Updated Oct 23, 2025 • ~11 min read
LINA’S POV
The courthouse smelled like old paper and broken promises.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting the cream-colored dress I’d panic-bought at Target last night. It had seemed elegant under the fluorescent store lighting. Now, in the harsh reality of this institutional bathroom, it just looked like I was trying too hard.
Or maybe not hard enough. I couldn’t tell anymore.
“You’re doing this for the money,” I whispered to my reflection. “Twelve thousand dollars. Financial freedom. A fresh start.”
My reflection didn’t look convinced.
The bathroom door swung open, and a woman in her sixties walked in, took one look at me, and smiled. “Wedding day jitters?”
“Something like that.”
“Don’t worry, honey. Everyone’s nervous. I was a mess at my first wedding.” She pulled out lipstick, applying it with the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times. “Of course, that one didn’t last. But my second one? Thirty-two years and counting.”
“Congratulations,” I managed.
“The secret is marrying your best friend.” She capped her lipstick, giving me one last warm smile. “Someone who knows all your ugly parts and loves you anyway.”
She left, and I stared at myself again. Seb wasn’t my best friend. He wasn’t even my actual friend. He was a stranger I’d agreed to legally bind myself to for money.
No complications, he’d said.
I smoothed down my dress one more time and walked out.
Seb was waiting in the hallway, and I hated that my first thought was how unfairly good he looked. Charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, no tie—like he was heading to a business meeting, not a wedding. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, though, like he’d been running his hands through it.
Nervous? Could Sebastian Santoro actually get nervous?
“Hey,” I said.
He turned, and something shifted in his expression. His eyes traveled from my face down to my dress and back up again, and for a second, he just stared.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly.
“It’s Target.”
“It’s perfect.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. “I, uh… I got you something.”
I blinked. “You got me something?”
“We need rings. For the interview process.” He opened the box, revealing two simple gold bands. “I wasn’t sure about your size, but the jeweler said we could resize if needed.”
They were elegant. Understated. Exactly what I would have chosen if this were real.
“You didn’t have to—”
“It’s part of the deal,” he said, but his voice was gentle. “May I?”
I held out my left hand, trying to ignore the fact that it was trembling. Seb took it carefully, like I was something fragile, and slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
“Lucky guess?” I asked.
“I’m good at reading people.” His thumb brushed against my knuckles, and that spark from the coffee shop was back, stronger this time. “Your turn.”
I took his ring from the box. His hands were larger than I’d expected, warm and solid as I slid the band into place. It looked right there. Natural. Like it belonged.
I dropped his hand quickly.
“We should go in,” I said. “Don’t want to be late for our own wedding.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “No, we definitely don’t want that.”
SEB’S POV
I was making a mistake.
The thought hit me as we walked into the small ceremony room, past the plastic flowers and the bored-looking officiant who’d probably married a dozen couples today. Lina’s hand was in mine—small, soft, her pulse visible at her wrist—and I realized I’d underestimated this.
I’d underestimated her.
When Stella had first mentioned her friend who needed money, I’d pictured someone desperate. Transactional. Easy to compartmentalize. But Lina Moreno was none of those things. She was sharp and funny and so alive it almost hurt to look at her. And the way she’d looked at me when I’d called her beautiful…
Focus, Santoro. This is business.
“Do you have witnesses?” the officiant asked, sounding like she’d rather be literally anywhere else.
“Just us,” I said.
She sighed. “I’ll grab someone from the office.”
We stood there in awkward silence. Lina fidgeted with her ring, spinning it around her finger. The fluorescent lights made her skin look pale, and I wondered if she’d eaten today. If she’d slept last night. If she was regretting this as much as I was starting to.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“Fine.” She gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just thinking about how I’m going to explain this to my mother.”
“What are you going to tell her?”
“The truth, I guess. That I met someone, fell hard, couldn’t wait.” She laughed, but it sounded hollow. “She’ll probably think I’m pregnant.”
The word hung in the air between us. Pregnant. Children. All the things that definitely weren’t part of our arrangement.
The officiant returned with two random clerks who looked thrilled to be dragged away from their work. “Alright, let’s make this quick. I have another ceremony in fifteen minutes.”
Romance at its finest.
LINA’S POV
The ceremony was over in four minutes.
Four minutes to legally tie myself to someone whose favorite color I didn’t even know. Four minutes of repeating words that thousands of couples said with tears in their eyes and love in their hearts, while I just felt numb.
“I, Lina, take you, Sebastian…”
His eyes never left mine. Dark, intense, unreadable.
“To have and to hold, from this day forward…”
This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t—
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer…”
His hand tightened around mine.
“In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…”
Love. What a joke.
“Till death do us part.”
“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant announced with all the enthusiasm of someone reading a grocery list.
Seb’s eyes widened slightly. I’d forgotten about this part. Of course there would be a kiss. There was always a kiss.
“We don’t have to—” I started.
He stepped closer, one hand coming up to cup my face. His palm was warm against my cheek, and I could smell that cologne again, mixed with something else. Coffee. Mint. Him.
“For the witnesses,” he murmured, so quietly only I could hear. “Make it look real.”
Then he kissed me.
