I managed to walk through the paparazzi mob and come out unscathed. I'm lucky Quinn was there to help me through it, otherwise I think I would've let them bombard me in that manner. She helped me calm down for the whole hour, not once leaving my side.

She even drove me back home, telling me to rest up because my life was going to change drastically in the next few days. No shit, Sherlock.

I'm sitting on the sofa, crossed legged as the Spanish telenovela is white noise. My phone buzzes, I wince. Articles, messages, the calls. It was all so overwhelming that I just wanted to turn it off. Today has not been my day. I've chewed on my manicured fingernails, the pink is peeling off. As a child, I was severely told off Abuela for biting on my nails. I couldn't help it.

The phone buzzes again. I wait, watching the screen fade to black before temptation gets the best of me.

Can I come over?

It's Dimitri. Oh now he wants to talk. He's probably seen the news articles and wants to offer his sincerest apologies. I reply back with a quick yes. The phone buzzes again.

Great. I'm outside. Two minutes later, the doorbell rings. I take my time walking over, swinging the door open. When my eyes meet his, all the air in my lungs evaporate. This is the first time in a week that I'm seeing my fiance. He's wearing all his signatures: white shirt, open collar, engulfing cologne that radiates for miles and that dark strand falling over his eyebrow. Wasn't it chilly for him to be risking it with no coat?

"Bella," he greets. He's holding a brown envelope in his hand. I move out the way, giving him space to enter.

"Hey,"

"This is your part of the NDA with my signature on it. Nav has both of our copies as well as I. This is yours." He passes it over. I take a hold of it, pulling the paper out slightly to take a peek before propping it on the coffee table.

I mutter a quick thank you back, unsure of what to say or how to react. Dimitri sighs, "Firstly, I'd like to apologise for the lack of contact. I was in Westminster for the week and got sidetracked," I shrug it off, telling him it's fine. It's not fine, but i'm trying to save an argument from frizzling on. I'm not in the mood, today has been a mess.

He takes ahold of my hands, "Secondly, I'm sorry about today. I saw the tabloids and it wasn't right that you were harassed on the street of SoHo." He gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

I sigh a deep breath, visibly letting the tension slip from my body at his touch. "There's nothing I can do to make the situation better but I can advise you to always look your best because the media will always have their eyes on you," he's smirking at the comment, the slight humour in his tone does nothing to suppress the velocity of the situation.

"I'm not quite sure how the news broke out, I was officially supposed to announce it next week," he hums, his eyes drifting away, deep in thought. "But I reassure you, we're working on it." His reassurance does nothing to the damage done.

"I just hoped to never get flash mobbed again like that today," my tone is a small squeak.

"I can't promise anything but if it does happen again, keep your lips pressed shut and try to navigate around them. I know they can be persistent and provoking but it's better to stay silent. Trust me I've learnt that the hard way," His voice is on the edge of a painful memory. He swallows, blinking, flashing out of it.

"I have something that might cheer you up," He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a red velvet box that has cartier inscripted in fancy lettering. "It's for you. I consulted the very best and we discovered you might like this one," he slowly opens the box, the ring is wedged between plush black silk.

He slips it on my trembling fingers. He gently pinches down on my ring finger whilst treading it to keep it from shaking. "Steady now," it's a command. The diamond is a solitaire oval, large in size and encompasses the width of my finger. It sparkles brightly underneath the artificial lighting of the living room and for a minute, I feel the floor sway beneath my feet. I never knew one simple giant diamond could weigh my hand and my world down this much. "It's beautiful,"

He doesn't comment on that. "And if Abuela does ask again. Tell her it's my mother's engagement ring."

"How much did it cost?" I sound breathless. I'm still enhanced by the sparkling.

"The price doesn't matter." he mumbles. "You're my fiance now and the whole world will have eyes on that ring. Try to keep it safe," he smiles, throwing the flimsy comment for fashion.

I roll my eyes, "I will throw it off a bridge the first chance I get," he chuckles at the joke. The sarcasm evidently falling from my tongue.

"Ouch, that hurts my feelings. The environmentalists wouldn't agree and you're harming the animals by throwing a foreign object into the sea. I recommend pawning it, you'll get a fruitful,"

It's awful how he's managing to make me smile at a serious time like this. My cheeks are blown out, trying to keep my lips from turning. "Thank you for the advice, I'll keep it in mind."

He coughs a little, pulling on his collar. "Now the most important part. The conversation I've been dreading," I gaze at him alarmed. He swallows hard, "On the weekend, you need to come to Oxfordshire with me. There's a very small dinner happening at my parents estate and that's where I'll announce the engagement. They're looking forward to meeting you. Mother is delighted. She wouldn't stop praising how pretty you were,"

I nod, "The weekend is yours. I'll come wherever. Any specific dress code?" I try to mentally raid my closet but then I remember I need a closer inspection because everything has been packed away.

