Click.
Aiden Reed locked his phone screen and slipped it into his jeans pocket like he'd just encrypted national secrets. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, eyes fixed on Manhattan's glittering skyline.
Classic distraction move. Tactical retreat. Strategic indifference.
Behind him, the bedroom door creaked open.
"What are you doing?" Valeria asked sharply.
He didn't turn around. "Admiring the skyline," he said, as if the Empire State Building had just confessed its feelings to him.
She crossed her arms. "Funny. From the hallway, it looked like you were stashing something like a guilty teenager."
"I was clearing notifications."
She raised a brow.
"Lots of them."
He glanced past her shoulder. The crew had finally left after the whole 'surprise wedding reveal' debacle. Now it was just the two of them again, and the silence felt heavier than before.
"How'd everything go?" he asked casually. "You know… endorsements, agents, nuclear fallout?"
"You mean the career you may have accidentally torched?"
"That's the one."
She kicked off her heels and walked past him with an air of calm that almost felt staged. "A couple brands dropped out. A magazine canceled an upcoming shoot. Some PR teams are in full meltdown mode."
He stiffened. "Valeria…"
"But," she said, spinning on her heel, "if their loyalty hinged on me being single, they were never worth my time. Let them panic. I'll rebuild twice as strong."
Aiden blinked, caught off guard. "You're just… okay with that?"
She gave him a half-smile. "I've dealt with worse than a few canceled contracts."
He studied her face. For all the designer heels and red carpet poses, Valeria Quinn wasn't made of glass. She was steel wrapped in velvet.
"Good," he muttered. "Let 'em regret it."
"Oh, and by the way," she said, heading upstairs, "you'll need something decent for tomorrow."
"Why?"
"You're meeting my parents."
Aiden nearly tripped over the rug.
"Excuse me—what?"
But she'd already disappeared around the corner.
Panic set in. He raced up the stairs two at a time. The second floor felt like a maze of doors, all of them closed, each one a trap.
First door—bedroom. Empty.
Second—bathroom. Empty.
Third—
"Get the hell out!"
He slammed the door shut and backed away like he'd just wandered into a crime scene.
Okay. Dressing room. Definitely off-limits.
He stood outside, pacing. "Valeria! You can't just spring this on me. Meeting your parents is... huge!"
Behind the door, her voice rang out, calm and amused. "We're legally married, Reed. Meeting the parents is just good manners."
"That's not how normal people do things!"
Click.
The door opened.
Out stepped Valeria, now dressed in an ivory turtleneck that hugged her in all the right places, black leather leggings, and knee-high boots. Her honey-brown hair was tied in a loose bun, a few strands framing her face like they'd been styled by divine intervention.
She grabbed her coat with one hand and tossed him a wink. "Better get used to surprises. This is just the tutorial level."
Aiden muttered something under his breath about drama queens and followed her to the underground garage.
A powder-blue Mini Cooper sat waiting for them. A Hello Kitty sticker stared at him from the back bumper like a silent dare.
"You seriously drive this?" he asked, deadpan.
"Mock it and you walk."
Fair enough.
They pulled into the underground lot of Hudson Galleria a few minutes later—a luxury shopping haven glittering with upscale boutiques, gourmet bakeries, and more security cameras than a Vegas casino.
Grrrrgle.
Aiden's stomach growled in the echo of the concrete garage.
"Okay," he said. "Food first. I'm running on fumes."
Valeria slipped on a face mask. "Craving anything?"
"Meat. Fatty, greasy, unapologetically American meat."
"My treat," she said.
"Yeah, no thanks. Last time you paid, I wound up in a marriage."
She snorted behind her mask.
Inside, the mall shimmered with polished marble and ambient lighting. They found a sleek bistro on the second floor—gold lighting, velvet booths, soft jazz, and couples pretending their wine wasn't overpriced.
Aiden ordered filet mignon and barbecue ribs like a man fresh out of boot camp. Valeria, naturally, opted for quinoa salad and sparkling water.
The waiter paused just a beat too long after taking their orders, like he recognized one of them but wasn't sure which. Then he walked off.
Valeria leaned in, grinning. "Drink? I owe you from this morning."
"I'm still recovering from the last one," Aiden said. "I take one sip around you and wake up legally bound."
She laughed, and for a moment, it felt... easy.
But it didn't last.
He noticed the shift before she did. The whispers. The subtle glances. The waiter sneaking a second peek.
Then came the girl in the faux-fur coat.
She approached like she was walking a tightrope, phone clutched tight. "Sorry to bother you… are you Valeria Quinn?"
Valeria smiled beneath her mask. "I am."
The girl's knees practically gave out. "Can I please get a picture? I'm such a huge fan."
"Of course," Valeria said, adjusting slightly.
One photo became two. Then three. Then came the autograph requests. More fans trickled in—tote bags outstretched, makeup touched up, phones prepped.
Aiden sat back and watched.
She was radiant. Unshaken. Smiling with practiced ease. Even in chaos, she held herself like a queen.
Eventually, the crowd thinned. Valeria returned to her seat, cheeks slightly flushed.
"You good?" he asked.
"Always."
"You know," she added, brushing a crumb off her sleeve, "if this keeps happening, you'll never get a quiet dinner with me again."
"Why would I want that?" he said, leaning back. "Let the world know I landed a superstar."
She blinked. "Are you suicidal or just stupid?"
Before he could answer, the waiter returned with their meals.
Aiden whipped out his phone and angled the camera. Perfect framing—dinner in the foreground, Valeria slightly blurred but glowing.
"Smile," he said.
She raised an eyebrow but obliged.
Click.
She watched him tap away at his phone like he was crafting a masterpiece. "What are you doing?"
"Posting it."
"To who?"
"The world."
Valeria nearly dropped her fork. "Are you insane?"
"Too late," he said, grinning. "Hashtag: MarriedUp."
She buried her face in her hands. "You're going to get us canceled."
He took a bite of his ribs, still smiling. "Maybe. But at least we'll trend doing it."