie down.
“Tonight.”
Matthew’s tone left zero room for argument.
Serena gave him a look, half giving in. “Fine. I’ll start. First off, we’re only married on paper. You’re not allowed to try anything funny.” She started jotting notes quickly.
Matthew just stared at her face, like totally zoning out.
When she looked up, he immediately wiped the small smile off his face and went back to his usual poker expression. “And what if you're the one with funny ideas?”
“Excuse me?”
She blinked, completely thrown.
Did he just catch her sneaking a peek at his abs earlier? Oh God, was it that obvious?