CHAPTER 122: TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

Alexia

I woke to the scent of him—warm skin and something faintly smoky, like last night still clung to the sheets.

His arm was slung across my waist, heavy and possessive in the most delicious way. For a second, I stayed still, eyes closed, letting myself drift in that floaty space between sleep and waking.

Then I felt it.

A kiss.

Pressed right to my shoulder.

And another.

Then a third, this one followed by an exaggerated sigh that sounded suspiciously like a happy puppy after belly rubs.

I cracked one eye open.

Aiden was grinning. Full teeth. Dimples. Eyes crinkled at the corners.

"What," I croaked, "are you smiling about like that?"

He beamed at me like I’d hung the stars in his sky. "You." He kissed my shoulder again. "Everything. Life."

I narrowed my eyes. "Okay. Weird. Did you secretly win the lottery last night?"

"Nope," he said, utterly unbothered. "I already have everything I want."

My stomach did a weird flip. I sat up a little, tugging the sheet with me. "You’re being... suspiciously romantic. Did we switch bodies? Is this some kind of freaky Friday thing?"

He laughed, and my heart did a traitorous stutter.

Then he said it. "I’m just really happy you said it. That’s all."

My brain short-circuited.

"Said what?"

He blinked at me, grin still firmly in place. "You know... I love you."

I stared at him.

"No, I—wait. I said that?" My voice pitched a little higher. "Out loud?"

His grin widened.

"Oh my god," I whispered, face heating. "No I didn’t."

"Oh, babe," he said, eyes dancing. "You so did."

I stared at him, wide-eyed, heart slamming in my chest.

"No," I said again, voice barely above a whisper. "No, I—I didn’t mean to say that. I was half-asleep. I was out of it. It doesn’t count."

Aiden’s brows lifted slightly, and that ridiculously gorgeous smile softened.

"Alexia..."

"I mean, people say weird things when they’re—" I fumbled, pushing hair out of my face like that might untangle the mess in my brain. "It was just... post-orgasm brain fog or something. You can’t take that seriously."

"But I do," he said gently, sitting up on one elbow beside me. "Because I know you. You’re not careless with words, especially not that one."

I opened my mouth, then shut it. Damn him. Damn his soft voice and stupid understanding eyes and the way he always saw me.

"Hey," he said, fingers brushing mine under the sheet. "It doesn’t have to be scary, Lex. It’s just the truth. And for what it’s worth..." He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my shoulder. "I meant it too. Every word I said last night on that walk? I didn’t just say it to say it. I love you."

I closed my eyes, his voice sinking deep into places I usually kept locked tight.

"I’m not running," he added. "I’m not going anywhere."

Something inside me cracked.

God.

How did he always do that? Tear down every defense I thought I had just by being him?

I looked at him, really looked—and whatever protest was still clinging to the back of my throat dissolved.

He leaned closer, nose brushing mine, voice a whisper. "Let me show you how much."

And when he kissed me—slow, reverent, like I was something holy—I let myself fall all over again.

His lips moved from mine, slow and sure, trailing heat along the line of my jaw, down the curve of my neck. I sucked in a breath as his hand slid beneath the sheet, fingers brushing the bare skin of my thigh, teasing the edge before skimming higher.

"Aiden..." I breathed, already trembling under his touch.

"I’ve got you," he murmured against my collarbone. "Let me take care of you."

And God, the way he said it—like worship, like promise—it made my chest ache.

His mouth claimed mine again, deeper this time, as his hand found the place that made my hips jerk and my breath hitch. He knew exactly how to touch me, how to unravel me without rushing, without taking. Just giving.

Loving.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, pressing every inch of my body against his. I needed him like air. Like water. Like something more primal, more essential.

He moved over me, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on mine as if he wanted to feel every second with me, see it all. There was no hiding, no shielding. Not from him. Not anymore.

When he entered me, I gasped—because somehow, it felt even more intense than last night. Slower. Deeper. Like our bodies were speaking the truth our hearts had only just admitted.

His name fell from my lips like a prayer.

He held my face as he moved, whispered things I could barely process—how beautiful I was, how much he adored me, how long he’d waited for this. For me.

I clung to him, overwhelmed, undone.

