The Billionaire's Fake Marriage

Vivienne's POV

"I hate you."

"Love you too," Alex said, smiling like a psychopath while cameras flashed around us like guns.

"You do realize that if one flash goes off wrong, I'm suing you for emotional trauma?"

"Relax," he whispered, sliding his hand over mine in a 'look natural' kind of way. "We're married now, remember? Smile, Mrs. Knight."

How did it all start? It was one month ago.

I was gliding through the Langford Charity Gala, holding my sparkling water like it was a lifeline, when gravity suddenly decided it hated me. My heel caught the edge of a carpet fold, and I pitched forward falling in slow motion.

"Whoa!" a voice said, as he caught me around the waist, pressing me against his solid chest. My heart slammed into my ribs as I had imagined my face hitting the carpet floor. I looked up and behold, it was Alexander Knight, the infamous Billionaire.

"Uh... thanks." I murmured, trying to steady myself while pretending I wasn't panicking internally.

"Careful next time." He said, smirking slightly, one corner of his mouth curling in that maddeningly confident way.

I rolled my eyes, muttering something about carpet folds being out to get me, and stepped back, adjusting my dress and heels. He didn't linger and neither did I. And that was it. The incident could have ended there, you know, a thankful nod, a polite smile, and life going on.

But nope. Life had set me up.

3 days later, at work, I was just minding my own business as usual, focusing on my job, trying to get by. Then suddenly some messages started coming in my phone.

"Vee. Did you see what's going on?" The first messages trickled in.

"Viv, OMG, you need to check this."

I ignored them at first. I thought my friends were sharing some random news, memes or something, and I really didn't care.

Until my colleague cornered me, phone held up like a trophy.

"Viv, look!"

And I looked.

And behold, there I was, the exact same incident of me falling and being caught by Alex, captured in a photo that made it look... different. It was scandalous and suggestive.

The headlines read: "Reckless or Romantic? Alexander Knight's Scandalous Gala Encounter Threatens Multi-Billion Dollar Deal!"

"This... isn't real." I whispered in disbelief. "This is a lie. Someone made this up."

How did this happen? Who did this?

Questions started flooding in my mind as if by answering them I could somehow magically bring the news down. One thing was clear to me at that point: this photo was going to cause trouble.

And just as if the universe could hear my thoughts, a call came in.

"Vivienne Hart. I need to see you. Now!" It was Alex. "Send me your location. I'm coming right away."

His voice was commanding, leaving no room for argument or questions. And I didn't know when my lips moved and told him I was at work, and also told him where I worked.

Few minutes later, Alex appeared at my office, striding past security like they were decorations, followed by his PR officer, Stephanie, who looked like she had never seen anyone flinch at billionaires before.

"We have a huge problem." he said, stopping in front of my desk. "Your little 'accident' has created an issue and now you're the reason my billion-dollar contract is at risk."

"You're blaming me?" I said, confused, standing up from my seat. "I... I fell. It wasn't intentional."

"That little accident of yours," he started yelling, "has threatened everything! My investors are panicking and the press is spinning the whole matter making it worse!!!"

"It is still not my fault!" I snapped, yelling back. Immediately almost everyone gathered to see what in the h*ll was going on.

"Yes it is," he said, "You fell into my arms, and the world has interpreted it differently. You are the reason everything is going to sh*t!"

The PR officer then stepped forward, gesturing with her hands in attempt to calm the tension.

"But we have a solution." she said, flipping open a folder. "We propose a fake marriage. You and Mr. Knight. Public appearances, staged interviews, smiles... stuff like that. Just for one year. Problem solved."

"WHAT??" I asked in shock. "You want me to marry him for the sake of publicity."

"Yes." she continued. "It's going to be completely staged. No romantic involvement required, beyond what is necessary. You'll have to pretend that you're dating for a month before the official wedding. And compensation is included."

"What do you mean compensation?" I asked, folding my arms, ready to say no.

"Ten million dollars." she said, casually.

Ten. Million. Dollars.

Her words rang in my head like I was just hypnotized. Every come back I was prepared to shoot back at both of them suddenly evaporated into thin air leaving me blank and staring into nothingness, thinking about the money.

I didn't even process the absurdity. My mind ran through all the possibilities: apartment upgrades, investments, projects on hold, the freedom to actually live, my mother....

Ten million could change everything.

"Thoughts?" Alex leaned against the corner of my desk, frowning.

"Are you insane?" I asked, blinking fast as I started coming back to reality. "A fake marriage? To you?" I asked, still in shock and processing everything.

"Trust me. It wasn't my idea." He said, with a smug voice. "Left for me I wouldn't give a sh*t. But I need to protect my empire. Plus, you'll benefit. Call it a transaction." He continued. "Consider it fast and let's move on."

I felt like punching him the way he said that like I was one of his toys he's giving a command.

"I hate you." I muttered before I could stop myself. And truly I did. He's a pompous arrogant pr*ck.

"Sure. And yet, you're thinking about it." He said. "It's written all over your face."

I weighed all the options before I made my decision.

Is there a possibility of this being a bad idea? Yes.

Do I hate this arrogant pr*ck? H*ll yeah.

Is this a chance to make ten million dollars while keeping my dignity? Absolutely.

"Fine." I said, after a pause that felt like hours. "I'll do it."

He extended a hand and I shook it.

"Welcome to my world." he said, almost conspiratorial. This was the point I finally realized some of my colleagues were close by eavesdropping and watching the 3 of us discuss.

He left his card on my table before walking out, not wasting another moment. On it is written his full name, phone number, email address and a location.

"I'll send you further details and instructions shortly, ma'am." His PR said before walking out. "Don't worry this is going to be easy. You can call me Stephanie."

And that was how I got myself into a marriage contract agreement with the infamous billionaire of New York.