My Fiancé's Second Wedding - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

At first, Jonah said I was too young—that marriage would tie me down. Then it was all about building his business first, to "give me the life I deserved" and "put my family at ease." Every excuse dripped with nobility, like he was some selfless martyr sacrificing for my sake.
And I bought it. Hook, line, and sinker. I loved him, so I believed him. When my brother muttered about wanting to rearrange Jonah's face, I jumped to his defense.
Six years. I waited six years. My friends started joking that if I didn't hurry up and walk down the aisle, I'd outlast the relationship before it ever became a marriage.
Then, finally—finally—he proposed.
We set the date. Sent invitations. Booked the venue. But he still refused to meet my parents. "I want to surprise them at the wedding," he said.
And then, like some twisted punchline, Nadia waltzed back into town with her dying mother.
That's when it hit me—I'd been the joke all along.
A bitter laugh escaped me as I yanked Jonah's ID from the drawer and flung it at him.
"Relax. I don't want a secondhand husband."
The words landed like a slap. His brow furrowed, frustration tightening his voice.
"How many times do I have to explain this? It's just for show—a paper wedding, nothing real. Once it's done, I'm yours. Why isn't that enough for you?"
"Sure. Go get your marriage certificate, then."
His fingers trembled as he picked up the ID. Guilt? Doubt? Who knew. He scrambled to add, "We're not actually registering anything. Just going through the motions at City Hall—"
If it was all pretend, why did he need his ID?
I just said, "Oh," flat and unreadable. My indifference threw him. He hesitated, then stepped closer, tilting my chin up like he might kiss me—
And that's when Nadia, who'd clearly been eavesdropping, burst in.
She wedged between us, shoving me back hard enough to send me sprawling. At the same time, she "accidentally" flung herself into Jonah's arms.
He caught her—of course he did—but the force sent them both crashing to the floor.
From my spot on the cold tiles, I watched Nadia land right on top of him, thighs straddling his hips. Her cheeks flushed, breath hitching as she murmured—just loud enough for me to hear—
"Jonah… your abs are just as hard as I remember."
He stiffened, coughing awkwardly, but his hands stayed glued to her waist.
Nadia turned watery eyes on me, lip trembling like she might burst into tears. "Arabelle, I'm so sorry! Yell at me, hit me—just don't take it out on Jonah! If he gets hurt—"
Disgusted, I pushed myself up and headed for the door.
"If you're that worried, go ahead and inspect him. Need me to give you two some privacy?"
Jonah's face darkened, his jaw clenched tight. Lust? Rage? Hard to tell.
"Arabelle. That's disgusting."
Disgusting? He was the one copping feels on his ex within thirty seconds, and I was disgusting?
I turned and gently shut the door behind me.
By the time the elevator arrived, Nadia came sprinting after me, lips suspiciously shiny, cheeks glowing. She blocked my path, hands clasped like some tragic heroine.
"Arabelle, please don't misunderstand! That was totally an accident. If it weren't for my mom insisting on seeing a certificate, I'd never ask this of Jonah. Just… don't cause trouble at the wedding, okay?"
She even started to kneel—
Jonah yanked her up, tucking her against his side. His glare could've frozen hell.
"Arabelle. I'm warning you—don't push this. If things go south, you won't like how it ends." His voice was steel, expecting obedience. "From now until the wedding, you stay home. I'm posting a bodyguard to make sure of it."