Eric's POV

"Breathe," I said, trying to sound calm even though my own mind was racing. "We'll fix this."

Sienna was muttering to herself-something about needing to call her lawyer, and maybe a priest. I can't tell which will come first.

She stopped and turned to face me, her brown eyes wide and frazzled. "Fix this? Eric, we are legally married. This-" she waved the paper in her hand like it was a live grenade, "-isn't something you can just 'fix.'" Her voice cracked a little at the end.

"Look," I said gently, "we'll go to the county clerk's office, explain what happened, and file for an annulment. I'm sure people do it all the time."

Her brows furrowed. "Do they? People accidentally marry strangers all the time?"

"Probably not all the time," I admitted, "but often enough that I'm sure they've got a form for it."

That earned me a small glare but at least she didn't look like she was about to faint anymore, so I considered that progress.

We stepped out of the casino into the Miami sunlight. The heat hit us instantly. Sienna shielded her eyes with her hand, squinting at the bustling street ahead. Her dark brown hair glowed in the sunlight, glinting with hints of bronze, and I found myself staring before I quickly looked away.

If someone had told me a week ago that I'd fly to Miami for a quiet holiday and end up accidentally marrying a woman I met after she spilled coffee on me, I'd have laughed them straight out of the room.

But here we are.

All I wanted was a break from my family's responsibilities - the suffocating expectations that came with being Eric Macmillan, heir to Macmillan Holdings.

My father, Richard Macmillan, is the kind of man who cares more about net profit and handshakes with the royal family than anything else. But his recent arrangement is one that I'm not consenting to no matter the consequences.

I hailed a cab, and we slid into the backseat. She sat stiffly beside me, clutching the marriage certificate like she might shred it with her bare hands at any moment.

"I can't believe this is happening," she murmured.

"Neither can I," I said, staring out the window. "I was hoping my biggest crisis this week would be deciding whether to order room service or actually leave the hotel."

She glanced at me then, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. "Yeah, well, congratulations. You've officially outdone yourself."

I chuckled softly. "That's one way to put it."

The ride to the clerk's office was quiet after that.

When we finally arrived at the county clerk's office, Sienna was out of the car before I even paid the driver. The building was overly air-conditioned, with beige walls and a queue that stretched to the door. The faint hum of printers filled the air, along with the occasional sound of a keyboard clicking.

Sienna marched straight to the counter, where a woman with glasses sat typing.

"Hi," she began, with a polite tone. "We, um... need to talk to someone about undoing a marriage?"

The clerk looked up, unimpressed. "Undoing?"

"Annulment," I offered.

Her eyes shifted between us, taking in our slightly disheveled appearances and the fact that Sienna was still holding the certificate like it was radioactive. "Do you have your marriage certificate?"

Sienna thrust it forward. "Right here."

The woman adjusted her glasses and looked at the document, then at us again. "You got married at the pop-up event last night?"

"Yes," we said in unison.

"But, we didn't realize what we were signing. It was a misunderstanding. We'd like to annul it as soon as possible." I said.

She looked at me over the rim of her glasses. "Are both of you U.S. citizens?"

"No. I'm British." I said.

Her brows lifted slightly. "Ah. That complicates things."

"Complicates how?" Sienna asked.

The clerk sighed, "Florida law allows annulments under certain conditions-fraud, coercion, mental incapacity, that sort of thing. But you can't just walk in the next morning and undo it like a refund. And since one of you isn't a U.S. citizen, you'll likely have to go through international marriage verification before you can even file for annulment. It could take weeks."

"Weeks?" Sienna echoed, her voice pitching upward. "I'm supposed to go back to New York in five days!"

The woman gave an apologetic shrug. "You'll need to contact an attorney for the proper filing process. There's a legal waiting period."

Sienna pressed a hand to her forehead and exhaled shakily. "This is not happening."

I leaned on the counter, trying to keep my tone calm. "There must be something we can do."

"Short of proving fraud or mental incompetence, not really," the clerk said. She slid the paper back towards us with a faint smile. "Well then, congratulations to you both-"

Sienna's glare could've cut glass. The woman froze mid-sentence, her polite smile faltering as she cleared her throat. "Or, uh... good luck with getting your annulment."

