Chapter 2 Dearest Boss

I kept pulling the left strap of my wedding dress up; I was so anxious about showing a mouthful of cleavage. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of today. I’m the bride—it’s my wedding. I’ll be Mrs. Montgomery in an hour.

If this had happened a few years ago, I probably would’ve jumped in excitement until I was breathless. Yet now, nothing felt true. I wasn’t marrying for the right reasons, not for love—at least not mutual love. I loved Cillian, the modern version of my King.

“Oh my gosh, Sloane sweetheart, I knew you were beautiful before, but right now, you are stunning.”

Melanie Montgomery, the mother of the groom.

How did she even get here? I didn’t see her come in; I was lost in my thoughts.

I curved my lips into a polite smile. She didn’t know the real reason I was marrying her only child. They say, fake it till you make it, but to me, it was more like fake it till you break. I would hurt myself for Cillian. My stupidity levels were as high as a NASA rocket—full of risks, no stops.

“Thank you, ma’am. You’re so kind.”

She laughed heartily and looked at me like I’d grown another head. Melanie had always been friendly to me. From what I saw, she had a warm, motherly bond with Cillian.

“Stop calling me ma’am and start calling me mom—or mother. I expect only those two. Seriously, Sloane, I’ve noticed how Cillian looks at you. I was never wrong; my boy is really into you.”

Her eyes lit up, and my chest tightened. By agreeing to this sham, I was lying to her, to him, and to myself. The horror of him discovering who I truly was made my stomach churn.

Wait, what? Cillian is into me?

What is this—a sitcom? A bad joke following another? There’s no way in hell that man was into me.

“You’re right; he’s obsessed with me.”

Atta girl, lie.

God, I was starting to hate this. I wasn’t wired to be a pathological liar or a manipulator.

“I’ll see you out there,” she said, kissing my cheek. She gave my back a gentle tap before leaving.

Beads of sweat formed on my forehead.

My reflection in the mirror was divine. My creamy ivory skin glistened under the warm lights, and my brunette hair cascaded down my shoulders in soft, perfect waves.

Melanie was right—I happened to be stunning.

Everyone’s eyes were on us as the ceremony began.

“Do you, Cillian King Montgomery, take Sloane Grace Lewis as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

He was looking at me like he actually wanted to marry me—or maybe I was just overwhelmed and reading too much into it.

Of course, I said I do.

“Are you sure leaving the reception this early is okay?”

“Yes. It’s our wedding night, Sloane. Everyone there was hoping we’d leave.”

I did it. I married Cillian—the man of my dreams, the man I loved, the man I’d die for all over again.

I glanced at the wedding band on my finger. The tiny cuts of diamonds sparkled under the car lights—solid proof that this was real.

Cillian hadn’t kissed my full lips during the ceremony, just the side of them, yet his touch lingered. That half-kiss carried both joy and a thousand lies.

I was the candle; he was the fire. He lit me ablaze, and even the cold air inside the car couldn’t calm me down.

I had waited lifetimes for him—to hold him again, even in the shadows of disguise.

“You can drop me here; I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.”

Cillian didn’t answer. He pulled over.

I tried to open the passenger door of his McLaren, but it was locked. Tension knotted in my stomach.

“The car door, please?” My voice came out small and nervous.

Cillian turned to me, matching my gaze.

“Have you read the entire contract?” he asked casually.

I nodded, a pang of dread rising in my chest. To him, I was nothing more than a transaction—paper, ink, and obligation. I missed the past version of him, the man who loved me without knowing why.

“Page three, section four,” he said flatly. “We consummate our marriage on the night of the wedding.”

I wanted to scream. I wasn’t going home tonight. He wouldn’t let me.

I was going to lose my virginity to him—something I’d literally signed up for.

I envied how composed he looked, while I sat there trembling, trapped, foolishly hoping for a time capsule to take us back to when he loved me.

“What about my stuff?” Be casual, Sloane. Don’t show fear.

“I made arrangements this morning. The rest of your things will be delivered tomorrow.”

Of course, he did. Always one step ahead.

I signed the contract. We married. We moved in together. And now came the consummation clause—his words, not mine.

My life had changed in just twenty-four hours, and yet I was still here, a willing participant.

I’d been to his home many times before. The main gate had four guards, and we entered through the road that curved near the lake. His estate was breathtaking—tranquil, vast, and intimidating.

My husband might be a control freak, but he’d mastered the art of solitude.

When we pulled into the driveway, one of his men opened the massive front door.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery.”

I puffed a laugh. “Please, just call me Sloane.”

Cillian glanced at me, his eyes unreadable—cold, calculated, empty.

“Is it so bad to be called by my name, Mrs. Montgomery?”

I shook my head. My feet were killing me, and arguing with him would only prolong my suffering. Being called Mrs. Montgomery should’ve felt like an honor, but it was just a title on paper.

“Oh.”

My body suddenly lifted. Cillian was carrying me bridal-style in his strong arms. He smelled like fresh wood and clean shaving cream—like a man who’d never lost control. My face pressed against his neck before I could stop it.

“Careful, wife. I have no plans to consummate our marriage on the stairs, in front of the staff.”

I stiffened, turning my gaze away. He was teasing me again. And I liked it.

A lot.

“Put me down, Cillian.”

This was it—my last life. All or nothing. He had to remember me, or I’d fade like foam in the wind.

The time had come to take over. I was done letting him rule my head, my body, and my soul. For what it was worth, I was taking myself back.

He looked confused, his hold tightening slightly. I leaned closer, my fingertips brushing his face.

“Every look, every kiss, and every touch is nothing but a lie, Cillian. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He froze, and I took the chance to slip away.

I closed the guest room door behind me and leaned against it, exhaling deeply.

I swore I wouldn’t give up. Not this time.

I was done being his savior in my seventh life.

I would catch myself when I fell.

I would fight the devil—

even if the devil was my own husband