The ring box felt heavy in Chloe’s hand, though it was no bigger than a cupcake. The velvet edges were soft, contrasting sharply with the stern expression of her boss, Graham Ashcroft, who leaned against his mahogany desk as if he’d just performed a task as mundane as signing a check. She blinked at the box, then at him.
“You can’t be serious,” she said, though a small, incredulous laugh slipped out.
Graham crossed his arms. His navy blue suit was so crisp it probably had a trust fund of its own. “Entirely serious. I need a fiancée. You’re my best option.”
“Option?” Chloe echoed, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Not even candidate, or, I don’t know, ‘the woman of my dreams’?”
Graham frowned, perplexed. “This isn’t about romance. My parents have been nagging me for years about settling down. If I show up with a fiancée, they’ll leave me alone for a while.”
Chloe stared, her disbelief mounting. “So, you’ve chosen me to, what, play Fake Fiancée: The Musical at your parents’ house this weekend?”
“Exactly,” he said as if the plan was a masterstroke. “You’re resourceful, you know how to handle people, and you’re already familiar with my schedule.” He ticked off each point on his fingers like he was presenting a quarterly report. “I’ll compensate you, of course.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Oh, of course. Can’t forget the compensation. And what if I say no?”
“Then I’ll have to deal with my parents interrogating me about my non-existent love life for 72 hours straight. Are you really that cruel?”
Her lips twitched. “It’s funny, I didn’t think your definition of cruelty included saying no to a fake proposal.”
“I’m serious, Chloe. Will you do it?”
She paused, considering. On the one hand, the whole idea was ridiculous. On the other… It was Graham. Sure, he was stiff and emotionally constipated, but she had spent two years watching cracks form in his armor—those rare moments when his sharp wit or dry humor slipped through his professional facade. Against her better judgment, she sighed.
“Fine. But only because I can’t let you ruin the Ashcroft name by showing up single.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. We leave tomorrow at eight sharp.”
Chloe smirked. “Don’t forget to tell your parents their new future daughter-in-law prefers waffles over pancakes.”
The Ashcroft estate was the kind of place where people whispered the word rich as if it were a sacred prayer. Marble columns lined the front entrance, and the sprawling gardens looked curated by a god with a green thumb.
Chloe stepped out of Graham’s sleek car, suddenly aware of her thrift-store heels. “You grew up here? And you turned out like that?”
“Focus, Chloe,” Graham said, his eyes darting nervously to the front door. “You’re madly in love with me. Remember that.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure to act mad, all right.”
They barely made it inside before Graham’s parents descended on them. Margaret Ashcroft, all pearls and perfectly coiffed silver hair, beamed. “Graham! Darling! And… who is this lovely young lady?”
“This is Chloe,” Graham said, slipping an arm around her waist with the stiffness of a mannequin. “My fiancée.”
Margaret gasped, clasping her hands together. “Engaged! At last!”
Chloe, suppressing a grin at Graham’s awkwardness, turned on the charm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ashcroft. Graham’s told me so much about you.”
“Oh, please, call me Margaret,” she cooed. “And this is my husband, Walter.”
Walter Ashcroft, a stately man with a kind smile, gave Chloe a once-over that felt less like judgment and more like curiosity. “Graham, I hope you realize you’re punching above your weight.”
“Every day, sir,” Chloe said sweetly, and Margaret laughed delightedly.
As the weekend unfolded, Chloe found herself leaning into the role with unexpected glee. She teased Graham during family meals, whispered cheeky asides when his mother showed her childhood photos, and even managed to coax him into dancing at the garden party. To her surprise, Graham played along better than she expected, his rare smiles making her heart do flips she didn’t care to analyze.
But the following morning, everything unraveled.
As sunlight poured into the Ashcroft estate, Chloe stared at her reflection in the guestroom’s gilded mirror. Her fingers traced the outline of the engagement ring she’d agreed to wear for the weekend, its gleaming surface feeling heavier than ever.
What am I doing? she thought. Pretending to love a man who might not even know how to love. Sure, Graham had moments—his apology on the terrace last night, the way his smile had softened when they danced—but was it real? Did he even know?
Her musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. Graham walked in, looking polished as always but with an edge of hesitation.
“We should head down,” he said. “My parents are expecting us for breakfast.”
Chloe crossed her arms, the unspoken tension between them thickening. “I’m not sure I can face another round of ‘Chloe, you’re the best thing to ever happen to Graham’ without laughing out loud.”