We came together like that—tangled, trembling, breathless. No walls. No doubt. Just the kind of love that scorched and healed all at once.

And afterward, when he pulled me into his arms, when he kissed my temple and whispered, "You’re everything to me," I didn’t try to take it back.

Because I knew it was real.

All of it.

Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, golden and lazy, draping everything in a kind of dreamlike haze. I lay tangled in the sheets, tucked against Aiden’s chest, his heartbeat steady under my cheek.

Neither of us had moved much. There was no rush. No emails. No press. Just... us.

His fingers were drawing soft, mindless circles on my lower back, the kind that made it really hard to keep my eyes open.

"Hmm," I murmured, stretching slightly. "If this is how all your business trips end, I fully support your career."

Aiden chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Noted. I’ll inform my assistant that all future meetings require presidential suites and my stunning wife in bed."

I smacked his chest, laughing despite myself. "Contract wife."

"Sure," he said, nuzzling my temple. "Just keep telling yourself that."

He tilted my chin up and kissed me—slow and sweet, lips lingering like he had nowhere else to be.

God, he made it so hard to remember this wasn’t supposed to be real.

We eventually wandered into the massive marble bathroom together, all low giggles and lazy touches. He washed my hair like it was some kind of love language. I repaid him by slipping my hands under the soap-slick water and distracting him in a very... thorough way.

By the time we emerged, wrapped in towels and flushed with warmth, I felt weightless. Like we were living in a different world—one where everything made sense.

But Aiden glanced at his watch as he poured us coffee, and the spell cracked just slightly.

"We’ve got a few hours left," he said, handing me a mug. "Car picks us up at six."

I blinked. "Wait. We’re leaving today?"

"Yeah." He looked at me over the rim of his cup. "Back to the city. Back to real life."

My stomach twisted. Not because I wasn’t ready to go—but because I wasn’t sure what going back meant

anymore.

Not after everything that happened here.

Not after him.

The restaurant was tucked away on the rooftop of the hotel, quiet and elegant, with a panoramic view of the city skyline. The kind of place that didn’t need to impress because it already knew it did.

We sat at a small table shaded by white linen umbrellas, a gentle breeze playing with the hem of my sundress. Aiden reached for my hand across the table without a word, his thumb brushing slow circles over my knuckles like he just needed to touch me.

"You’re quiet," he said after a moment, eyes searching mine. "Thinking about going back?"

I nodded, glancing out at the glass and steel horizon. "It just feels... strange. Like we stepped out of reality for a second, and now we have to pretend this"—I gestured between us—"didn’t happen."

He tilted his head, lips quirking in that crooked half-smile that always did something dangerous to my heart.

"Why pretend?" he asked softly. "It did happen."

Our drinks arrived—iced tea for me, black coffee for him—and the silence between us filled with unsaid things.

He leaned back in his chair, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, the late afternoon sun lighting him up like he was carved out of gold.

"Lex," he said gently, "when I look at you now, I don’t see the woman I married on paper. I see the woman who wrecks me with a look, who makes me want things I’ve never let myself want. Who loves me, whether she’s ready to admit it or not."

My breath caught, and my fork paused halfway to my mouth.

He grinned. "Just saying... if we’re pretending anything, it’s that this marriage is still just a contract."

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips gave me away.

"You’re ridiculously smooth."

"I know. It’s one of my many charms." He leaned forward, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "But if I’m being honest? I’m going to miss this. You. Like hell."

A lump rose in my throat. I pushed my food around my plate, heart thudding.

"I’ll miss it too," I whispered.

And when he reached across the table to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingered. "Then maybe we stop pretending when we get back."

******

The hum of the engines beneath my feet always made my chest tighten. I hated this part. The waiting. The ascent. That weightless drop in your stomach when the plane leaves the earth like it shouldn’t be able to. No matter how luxurious the surroundings were—or how private the jet—we were still hurtling into the sky at hundreds of miles an hour, and my body knew it.

Aiden seemed to sense it before I even said a word.

As the flight attendant disappeared behind the velvet curtain and the lights dimmed slightly, he turned toward me, hand already reaching. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t smirk or tease me about it like he had in the past.

He just kissed me.

Soft. Gentle. A grounding press of lips to mine.