"Semi-formal," Hm, semi formal. No overtop decadence, dress shirt and top, neck jewellery in balance. Muted/ block colours. It's a miracle I still remember all this from years ago.

"Got it,"

He shifts his weight from one foot, looking visibly uncomfrotable. Then he blurts out, "We need to show intimacy."

"What?" I snap my head towards him, straining my head in case I'd misheard.

He drags his hand through hair, that one subsequent stand falling over his right eyebrow. It irks me more than him. "We're going to be in front of the cameras, the media, my family. We need to show we're madly in love. How are we going to convince anyone that this is real if we can't show affection?"

I cross my arms over my chest, annoyed at how right he is. "What do you need me to do?" I sulk.

"Kiss me,"

My eyebrow darts up, blinking at this word. What? He's laughing at my reaction now. He cocks his eyebrow, teasingly. "What? Afraid of a little harmless kiss?"

"No," He scoffs, not believing me one bit.

His hand slips over my hips, holding me in place, mindful of my heistance and searching my eyes for discomfort. When he sees I don't move his hand away, he gently tugs until our chests touch. My hands brush across his face, his stubble prickling my palms. He's warm, despite the chilly weather for a May night. For a minute, I'm convinced I'm crazy for doing this.

He feels me slowly begin to back away, he's grinning at my cowardice. "I knew you couldn't do it," He shakes his head mockingly, his eyes narrowed into slits as his breathy laugh rumbles from his throat.

Its just a harmless stupid kiss. It doesn't mean anything. Besides, we need to do this for the charade to work. I'll show him. I raised my chin and looked him dead in the eye. I was already well versed with his appearance and had seen him a handful of times to know his eyes were dark blue. But today? His eyes were a deep shade of navy mixed with black, holding seeping desire and enchant that simmered around the iris.

Without warning and another thought, I press my lips to his. It catches him off guard for a second before he's lazily smiling against my lips. The moment he begins to kiss me back, my stomach knots into strings of heat. My heart almost hurdles forward.

My knees buck beneath me, his lips are soft against mine - feverishly addictive that I'm beginning to lose all sanity and sense. The kiss is slow and deliberate, he's taking his time. We're taking our time, both of savouring the foreign feeling that grows in the pits of our stomach. My back hits the wall, his hands skim over my ass, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist.

It's urgent now, heatingly fervent, frenzy clouding both of us. He bites down on my lip, enticing a low moan. He hums in appreciation at the reaction I give him. He tastes of honey lip balm, hints of vanilla - something sweet and salty simultaneously. His fingers dig into my hair, gently pulling. He's got me pinned against the wall. I tug on his collar – a button flies off. He doesn't seem to mind. Or care as matter of fact.

I'm drowning head first and–the brutal ringing of his phone breaks the spell. He gently drops me immediately, blinking out of the trance both of us were in.

I try to hold my breath but I'm panting like I've just run a marathon.

He's still breathless too. He doesn't once take his eyes off me as he answers his phone call. "Hello?" He coaxes. "Yes, I'm nearby... Okay. No, tomorrow five o'clock. Twenty-minutes, I'm leaving now,"

He swallows a hard lump in his throat, straightening his posture and beginning to fix his shirt. "Uhm–I need to leave. Something just came up."

I nodd, already wanting the palpable heat to disappear between us. "I'll walk you downstairs."

He turns as I follow behind him silently. The minute the cold air hits my face, I feel like I can finally get the oxygen following in my system again. He shifts uncomfortably, slightly blocking my view. Before he swiftly turns to face me. Are we not going to acknowledge what just happened? In there? You had me pinned against the wall!!

I resist the urge to look at the missing button on his shirt. "Ready for the move in tomorrow? Your flat looks empty," I hum at the response, unenthusiastically. "Men will be sent around noon while you're at work and it will all be moved for you. You just have to drive yourself to my place."

I nodd. "Goodnight," he reaches down, propping a small peck on my cheek catching me off-guard. He brushes my hair behind my ear, leaning closer. "Smile. There's a man in the bush with a camera." His voice is strained, calculating and hot against my earlobe. I don't know what comes over me because I'm reaching out for his face, pulling him until his lips are crashing onto mine. My ring jabs into his cheek but he doesn't complain. He's too focused on the kiss to complain. SNAP! –the shutter closes. There's a bright flash.

I pull back, he opens his eyes, blinking to adjust to his surroundings. His face stretches into a confused gauze. "For the camera, ¿Si?"

He fixes his throat, his jaw locking. "Hm, for the camera. Muy importante," he remarks, dubiously agreeing.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow." It's a promise.

His car clicks to life. Before stepping into his car, his gaze flicks up staring dead at the bush with a hardened expression. To my surprise, there's no flash this time. The engine roars to life, he rolls away. I watch his car disappear down the street. My teeth collide with my lip. That kiss was more harmless than it seemed.