Chapter 27 Be My Fake Wife
Raphael's POV
I watched Vivienne's face carefully as my words hung in the air between us.
"My fake wife... for at least a year!" The hallway suddenly felt smaller, quieter, like the whole world was waiting for her response.
She blinked at me several times, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to find words but couldn't quite catch them. I could see her mind working, trying to make sense of what I had just asked her.
"Fake wife?" she finally repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Raphael, what are you talking about?"
I ran my hand through my hair, feeling nervous in a way I hadn't felt in years. Here I was, a successful businessman who made million-dollar deals without breaking a sweat, and I was stumbling over my words in front of this woman.
"Can we go inside and talk?" I asked, gesturing toward her room. "This isn't really a hallway conversation."
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. She pushed open her door and we both stepped inside. The room was cozy and warm, with soft lighting that made everything feel more intimate. She sat down on the edge of her bed, and I took a seat in the chair by her desk, facing her.
"Okay," she said, folding her hands in her lap. "Explain."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "I don't know what came over me tonight. Maybe it was the kiss we just shared.
Maybe it was the way we danced together earlier, or the way your fingers felt on my chest at the club. Or the shots we took. But something made me realize that you're the only person I can ask to help me with this."
"Help you with what, exactly?" she asked, her eyes searching my face.
I took a deep breath and started from the beginning. "Remember I told you that my family who happens to work in my company wants me to get married.”
She nodded. "Of course. I remember but that has nothing to do with me Raphael. Marriage is huge and I'm not even sure I'm ready, not today, not tomorrow.”
"Well, the board of trustees—these people who are supposed to work for me—they've decided that I need to get married," I said, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.
"And according to them, my reputation as a bachelor is hurting the company's image. They think clients and investors don't trust a man who hasn't settled down. They want me to show stability, responsibility, all that nonsense."
"That's ridiculous," Vivienne said, shaking her head. "It's your personal life. What does that have to do with running a business?"
"I know," I agreed. "But they don't care. They've made it very clear—if I want to keep my position as CEO of the company I created with my own hands, I need to get married. Soon."
Vivienne sat back, processing this information. "How soon?"
"They gave me six months," I said. "But I want to do it sooner, to get them off my back."
She was quiet for a moment, her fingers playing with the edge of her blanket. "So you want me to pretend to be your wife? Is that what you're asking?"
"Yes," I said simply. "I need someone I can trust, someone who won't try to take advantage of the situation. Someone private and calm, who won't make this more complicated than it needs to be.
And when I think about all the women I know, you're the only one who fits."
“If you need someone private and calm, I can actually look for someone that fits that description but I'm not even interested, Raphael. Please understand,” she pleaded.
"And we barely even know each other," she pointed out. "We just met a few weeks ago."
"I know," I admitted. "But in those few weeks, I've learned enough about you to know that you're different from everyone else in my world. You're genuine. You don't want anything from me. You're not impressed by the money or the power. You just... you're just you."
She looked down at her hands, thinking. The silence stretched between us, and I could feel my heart beating faster with each passing second.
"How would this even work?" she finally asked, looking up at me.
I felt a spark of hope. She was saying no.
But it wasn't strong. She was asking questions, which meant she was at least considering it.
"We would get married—just on paper, nothing real," I explained. "We'd live together for appearances. Attend some company events together, maybe a few public outings. Make it look convincing to the board and anyone else who might be watching. After a year, maybe a little more, we'd quietly divorce. I'd make sure you're well taken care of financially for your time and trouble."
"Financially?" she repeated, her tone uncertain.
"I'm not trying to buy you," I said quickly. "I just want to make sure this arrangement is fair for you too. You'd be doing me an enormous favor, helping me keep my company. It's only right that you get something out of it as well."
Vivienne stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the dark night sky. I stayed in my chair, giving her space to think. I could see her reflection in the glass, her face serious and thoughtful.
"This is crazy," she said softly.
"I know it is," I agreed. "Believe me, if there was any other way, I wouldn't be asking. But I've thought about this from every angle, and this is the only solution I can come up with that doesn't involve actually marrying someone I don't love."
She turned around to face me. "And what happens if one of us meets someone? Someone we actually want to be with?"
"Then we end the arrangement early," I said. "I'm not trying to trap you, Vivienne. This would be a business deal between two people who respect each other.
We'd set clear boundaries and rules. When it's over, we both walk away and go back to our normal lives."
"A business deal," she repeated quietly, like she was testing out the words.
"Yes," I confirmed. "Nothing more, nothing less."
She crossed her arms and looked at me with those beautiful eyes. "You kissed me in the hallway. That didn't feel like a business deal."
I felt my cheeks grow warm. "I know. I'm sorry if that confused things. I got caught up in the moment. But if you agree to this, we can keep things as professional or as... comfortable as you want them to be. You'd be in control of those boundaries."
"This is a lot to think about," she said, moving back to sit on her bed. “I need time Raphael to think about it, I need to know what I'm doing.”
"I know it is," I said gently. "And I'm not expecting an answer right now. Take your time. Think about it. Ask me any questions you have. I'll be completely honest with you about everything."
She looked at me for a long moment, and I couldn't quite read her expression. Was she angry? Confused? Intrigued? Maybe all three?.
"Why me, Raphael?" she asked finally. "Really. There must be dozens of women who would jump at this chance. Women you've known longer, women in your social circle who understand your world better."
I leaned back in the chair and considered her question carefully. She deserved a real answer.
"Because those women would make it complicated," I said honestly. "They'd see this as an opportunity to actually become my wife, to get their hooks into my money and my life permanently.
They'd fall in love with the lifestyle, if not with me, and they'd fight the divorce when the time came. Or they'd use the position to gain social status and connections, making promises in my name that I'd have to deal with later."
I paused, making sure she was listening.
"But you," I continued, "you didn't even know who I was when we first met, remember? You treated me like a regular person. You're not impressed by wealth or status. You have your own life, your own goals. I trust that you'd actually stick to the agreement and walk away when it's done.
And honestly? After spending time with you these past few weeks, you're the only person I think I could actually live with for a year without losing my mind."
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."
"It's definitely a compliment," I assured her, smiling back. "You're easy to be around, Vivienne. That's rare for me."
She nodded slowly, seeming to accept this. "What would your family think? Your friends?"