Oscar-Worthy

Maeve's POV

A sharp jolt rocked the car, yanking me straight out of sleep with a startled gasp. A dull ache pulsed along the side of my neck from resting at a crooked angle, and—wait a second. This was not the front passenger seat.

I was stretched out across the back bench, my legs resting on the cool leather, tucked beneath a soft fleece blanket like a kid put to bed.

Blinking through the heavy grogginess, I pushed myself upright and rubbed my eyes. Lucas’s broad shoulders filled the view in front of me, his posture stiff as he steered down an uneven gravel backroad that bounced the tires every few seconds.

What the hell? Had he picked me up and moved me while I was out? The mere idea sent a prickly wave of heat creeping up my collar. Now that my head was clearing, a hazy memory surfaced—me mumbling nonsense in my sleep, the solid grip of strong arms lifting my weight, and the steady warmth of his chest pressed against my cheek.

I cleared my throat, my voice coming out raspy and thick with sleep. “Lucas? How long was I out? And... how did I end up back here?”

His honey-brown eyes met mine in the rearview mirror for a brief beat before returning to the dark road ahead. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—gentle and warm enough to make my stomach flip over.

“Long enough to snore through three counties. We’re about twenty minutes out from the manor.”

Snoring? I reached forward and swatted at the empty air between the seats. “Liar. I do not snore. And you didn’t need to haul me around like a piece of luggage. I was fine up front.”

He gave a small shrug, though the tight line of his shoulders gave him away; he was not nearly as casual as he was trying to act. He glanced back into the mirror, holding my gaze a fraction longer than necessary. “You were dead to the world with your head banging against the window like a bobblehead. It looked painful as hell. Besides, it’s one of the perks of being my fake girlfriend. I get to play the knight in shining armor. Don’t read into it.”

*Don’t read into it.* Those four words stung, a sharp reminder of the invisible boundary keeping us apart. Still, actions carried more weight than warnings, didn't they? This was his blanket wrapped around my shoulders. And the careful way he had moved me, stripping back his usual gruff attitude, kept chipping away at the defenses I had spent years building around my heart. Four years of this push and pull, and he was still a puzzle I couldn't solve.

As the car crested a steep hill, the surrounding woods gave way to lush, rolling grounds. Up ahead, the Garrison estate rose against the dusk like something torn from the pages of an old novel. Ivy climbed the tall stone towers, and manicured lawns sloped down toward the glassy surface of a private pond. Everything about the place radiated generational wealth and suffocating family expectations.

My pulse kicked into overdrive as fresh panic set in. What if his family saw right through our charade the moment we walked in? What if Celeste turned that toxic, calculating stare on me and tore my confidence to shreds? Worse, what if Lucas dropped the act once we crossed the threshold, leaving me to survive this lion’s den on my own?

He must have heard the hitch in my breathing, because his voice dropped to a quieter register. “You good back there? Not having second thoughts about walking into this circus, are you?”

I scrambled forward, resting my forearms along the console between the front seats, and forced a crooked grin onto my face. “Nope. Ready for my Academy Award. ‘Babe, pass me the apples’—I nailed that earlier, right?”

The laugh that followed sounded thin even to my own ears. Lucas caught it right away. His eyes locked onto mine in the mirror with a steady, grounding heat.

“We got this, Mae. Together.”

For a single heartbeat, I let myself buy into the illusion, even if that *together* felt as fragile as spun glass. Dropping back against the seat, I ran my fingers through my hair to smooth the tangles, swiped on a fresh layer of lip gloss, and popped a piece of watermelon gum into my mouth. The sweet burst of flavor gave my brain something small to focus on while I braced for impact.

By the time we rolled through the towering wrought-iron gates, twilight had settled over the property in a deep indigo hush. Floodlights illuminated a vast stone courtyard that looked more like a luxury dealership than a driveway. Sleek Lamborghinis, polished Bentleys, and a vintage Rolls-Royce were parked in tight rows around a massive central fountain. Clear streams of water arced through the air, cascading into the basin with a steady rush that made my mouth go dry. Looking at the sheer number of cars, my stomach dropped. This was no quiet family dinner. It was a full-scale high-society gathering.

