"It feels pretty important.”
"What's important," he says, his voice hardening again, "is that we are married. We are trending on Instagram. And you start working for me on Monday."
“Jesus. To be honest, at this point? I don’t know if I even want the job anymore.”
"Too late. The offer letter is legally binding."
"Of course it is."
I laugh, the sound coming out half-hyena, and Victor lets me go, releasing my wrist.
Instinctively, I move to rub it, and his face softens, lips parting as he watches me.
But whatever Victor Kade might have been ready to say dies the second a strong knocks sounds against the door.
"Room service!" a cheerful voice calls. "Complimentary 'Just Married Gamers' breakfast! Courtesy of the Game Over Chapel!"
We both stare at the door in horror.
"Don't answer it," I hiss.
"They have a key," he says through gritted teeth.
"What?"
The door opens, and in wheels a housekeeper with a cart covered with a white tablecloth. On top of it: pancakes shaped like Pac-Man, bacon arranged to spell "GAME OVER," and two champagne flutes in arcade-style plastic cups.
"Good morning, newlyweds!" she chirps. "How are we feeling today?"
"We're not—" I start.
"We're fine," Victor cuts in smoothly, and just like that the CEO mask is back on. "Thank you. You can just leave the cart."
"Oh, but I need to take your photo for the chapel's Instagram! It's part of the Ultimate Gamer Package."
Victor's eye twitches—the only sign of his irritation. "That won't be necessary."
"It's included in your purchase," she says, already pulling out a phone. "You paid for the premium package! Now let's get you two lovebirds together?—"
"Absolutely not," Victor says, and there's steel in his voice now.
But she's already moving toward us, completely immune to his apparently inborn intimidation.
"Just a quick one! Come on, get close?—"
The flash goes off before either of us can protest.
"Perfect!" She checks the photo. "This is going to get so many likes. You two are adorable."
"That's enough," Victor says, his voice dropping into a register that could cut glass. "You can go now."
Undeterred, the housekeeper beams at us. "Enjoy your breakfast! And congratulations on your marriage!"
She leaves, and the silence that follows is deafening.
Until my phone buzzes and then buzzes again and then doesn't stop buzzing.
"I need to go," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "My sisters are probably about to call the police."
