Our first kiss was private. Too right to be wrong.

Two strangers stuck in an elevator.

How was I supposed to know he was my boss's brother?

But our second kiss was anything but.

He cupped my face, feeling my fear.

He stared into my eyes, afraid I would bolt.

His spontaneous offer: An arranged marriage with a deadline.

He whispered, "Trust me, Princess."

Then, the public proposal.

His perfectly sculpted lips captured mine again.

The wedding pact —sealed with a kiss.

The emcee's high-pitched voice yelled into the microphone.

"What just happened, folks?"

It's fake. It's not real.

It's only for a month. Then it's over.

But he kisses me, not like he needs my help, but like I am his forever.