Sienna snatched the certificate, shoving it into her bag like it was a venomous snake. "Thanks," she muttered, turning to the door before I could say another word.

We stepped out of the county clerk's office, and the Miami heat wrapped around us again like a thick blanket. Sienna let out a long exhale that sounded more like defeat than anything else. We only made it a few steps before her stomach let out a loud, unmistakable rumble.

I tried so hard not to smile.

Sienna glared at me. "Don't," she warned.

"I wasn't going to say anything," I said, keeping my expression as serious as I could manage. "But to be fair, we haven't eaten anything all morning. We went straight from discovering we're married to chasing down a government official. That's a lot to do on an empty stomach."

She sighed, deflating a little. "I'm not really hungry, I'm just overwhelmed."

Right on cue, her stomach rumbled again. Much louder this time.

I raised an eyebrow. "Your stomach disagrees."

A reluctant, tiny smile flickered at the corner of her lips. "Fine. Maybe I'm a little hungry."

"Come on," I said, gently touching her elbow as we started walking. "Let's get some breakfast. It'll be easier to think once you've eaten. And then we can start looking for an attorney."

She nodded, pulling her bag closer to her side. "Okay. Food might help."

We walked toward the sidewalk, heading in the direction of a café I saw earlier. The sun was sharp, cars zipped past, and somewhere down the street a man was aggressively selling sunglasses to anyone with a pulse.

Sienna's phone started buzzing rapidly inside her bag.

"Of course," she muttered, stopping abruptly. "Because this is obviously the perfect time for a phone call."

She rummaged through her bag with frustrated hands, pulling the phone free and glancing at the screen. Her expression changed immediately, whatever color that remained in her face drained.

Her lips parted slightly, and she just stared at the screen, frozen.

I frowned. "Sienna?"

She didn't respond. Her eyes flickered back and forth across her phone screen.

"What is it?" I asked again, stepping closer.

She finally looked up at me, her eyes wide.

"We're screwed," she whispered. "Completely, and utterly fucked."

Sienna's POV

I had Sixteen messages, four missed calls, and a link from my younger sister, Jessica, with about five question marks after it.

I tapped the link and a video opened. A clean, high-quality clip of me and Eric standing under the neon-lit wedding arch in the casino's exhibit area.

We looked normal as we exchanged vows. I looked serene, gazing up at him like I knew exactly what I was doing. And Eric looked steady and sure. We didn't look like two drunk idiots playing pretend.

I looked up at Eric and said, "We're screwed. "Completely, and utterly fucked."

My heart was pounding and then, I read the caption below the video:

"British Billionaire Heir Marries Mystery Woman in Miami." That one sentence was bold enough to punch my soul straight out of my body.

I blinked at first, then blinked again.

British... what?

Billionaire... Who?

"What-?" I choked out, staring at the screen like it might suddenly correct itself.

Jessica's texts started popping up one after the other:

Jess: SIS WHAT IS THIS???

Jess: You MARRIED a billionaire??

Jess: Who is he?? What's going on?? Answer meeeee!!

Jess: Mom is gonna hyperventilate.

Jess: ARE YOU OKAY??

Jess: HELLO???

I suddenly felt dizzy. I didn't even know which message to respond to first. There were a lot of tags on my Instagram too.

The wedding I thought was fake is actually real, and now the whole freaking world knows about it. My face was almost on every blog - mystery woman, unknown bride, Miami wife. And my legally married husband, Eric Macmillan is apparently heir to a Billionaire fortune.

I turned to Eric slowly

"You're a billionaire," I blurted, as I practically shoved my phone in his face. "You're a billionaire heir. Why didn't you tell me?!"

He froze, eyes widening slightly as he saw the video.

"Sienna, I-"

"No, don't 'Sienna' me! Why is the internet calling you a billionaire heir?!"

He raised his palms gently, like he was approaching a startled animal.

"Let's breathe for a moment. We were about to go get breakfast. Why don't we eat first and I promise I'll explain anything you want to know."