I barely breathed. My fingers curled into his shirt, clinging.

"I’ve got you," he murmured, voice low against my mouth. "You’re okay. I’m here."

And I believed him.

We didn’t speak again until the plane leveled out. By then, my nails had left half-moon impressions in his hand, and his thumb was lazily stroking across my wrist.

"You didn’t flinch this time," he said, a little amused.

"Because you kissed me mid-trauma," I muttered.

He grinned. "Highly effective distraction."

I was about to make a comment—probably something snarky about weaponized affection—when he stood up and stretched, offering me a hand. "Come with me."

I blinked. "To where? We’re already on the plane."

"There’s a bedroom in the back," he said casually, like that was a normal sentence people threw around. "We’ve got a few hours. I figured we could sleep."

My brain stuttered. "There’s a bedroom

?"

He arched a brow. "Did you think the President’s Suite was limited to hotels?"

I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet.

The bedroom wasn’t extravagant, but it was still stunning—cream and walnut tones, low ambient lighting, a proper bed with downy pillows, and thick blankets that looked like they cost more than my car.

When I hesitated at the edge, Aiden raised both hands like he was trying not to spook a wild animal. "No funny business," he said lightly. "I swear. I just want to sleep. Been running on fumes all weekend."

That, I believed. Beneath the polish and the smirks, I could see it now—how tired he was. His shoulders were drawn tighter than usual, his jaw lined with tension. Something in his eyes flickered... distant. Shadowed.

I nodded and crawled into the bed, curling beneath the blanket as he slid in beside me. The mattress dipped under his weight, and then his arm was around me, strong and sure, pulling me into him like I belonged there.

"You always sleep like this with your contract wife?" I murmured.

He huffed a soft breath against my hair. "Only the ones who make my heart stop every time they look at me."

And just like that, I melted into him.

I didn’t know how long we’d been asleep when I woke.

At first, I thought it was turbulence. The bed was shifting, the air suddenly colder. But then I heard it.

His voice.

No—not his voice. Not like I’d ever heard it before.

Aiden was thrashing beside me, the blanket twisted around his legs, his face contorted in a way that sent ice through my veins.

"No—stop—get off me—" His words were slurred, strangled, like they were being dragged out of him.

I sat up, heart pounding. "Aiden?"

He didn’t hear me.

His arms jerked violently, one hand clawing at the air, the other gripping the sheet like a lifeline. Sweat beaded across his forehead. His chest rose and fell in frantic, shallow bursts.

I reached for him. "Aiden—hey—wake up, it’s okay, it’s just a dream—"

My fingers brushed his shoulder.

His eyes snapped open.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t breathe. Didn’t move.

Then he exploded.

He shoved me away so fast I hit the headboard with a yelp, breath knocked out of me.

His eyes locked on mine—wild, unfocused, filled with a rage I didn’t understand.

"Don’t touch me!" he hissed, his voice laced with raw terror and something darker—rage, confusion, fear. He glared at me, his face pale in the dim light.

I froze, hurt and frightened. The man who had held me close only hours ago now recoiled as though I were a stranger.

The words were spat with such venom it made me flinch. He sat upright, chest heaving, eyes darting like he didn’t know where he was.

"Aiden, it’s me," I whispered, stunned.

But he wasn’t hearing me. Not really.

His jaw clenched. His hands were fists in his lap. Every inch of him was tight, vibrating with fury.

"I said don’t—fucking—touch me," he bit out.

I froze.

Shock rooted me in place, swallowing whatever words had started to form in my throat. My hand still hovered midair, trembling slightly. He looked at it like it was something toxic.

And then the worst part—his expression cracked. Not softened. Not healed.

Just... broke.

Like whatever mask he wore had slipped, and all that was left beneath it was raw, blistering pain.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood, back to me, fingers digging into his hair. For a moment, he swayed like he might collapse.

I stayed quiet. Still. Waiting for something—anything—to make sense.

But all I got was silence.

I finally found my voice, barely above a whisper. "Aiden... you were having a nightmare. I was trying to help—"

"Don’t." His voice was flat now. Dead. "Just—don’t."

He turned then, and the look on his face slammed into me like a punch to the gut.

All that warmth from earlier? Gone.

In its place was something hollow. Something hard.