Page 112 of The Exception

But what did lilies mean to Graham? Especially where I was concerned.

“Mm. Interesting. And ferns?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t being too obvious. Our wedding flowers had included lilies, ferns, sunflowers, and roses.

“Ferns are symbols of new beginnings and protection. That’s why I chose them for our wedding.”

Okay. Maybe not so subtle after all.

I blinked at him a few times. “Youchose the flowers? I thought Carson took care of all the arrangements.”

“He executed my plans, but all the selections were mine alone.”

My jaw dropped, and I quickly turned away to mask my surprise. “Allthe selections?”

“The menu. The outdoor space. The flowers. Everything.”

I jerked my head back. “Damn. You put a lot of thought and effort into a fake wedding.”

“Realwedding,” he gritted out.

“Yes. Yes. Fine.” I waved a hand through the air, knowing this was a point of contention for him. “Real wedding.”

I supposed I had the ring and the marriage certificate to prove it. But despite how legally binding our wedding had been, he hadn’t married me for love. So in my mind, it would never be “real” in any meaningful sense of the word.

That day—as beautiful as it had been, and asrealas it had felt to me in some ways—would always be overshadowed by our arrangement. By the fact that Graham needed a wife and I needed his money.

He grabbed me, pulling me to him. “You’re mine.”

But for how long?

I was already falling for my husband, and that scared the shit out of me. His company had always been his first priority, and I knew that would never change. I’d never expect him to change. Heck, it was one of the things I loved most about him.

“We should head back,” I said, worried that this honeymoon phase was just that—a phase.

A look of disappointment flashed through his eyes, and then it was gone. Prince Albert whined, ending further conversation on the matter.

The dogs were getting hungry and so were we, so we headed back to our living quarters. I set up the camera outside and got ready to film the tour.

“I thought we were done filming,” Graham said.

“We are, but I’m not. My followers have been asking about my living situation, and I’ve been meaning to give them a tour.”

He jerked his head back. “You what?”

“You know, a home tour.”

He glowered. “Absolutely not.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a safety issue. People already have your address—there’s no way to hide the location of theChâteau de Bergeret. But do you really need to give them a step-by-step plan to break in to our home?”

Our home.I liked the sound of that way too much.

But this wasn’t our home. It was temporary. Everything about this was supposed to be temporary. Our living situation. Our marriage.

“It’s common practice for vloggers,” I said, trying not to betray my inner turmoil. “Besides, you had Hudson Security install surveillance cameras.”

“I don’t fucking care what other people do. They’re not my wife.” He practically growled the “my wife,” and while it shouldn’t have been hot, it was.

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