Page 202 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
Pretending.
By the third day, the tension had stretched so thin inside me it felt like it might snap at any moment.
I was finishing up in my office, slipping the last of my things into my bag, my movements sharper than usual.
The clock ticked closer to closing time—three minutes left.
Three long, dragging minutes.
I straightened, exhaling slowly, trying to steady the restless energy coiling inside me—
And then I heard it.
Footsteps.
Not one set.
Two.
They approached my office door with quiet certainty, each step deliberate, controlled.
My entire body went still.
My heart slammed once, hard enough to echo in my ears.
And this time...
Something told me it wasn’t a false alarm.
One of the men was Ramiro.
Even from across the room, he was unmistakable.
Today, he wore a sharp blue suit that fit him like it had been tailored down to the last thread.
His expression was neutral as always, but there was a quiet alertness in his eyes, like he was constantly assessing.
The other man...
The moment my gaze landed on him, everything inside me stilled.
He was dressed in a tailored grey suit that clung to a broad, powerful frame, the fabric molding perfectly over his shoulders and chest as if it had been made to worship his body.
He was taller than Ramiro—noticeably so—and he moved with a kind of lethal grace that didn’t just command space... it owned it.
Every step he took was unhurried.
Like a predator that knew nothing in the room posed a threat.
And then I saw his face.
My breath caught so sharply it almost hurt.
Rafael ‘El Mencho’ Pérez.
The name alone had always carried weight—whispers, fear, fascination. But nothing could have prepared me for the reality of him.
He was devastatingly handsome in a way that felt almost cruel.