It was supposed to be quick. Perfunctory. A box to check on our list of contractual obligations. But the moment his lips touched mine, something shifted. The world narrowed to just this—the soft pressure of his mouth, the way his fingers threaded into my hair, the sharp intake of his breath like maybe he felt it too.
The spark. The heat. The terrifying possibility that this wasn’t as fake as we’d both promised.
I pulled back first, my heart hammering against my ribs. Seb’s pupils were dilated, his breathing uneven. For a second, neither of us moved.
“Congratulations,” the officiant said flatly, already gathering her papers. “Next.”
We signed the certificate in silence. My new signature—Lina Moreno-Santoro—looked foreign on the page. Like someone else’s life.
“That’s it?” I asked as we stepped back into the hallway. “We’re just… married now?”
“We’re just married now,” Seb confirmed. He loosened his collar, and I noticed a flush creeping up his neck. “I’ll file the paperwork with immigration next week. We should probably start moving your things into my place this weekend.”
Right. The apartment. Our apartment. The next phase of this elaborate charade.
“Seb,” I said, and he turned to look at me. “That kiss—”
“Was for show,” he finished quickly. Too quickly. “Like you said. We have to make it believable.”
“Right. Believable.”
“Lina…” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “This doesn’t change anything. The arrangement is still the same. No strings. No complications.”
“No complications,” I echoed.
But as we walked out of that courthouse—husband and wife, strangers with matching rings—I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d just complicated everything.
The afternoon sun was brutal after the dim courthouse, and I fumbled for my sunglasses. Seb’s phone buzzed. Then again. And again.
He pulled it out, frowning at the screen.
“Problem?” I asked.
“My brother. He’s asking where I am.” Seb typed something quickly, then pocketed the phone. “I told everyone I had a business meeting.”
“The business of getting married.”
“Something like that.” He glanced at me, and for the first time since we’d met, he looked uncertain. “Do you want to get dinner? To celebrate?”
“Celebrate our business transaction?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds depressing.”
“Because it is depressing,” I said, but I was smiling despite myself. “But sure. Dinner. The happy couple should probably eat.”
We ended up at a small Italian place two blocks from the courthouse. It was the kind of restaurant with red checkered tablecloths and candles in wine bottles, clearly designed for actual romance. The hostess took one look at our rings and practically squealed.
“Newlyweds! Congratulations! Let me get you our best table.”
She sat us in a corner booth, brought complimentary champagne, and told us at least three times how beautiful we looked together. Seb and I exchanged glances across the table, both fighting smiles.
“We’re really committing to this lie,” I said once she’d left.
“Might as well enjoy the free champagne.” He raised his glass. “To business transactions?”
“To business transactions,” I agreed, clinking my glass against his.
The champagne was good. The food was better. And somewhere between the appetizers and the main course, I forgot to be nervous. Seb was easy to talk to when he wasn’t being all formal and contractual. He told me about growing up in Italy, about his first time in New York, about the app his company was developing that I didn’t entirely understand but pretended to.
I told him about my design work, about my disaster of a dating history, about the time I accidentally sent a client a file labeled “corporate_hell_logo_final_actually_final_for_real_this_time.pdf.”
He laughed. A real laugh, the kind that crinkled his eyes and made him look younger.
“You’re not what I expected,” he said.
“What did you expect?”
“Someone more…” He searched for the word. “Mercenary, I guess. You needed money, I needed a wife. Simple math.”
“And now?”
“Now I think maybe Stella was right about you.” His eyes were soft in the candlelight. “You’re a good person, Lina. Better than this situation deserves.”
Something warm bloomed in my chest, dangerous and unwelcome.
“Don’t get sentimental on me, Santoro,” I said lightly. “We have six months of living together ahead of us. Can’t have you going soft.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” But he was still smiling.
We left the restaurant as the sun was setting, painting the city in shades of orange and pink. Seb insisted on walking me to my apartment—”You’re my wife now, I should make sure you get home safe,” he’d said, and I was too tipsy from champagne to argue.
At my door, we stood in that awkward space between strangers and something more.
“I’ll see you Saturday?” he said. “For the move?”
“Saturday,” I confirmed.
He hesitated, then leaned in and kissed my cheek. Soft. Quick. The kind of kiss that could have been friendly but felt like more.
“Goodnight, wife,” he murmured.
“Goodnight, husband.”
💋 This scene continues with an exclusive bonus chapter on Patreon! Want to see what happens when the wedding night tension becomes too much to resist? The uncut, steamy version is available now at patreon.com/hauda – along with early access to all new stories, extended epilogues, and more spicy content.
I watched him walk away, then let myself into my apartment. It looked smaller suddenly. Shabbier. Soon it wouldn’t be my space anymore. Soon I’d be living with Sebastian Santoro, my fake husband, in an arrangement that was supposed to be simple.
My phone buzzed. A text from Stella:
HOW DID THE THING GO???
I looked down at my ring, still warm from Seb’s touch during dinner.
I just got married, I typed back.
Three dots appeared immediately. Then:
WHAT
Long story. Tell you tomorrow.
I turned off my phone and fell onto my bed, still wearing my Target dress and my brand new wedding ring.
Mrs. Lina Moreno-Santoro.
What the hell had I just done?
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