"I don't need breakfast," I shot back, but my stomach growled traitorously. "I need answers."

His lips twitched. "You need both. Preferably in reverse order."

I glared at him.

"Fine," I muttered stiffly. "Breakfast then answers."

He nodded. "Good. Come on."

I followed beside him, gripping my phone tightly.

*****

I ordered pancakes and a black coffee, Eric ordered the same thing.

"So," I finally said once the waitress walked off, "explain."

He exhaled softly and leaned back. "My grandfather started a multinational company in London then handed it over to my father who expanded it. I'm his only child, that means I get to inherit it."

"And you never thought to mention any of that?" I asked, folding my arms.

He winced. "It didn't exactly come up between tequila shots and fake vows."

He had a point, but I wasn't about to say that out loud.

"That's why someone filmed us, they probably recognized you." I said.

"Yeah, probably," he said, shrugging. "The family name gets attention, especially in Europe."

"Well, no wonder Jess is freaking out." I paused. "But how come I've never heard about your family?"

Before he could respond, another waitress came with our orders. Her eyes widened the moment she saw Eric. Her entire face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "You're-are you-? You're Eric Macmillan, right?"

Eric offered a polite, practiced smile. "I am."

She gasped, actually gasped, and put a hand over her chest. "I've read about you! My roommate studies international trade and your family is literally-" She squealed. "Wow. Sorry. Sorry! I'm just... wow."

"It's alright," he said kindly. "Thank you."

She practically drifted away on a cloud of fangirl energy.

I blinked at him. "Seems like you're comfortable being recognized by strangers."

"Sometimes," he said. "Depends on the country."

"Oh, great," I muttered. "So I didn't just marry a billionaire. I married a celebrity billionaire."

He chuckled under his breath.

I observed that in this whole internet explosion, not once did he take out his phone. Not even to check his social media.

"So," I said, narrowing my eyes, "you haven't looked at your phone at all. Are you just going to pretend this isn't happening?"

He shook his head. "I wanted to take a break. From everything, including social media. That's why I came to Miami."

"And instead you got a wife," I said dryly.

"Not the break I planned," he admitted, "but... memorable."

I groaned and pushed my plate away. "We need an attorney fast. We have to annul this before it gets messier."

He nodded calmly. "I agree. Once we're done eating, we'll go find one."

I opened my mouth to continue planning our damage control, but my phone ringing interrupted me. The caller ID showed "MOM."

I stared at the screen like it was about to explode. My mom calling me now is already a sign that things are about to get even crazier.

"I should probably take this," I said weakly.

Eric gave me a nod.

I swiped to answer. "Hello."

"Sienna Marie Jones!"

There goes the full name.

"Mom-"

"What is this I am seeing on the internet?" she demanded. "Why is there a video of you getting married in a casino?! Without telling anyone?! And who is that man? Why are blogs calling him a billionaire?!"

I winced and held the phone slightly away from my ear. I could practically feel her frustration vibrating through the speaker.

"Mom, I can explain, I just-"

"Good. You better start explaining now because your father is pacing the living room, ranting about flying to Miami today to drag both of you back to New York by the ears!"

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Fantastic.

Exactly what I needed. Dad going on full dramatic–dad mode.

Then I heard Jess yelling in the background.

"I told you she probably didn't mean to get married! Mom, let me talk to her! Sienna, are you alive?! Can he hear us? Put it on speaker!"

Oh God.

"Mom, please calm down," I begged. "I promise, I'm fine. Eric is-"

"I don't care if he is the Queen of England's nephew," she snapped. "You are coming back to New York with him today. Do you understand me?"

"Mom, it's... complicated."

"Oh, it's about to get a lot more complicated," she said. "Get on the next flight or your father will be on his way to Miami in an hour."

She hung up.

I let my hand drop to the table, phone still in my grip.

Eric raised an eyebrow. "So... bad news?"

I inhaled shakily. "My mother just full-named me. My father wants to fly to Miami and drag us back. They want us in New York today."

Eric blinked.

"Well," he said after a moment, "that's... a very strong reaction."

