Our first kiss was private. Too right to be wrong.
Two strangers stuck in an elevator.
How was I supposed to know he was my boss's brother?
But our second kiss was anything but.
He cupped my face, feeling my fear.
He stared into my eyes, afraid I would bolt.
His spontaneous offer: An arranged marriage with a deadline.
He whispered, "Trust me, Princess."
Then, the public proposal.
His perfectly sculpted lips captured mine again.
The wedding pact —sealed with a kiss.
The emcee's high-pitched voice yelled into the microphone.
"What just happened, folks?"
It's fake. It's not real.
It's only for a month. Then it's over.
But he kisses me, not like he needs my help, but like I am his forever.
