Scented Claudia

Nothing much had happened in the past few weeks, apart from me securing even more investors for the company.

My schedule was packed with meetings and strategy sessions, while Raphael was buried in hospital shifts that left him too tired to even text me a proper goodnight.

We hadn't really had time to be... us.

But here we were anyway, preparing to get married.

I sat in front of the mirror, letting my glam team work their magic.

My hair fell in soft, glossy curls over my bare shoulders, framing my face like something out of an ad.

My makeup was elegant but subtle a flawless, dewy base, the faintest pink blush, champagne-toned lids, and a deep nude lipstick that made my lips look fuller, kissable.

When they were done, I stood.

My gown shimmered under the warm light, a masterpiece of silk and lace.

It hugged every curve with a dangerous precision a mermaid silhouette with a long, dramatic train that looked like it belonged on a runway.

The bodice was corseted, off-shoulder, revealing just enough collarbone to be sinful without crossing the line.

Tiny pearls and crystals were stitched so carefully that every movement made me glimmer.

I took a breath, staring at myself.

This was really happening.

The venue was straight out of a fairy tale.

A lush garden transformed by a canopy of white flowers and greenery, golden fairy lights strung overhead like fallen stars. The aisle was lined with blooms so dense it was like walking through a cloud.

As the sun sank, everything bathed in molten gold.

I felt my chest tighten as i took the first step.

Fake. It was supposed to be fake.

So why was my heart hammering in my ears?

Mom's arm was linked through mine, her cheeks wet with tears she didn't bother to wipe.

Dad was on my other side, stoic but his lip trembled when he looked at me.

"You're beautiful," he whispered hoarsely. "My little girl."

I bit my lip to keep it together.

Ahead of us, Raphael's mom, Vien, was openly dabbing at her eyes.

And then there was Raphael.

Standing at the altar in a classic black tuxedo, all broad shoulders and sharp lines. The white dress shirt made his skin look warm, his dark hair was neatly styled, and he wore that familiar unreadable expression that was somehow more intimate than any grin.

My chest tightened even more.

Was he nervous? Faking it?

Or was he... here?

For real?

The officiant began to speak, but i barely heard.

It felt like there was only Raphael.

When it was time for vows, he went first.

His voice was low and steady, but I heard the tiny waver.

"I never imagined i'd be here. But life is messy, unpredictable. Claudia, you're strong, stubborn, impossible, and the most breathtaking woman i've ever met. I know i'm not perfect, but i'llstand by you. Always."

He slid the ring onto my finger.

My hands trembled slightly.

I inhaled deeply.

"Raphael," I began softly. "You crashed into my life in the most inconvenient, unbelievable way. And now you're here. We don't have the perfect story, but i promise to choose you every day. To fight for you. To be the partner you deserve, even when it's hard. Always."

I slid the ring onto his finger.

The officiant's voice boomed, but it sounded far away.

"You may now kiss the bride."

His hand lifted to my cheek so gently, like i might break.

Our lips met.

I'd meant for it to be a quick, polite kiss.

But the second we touched, my world tilted.

Warmth spilled down my spine.

His lips were so soft, moving slowly, pressing just enough.

It felt like everything stopped.

I pulled away breathless.

And for a split second, I saw something raw and real in his eyes.

—

The reception was in the same garden, transformed by nightfall.

White flowers everywhere, tables covered in gold-accented linens, candles flickering in glass globes.

Soft music played under the strings of fairy lights.

We sat at the center table, plates of filet mignon, buttered lobster, truffle pasta in front of us.

Raphael kept cutting my steak and setting it on my plate like i might starve without him.

"You should eat," he murmured.

I tilted my head, smirking. "Planning on fattening me up already, Doc?"

He snorted, trying not to smile.

Wine was poured.

Laughter spilled into the air.

When it was time for the first dance, the lights dimmed.

Raphael stood, holding out his hand.

I took it without thinking.

He pulled me in close, one arm at my waist, the other holding my hand lightly.

"Don't step on my foot," he teased under his breath.

I gasped, pretending to be offended. "Excuse you, I'm a fabulous dancer."

"We'll see."

We moved slowly, the world melting away.

I felt every breath, every tiny shift.

And as the song ended, I realized i was staring at his lips.

He noticed too.

We turned away at the same time, trying not to laugh.

-

After the cake was cut and everyone had toasted us too many times, we finally escaped.

Our hotel suite was absurdly romantic a white roses on every surface, candles glowing, a giant bed with crisp white sheets.

I told myself it was just a bed.

Just a room.

But it was hard to believe it.

I showered first, choosing my best nightwear: silky, champagne-colored, barely-there straps, low neckline, shorts that were more suggestion than coverage.

I sat at the edge of the bed, crossing my legs carefully, spraying perfume where he might lean close.

I wasn't nervous.

Not at all.

I kept telling myself that.

When the door opened, Raphael stepped out with damp hair, towel around his neck, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants.

They hung so low it was criminal.

He froze.

I smirked.

"Enjoying the view?" I offered him a glass of wine.

He downed it like water.

I lifted a brow. "Thirsty?"

He glared half-heartedly. "You're insane."

We sat side by side, drinking, tipsy enough that our laughter turned into leaning against each other.

We traded stories.

Childhood fights.

Embarrassing moments.

He admitted to falling off a hospital bed mid-nap.

I howled with laughter.

When i calmed down, I realized we were close.

Too close.

His fingers brushed my cheek, tucking my hair back.

Our eyes locked.

My breath caught.

He leaned in.

Our lips met.

It started so, so slow.

Warm. Careful.

But then his hand slid to my waist, pulling me against him.

Heat flooded through me.

His mouth moved against mine like he was learning me.

I felt his fingers slide under my top—

SNAP.

Fuck.

I blinked.

Raphael was on the couch.

Yes. The damn couch.

The bed was untouched.

I let out an unholy groan, grabbing the pillow.

I stomped over.

"Really? The couch?"

He didn't even look at me. "Where else?"

I shoved the pillow at him. "Asshole."

He didn't move.

So i climbed onto the bed.

But i couldn't sleep.

I peeked over the edge.

He was breathing evenly.

Quiet.

I slowly rolled closer—

And promptly fell on top of him.

He groaned.

"Jesus, Claudia."

Before i could scramble away, he scooped me up, carried me like a sack of potatoes, and dumped me on the bed.

I laughed. "Aw, caring husband!"

He rolled his eyes and tucked the entire blanket around me, cocooning me.

I squirmed. "HEY!"

He patted my head. "Stay."

He walked back to the couch.

I glared at the ceiling, bound in my blanket prison.

"This isn't over, Raphael."

I heard him chuckle from the dark.

"Sleep."

I sighed dramatically, wriggling.

This fake marriage was going to kill me.

And i was definitely looking forward to it.