His Ring Her Rules

I would have laughed a few weeks ago if you had told me that I would be sitting on a penthouse balcony, drinking tea, and wearing Ethan Blackwood's hoodie while placing my feet in his lap. or sobbed. Perhaps both.

But here we were.

I wrinkled my nose at the platter between us and remarked, "I still can't believe your idea of a 'light snack' is caviar and lemon-thyme crisps."

Ethan responded, "It's what the chef sent up," hardly raising his gaze from the baby album he was still poring through.

"We could just eat peanut butter toast like everyone else, you know."

There was a grin on his face. "You presume I've had toast with peanut butter before."

"You haven't?"

Ethan's forehead raised. "I have consumed peanut butter. I've also eaten toast. Never at the same time.

I actually laughed this time, and even I was taken aback by the sound.

It felt... simple at the time. cozy. Strangely comfortable, given that we were two strangers who were legally wed and subject to a contract that was more binding than my landlord's pride.

Then it occurred.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker. A flash of light. A click.

"What was that?" Sitting up, I asked.

Ethan looked after me. Two long-lens, shameless paparazzi were poised on a rooftop across the street like vultures.

He clenched his jaw. "Fuck it."

My throat became foul from the tea I had been drinking. "Do they—"

Indeed. They were shot. He combed his hair with his hand. "You in my sweatshirt." I'm laughing. Put your feet on me.

In other words, it was the most outrageous PDA we have ever had.

He was not amused.

The picture became viral in a matter of hours.

"From Deal in the Boardroom to Genuine Feel? Domestic bliss for Ethan Blackwood and his enigmatic spouse.

Social media ate it up. All of a sudden, we were more than a power struggle. We were trending.

#HoodieOfHope #BlackwoodAndWife #ContractLoveTurnsCozy—well, that one made me giggle.

I was waiting for Ethan to blow up. to give his public relations team a call. to claim that my daring to have toes has damaged his reputation.

Instead, though, he appeared strangely silent. thoughtful.

With his gaze fixed on the television, he stated, "This wasn't part of the plan."

"No," I said cautiously. "It wasn't."

He gave me a glance. "But in some way, it doesn't appear phony."

Once more, I experienced the fluttering sensation in my gut that typically precedes significant life decisions or dreadful errors.

"Well," I whispered, "perhaps the hoodie was helpful."

He twitched his mouth. "I'll place ten more orders."

After that, we didn't talk for a while.

We sat there, wondering how much of this story we had unintentionally changed simply by being human, something that no one had anticipated, least of all us.