I leaned toward the front seat, keeping my voice low as my gaze darted from the sculpted hedges to the tall windows spilling golden light across the stone. “You left out the part where your family is the size of a small town, Lucas.”

He turned the key, cutting the engine. In the sudden quiet of the cabin, the muffled hum of music and laughter drifting from the main house sounded ten times louder. Before stepping out, he twisted in his seat and gave my knee a firm, reassuring squeeze that sent a jolt of warmth straight up my thigh. “Don’t sweat it, Mae. Most of them are harmless. Just smile and nod a lot. You’ll do fine. We’ve got this.”

I swallowed past the tight lump wedged in my throat and gave a tight nod. *Fine.* Right. As if playing pretend in front of a dynasty of hockey royalty and old-money elites wasn't about to unravel my sanity thread by thread.

Stepping out into the crisp night air, my heels crunched against the gravel courtyard. Lucas walked around the hood of the car and held out his hand without saying a word. His palm was warm and rough, his fingers tangling with mine in a firm grip. That simple point of contact made my skin prickle and my heart skip a beat. Walking beside him with our hands linked like a real couple felt live-wired and dangerous—everything I had secretly wanted and everything I knew I couldn't keep.

Our footsteps fell into rhythm as he guided me up the wide stone staircase and through a pair of heavy double doors. The foyer beyond looked like a spread from an architectural magazine. Polished marble floors reflected the glow of a towering crystal chandelier, scattering tiny prisms of light across the walls. Tall porcelain vases overflowed with fresh lilies and roses, their sweet fragrance mixing with the rich scent of aged mahogany and a faint trace of expensive cigars. The sheer scale of the wealth pressed down on my shoulders, making me feel like a clearance-rack dress tossed into a couture showroom.

Lucas led me down a wide gallery where rows of heavy gilt frames lined the walls like a panel of silent judges. Generation after generation of Garrison men stared back at us—stern faces in vintage sweaters, wooden hockey sticks gripped in taped hands, championship rings and silver cups raised high on the ice. The sepia photographs transitioned into modern color portraits down the hall, tracing the family bloodline from mustached great-grandfathers to a shot of Lucas’s father winding up for a slapshot.

At the very end of the corridor hung the largest canvas of all: the family patriarch, Franklin Garrison. He sat on a carved mahogany chair that resembled a throne, his weathered fingers curled over the top of a silver-tipped cane. A massive signet ring caught the light on his hand, while his painted eyes seemed to bore straight through my ribs, stripping away every lie we had rehearsed on the drive up.

I slowed my pace, staring up at the frame as a quiet breath slipped past my lips. “Wow.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Lucas’s chest. Guiding me by the hand, he turned toward a pair of brushed-steel elevator doors tucked into the stone wall.

An elevator inside a private residence? My head spun trying to calculate the tax bracket required for this place.

With a soft chime, the doors glided open and we stepped into the mirrored cab. As the floor hummed beneath us and the car began to rise, my composure started to fray at the edges. My free hand twisted the fabric of my skirt while my heel tapped a frantic beat against the floor. What if I tripped over my own feet? What if I blurted out the wrong thing at the table, or worse, let everyone see that my side of this arrangement wasn't an act at all?

Lucas caught the spiral before I could say a word. Tugging gently on my hand, he drew me straight against his chest. One strong arm came around my waist to anchor me in place, while his other hand rose to cup my jaw. The rough pad of his thumb brushed across my cheekbone, sending a rush of heat straight to my ears and stealing the air right out of my lungs.

He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut through the noise in my head. “Relax, Mae. I’m right here with you. Nothing bad’s going to happen. And if anyone in there gives you shit, I’ll handle it—defend you tooth and nail.”

I nodded against his palm, managing a small smile despite the swarm of butterflies tearing through my stomach. The solid weight of his arm around my waist pulled me back from the edge, melting the sharp edge of my fear even as it stirred up a whole different kind of trouble I couldn't afford to face.