He frowned. “Is that what this is about? You think it’s a joke?”
She sighed, feeling the words spill out before she could stop them. “Of course it’s a joke, Graham. Look at us. You needed a fiancée, and I’m just convenient.”
The sharpness of her tone startled even herself, but Graham’s jaw tightened. “Convenient?” he repeated. “You think that’s why I asked you?”
“Yes!” Chloe snapped. “Because God forbid Graham Ashcroft has to explain to his perfect parents that he’s too busy running his empire to actually feel something real.”
Graham’s face darkened. “And what about you, Chloe? You’re so quick to mock everything and dismiss this as fake. Maybe because the idea of someone actually loving you terrifies you.”
His words struck a nerve so deep she flinched. “Don’t you dare psychoanalyze me, Graham.”
“Then stop acting like I’m the only one hiding something.”
Silence fell between them, brittle and suffocating. Chloe turned away, her throat tight. “I can’t do this.”
“Chloe—”
“I need space,” she said, her voice trembling. “Tell your parents I’m not feeling well.”
Margaret Ashcroft found Graham pacing the library an hour later, his tie loosened and his usually immaculate composure fraying at the edges. She watched him for a moment before stepping inside.
“You’re going to wear a hole in that rug, darling.”
Graham stopped, startled. “Mother.”
She sat on a plush armchair, gesturing for him to join her. “You and Chloe had a fight.”
He sat reluctantly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. She’ll come around.”
Margaret tilted her head, studying him. “You’re worried. That’s not like you.”
“I’m not worried,” he said stiffly.
Margaret smiled gently. “Graham, I’ve known you your entire life. You only pace when you care about something—or someone.”
Graham hesitated, his polished armor cracking. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
Margaret leaned forward, her voice soft. “You can’t fix something if you’re pretending it’s broken. Do you love her?”
The question hit him like a freight train. Love. He thought of Chloe’s laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him, how she made his life feel less rigid, more alive.
“Yes,” he said quietly, the weight of the truth sinking in. “I love her.”
Margaret smiled. “Then stop treating this as a business arrangement. Go tell her.”
Meanwhile, Walter Ashcroft found Chloe sitting by the garden fountain, her arms hugging her knees. He approached carefully, his calm presence soothing.
“May I join you?” he asked.
Chloe shrugged, wiping at her cheeks. “Sure. Why not?”
He sat beside her, the silence between them easy. Finally, he spoke. “Graham told me about your arrangement.”
Chloe stiffened. “Oh. That’s… mortifying.”
Walter chuckled. “Not really. Love has a way of sneaking up on us, even in the strangest circumstances.”
She looked at him, surprised. “You think this is love?”
He nodded. “I’ve seen the way Graham looks at you. My son is many things, but subtle isn’t one of them.”
Chloe’s throat tightened. “I don’t know if I can trust it. Or him. Or myself, really.”
Walter’s gaze softened. “Why?”
She hesitated, then sighed. “Because I’ve been here before. Believing in someone, letting myself care… only to find out I was just a convenience.”
“Someone hurt you,” he said simply.
Chloe nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s easier not to hope. Less painful.”
Walter rested a hand on her shoulder. “Chloe, life’s too short for easy. If you love him—and I think you do—take the risk. The man I know Graham can be is worth it.”
That evening, Chloe found Graham on the terrace, the place where so much had begun. He turned as she approached, his expression unreadable.
“Chloe,” he started, but she held up a hand.
“Let me go first,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “I’ve been scared. Scared to let myself believe this could be real. Scared to trust you. But the truth is… I’m falling for you, Graham.”
His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked utterly vulnerable. “Chloe, I—”
She cut him off with a small smile. “And before you say anything, if you’re about to confess that this whole thing is still fake, I’m walking off this terrace and never looking back.”
He chuckled, a sound full of relief and something else—joy. “It’s not fake,” he said, stepping closer. “Not for me.”
She held her breath as he cupped her face, his touch gentle but sure. “I love you, Chloe. I think I’ve loved you longer than I realized.”
The world seemed to still as she let his words sink in. Then, without hesitation, she kissed him, her doubts melting away.
Two months later, at a small, intimate wedding in the Ashcroft garden, Chloe whispered to Graham as they cut the cake.
“Do you think your parents ever figured out how this all started?”
He smirked. “Does it matter?”
“Not at all,” she said, smiling. “It wouldn’t be called a treat otherwise.”
myHellian Romance 