"Strong?" I whispered. "Eric, things have officially gone from bad to worse."

I dropped my head into my hands.

"Why did I ever think being drunk and getting married was a good idea?" I mumbled into my palms.

Sienna's POV

Eric rolled his suitcase effortlessly beside me, while I tried to pretend like my life wasn't falling apart in slow-motion.

He had suggested-very casually, like it was nothing-that we hire a private jet.

"A private jet, Eric," I'd repeated. "Do I look like someone who can afford a private jet?"

He'd looked at me with those maddeningly calm eyes.

"I'll foot the bill. Besides, we need some privacy, especially with that video on the internet."

"No." I refused.

Taking a private jet is not the solution to our problem right now.

So now, after a long conversation-and me promising for the tenth time that I would pay him back-we were standing in the First Class boarding area.

"I'll transfer the money as soon as we get to New York," I mumbled for maybe the sixth time.

He gave me a sideways look, one eyebrow raised slightly. "Sienna, it's fine."

"It's not. I don't want to owe you anything. Not even a fancy seat on a fancy plane."

His lips twitched. "You think First Class is fancy?"

"Yeah, well," I muttered, "I'm trying not to feel like I'm dating a billionaire."

"We're married, actually," he said lightly.

"Eric," I warned.

He raised his hands in surrender, but that damn smile stayed.

We sat down in the perfectly clean First Class lounge. The place smelled like fresh coffee and expensive leather. I sank into a chair that probably cost more than my salary. Eric sat opposite me, scrolling through something on his tablet.

"So," he said finally, "what is your family like?"

"Well, my mom worries a lot, my dad acts cool but low-key panics and my sister is overly dramatic."

He stared at me. "This trip is going to be interesting."

"Oh, don't worry," I said, leaning back. "It gets better.

My dad's going to pepper you with questions. My mom will probably threaten you and Jess might ask you to buy her a new iPhone."

Eric blinked. "A new iPhone?"

I nodded solemnly. "It's her love language."

Before he could respond, the announcement for First Class boarding echoed across the lounge.

Eric stood up and held out a hand to take my bag but I pulled it closer.

"I got it."

"Sienna, it's a carry-on."

"Yes, and I can carry it on."

His jaw flexed like he wanted to argue, but he let it go.

We walked onto the plane, and I swear the air smelled different.

Our seats were enormous, practically mini rooms. The flight attendant greeted Eric by name.

"Mr. Macmillan, good to have you onboard again."

I shot him a look.

He leaned toward me and whispered, "I fly through here a lot."

"Of course you do," I muttered. "Do you also have a favorite seat on every airline?"

"Yes."

I groaned loudly enough that a businessman across from us glanced up.

Eric hid a smile behind his hand.

We settled into our seats, and I tried not to look impressed. Eric didn't even try to hide how amused he was at my reactions.

"You don't have to be so tense," he said gently. "We'll be in New York soon, and then everything will be alright."

"Eric, I'm about to introduce my parents to my accidental billionaire-husband. Nothing about that seems alright."

He tilted his head slightly, thinking.

"True. But I'll handle it."

"You can't handle my parents," I said immediately. "They're immune to billionaire charm."

He smirked. "We'll see about that."

I rolled my eyes and buckled my seatbelt.

But then his voice softened, so unexpectedly I had to look at him.

"Sienna, I know this is overwhelming for you. This whole thing happened so fast, but I want you to know something."

"What?"

"We're in this together. Even if it's temporary."

For a second, I almost forgot how to breathe. I was lost in the softness of his voice and the blue of his eyes.

The pilot announced takeoff, saving me from having to respond. Because honestly, I didn't know how to respond to that.

As the plane lifted off, I stared out the window, watching Miami shrink into tiny dots of light. I wasn't sure what scared me more; the drama waiting to unfold in New York, or the calm I felt sitting next to a man I just met.

*****

I tried so hard not to check my phone again but the temptation was too much. Soon, I was scrolling through the comments again.

"Ugh," I groaned loudly, slumping lower into my seat. "Why are people like this?"

