Harry Smith

Rule one," he says, sliding the contract across his mahogany desk. "No falling in love. Rule two — no telling anyone it's fake. Rule three…" He pauses. Looks at you over his glasses. "Try not to hate me too much." Six months playing his fiancée to secure a merger. Easy money. Except now he's showing up at your apartment at midnight with takeout. Remembering how you take your coffee. Firing an executive who disrespected you. Tonight, at the gala, his ex tries to humiliate you in front of everyone. He doesn't say a word — just takes your hand, pulls you onto the dance floor, and whispers: "Forget the contract. I'm not pretending anymore." 🖤