Without warning, Eric leaned slightly over the armrest and plucked the phone out of my hands.

"Hey!" I protested.

He held it out of reach before locking the screen. "Stop reading the comments."

"I was just checking-"

"No." He set my phone facedown on the tray table. "All they're doing is stressing you out. And they don't know you."

I threw my head back with an exaggerated sigh. "I know, but it's like watching a train wreck which I very much caused."

He gave me a look. "You didn't cause anything. Someone just captured a fun moment at a convenient angle."

"Fun?" I deadpanned. "It didn't look like fun to the public. We looked serious, Eric."

His mouth curved slightly.

"Still a good angle."

I squinted at him.

He stared back, completely unbothered.

"Are you seriously complimenting the angle of the paparazzi video right now?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied calmly.

I tried not to laugh but failed.

When I leaned back, he reached out and gently lifted my chin with two fingers.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That little frown." His tone was honest. "You look too pretty to be wasting that expression on strangers online."

My brain short-circuited.

I blinked slowly because my entire bloodstream had apparently turned into warm syrup.

"Pretty?" I repeated, like an idiot.

He let his hand drop but not before his thumb brushed lightly over my chin-a soft touch that sent tiny fireworks under my skin.

"Very," he said, as if it were the simplest fact in the world.

My heart did something weird-like a cartwheel and belly flop combined.

To hide my face, and my very obvious blush, I turned to the window.

But then, because life hated me, the glossy black screen of the seat in front of me reflected my face perfectly; flushed cheeks, pink ears, and wide eyes.

Oh God.

I could tell Eric noticed because I heard the tiny amused huff he tried to disguise as a cough.

*****

The captain's voice filtered through the speakers, calmly announcing our arrival in New York. I startled awake, my neck a bit stiff, and a small line of drool on my hand.

"We're here," Eric said gently.

For a moment, I just sat there, blinking before I slowly stood.

The moment we exited the main arrival hall, it felt like the world exploded.

There were camera flashes and so many loud voices.

"Miss, this way!"

"Eric, look here!"

"Is it true you two eloped?!"

"Mr. Macmillan, are you taking your new bride to meet your family?"

"Ma'am, how did you meet the British billionaire heir?!"

Microphones, cameras, phones-hundreds, maybe thousands. It was like every entertainment blog, gossip page, and confused traveler had formed a fast, aggressive mob in front of us.

The flashing lights were so bright I instinctively shielded my face.

"What the- Eric!" I hissed, but he was already moving.

He stepped in front of me, one arm extended back as a barrier, guiding me behind him with steady pressure. His entire posture changed into protectiveness in an instant.

"Stay close," he murmured.

Like I was going anywhere else.

The paparazzi surged forward in waves.

"ERIC, HOW DID YOU GUYS MEET?"

"IS SHE PREGNANT?"

Oh my God.

"What?!" I choked. "Why would...who would even...? Eric, they think I'm..."

"Ignore it," he said calmly.

My heart hammered violently against my ribs, and a dizzy wave of claustrophobia washed over me. I felt like I was drowning in light and sound.

"Eric..." My voice cracked.

He turned just enough to look back at me. His eyes softened instantly.

"I've got you," he said quietly.

Something steadied inside me until a man shoved an oversized camera lens so close I could see my reflection in it.

"Give us a kiss!" he yelled. "Look here! Right here!"

Eric moved so fast I barely registered it, and the photographer stumbled back, startled.

"My wife is not a spectacle," he said sharply.

Wife.

Hearing him say that word out loud-even if it wasn't real-in front of a crowd did something strange and warm to my chest.

Security was desperately trying to push people aside, but the crowd was too thick. Someone grabbed my arm, and I gasped.

Eric snapped around. "Don't touch her."

His voice dropped low, edged with authority that sent the guy stumbling away.

I was seconds from either passing out or punching someone when suddenly, a sleek black SUV screeched to a stop in front of us.

The back door flew open and a middle-aged man leaned out the door

"Eric!" he called out. "Get in! Now!"

Eric's face lit up.

"Connor?"

"Move!" the man barked.

Before I could react, Eric grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the car.