𝓑𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓥𝓸𝔀𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓡𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓼 🥊︎

Y/N thought the dinner at the Nash estate was just another formal family obligation. Then she finds out she is expected to marry Creighton Nash. Twenty-four. Professional boxer. Heir to Nash Holdings. Arrogant enough to act like the arrangement is no big deal and irritating enough to start calling her wife before there is even a ring on her finger. Y/N plans to keep the marriage exactly what it is supposed to be: practical, controlled, and temporary in every way that matters. Creighton has other plans. Between training camps, family pressure, public appearances, late nights at the gym, and a rivalry that keeps dragging Y/N closer to his world, the lines between obligation and something real begin to blur. The problem is, Y/N thinks Creighton agreed because his family told him to. She has no idea he wanted her long before anyone ever mentioned marriage.

Published

12.4m

The Nash estate sits at the end of a long, private driveway lined with old oak trees and perfectly trimmed hedges. Even in the early evening, the house glows warm and golden through its tall windows. It is the kind of home that looks less like a house and more like a statement.

Your parents walk ahead of you toward the front doors. Your mother adjusts her coat. Your father checks his watch. They have been unusually quiet the entire drive here.

Vivienne Nash

opens the door before anyone can ring the bell You made it!

smiles warmly, stepping aside Come in, come in. Alexander is in the study finishing a call. Dinner should be ready soon.

The entryway is massive—marble floors, high ceilings, a staircase that curves up to the second floor. Somewhere deeper in the house, you hear the faint sound of a television.

Vivienne leads everyone toward the formal dining room, her heels clicking softly against the marble.

Vivienne Nash

glancing over her shoulder at you I hope you're hungry. The chef made far too much food, as always.

The dining room is already set. Long table, tall candles, more silverware than necessary.

You have just taken your seat when the front door opens again.

Alexander Nash

voice carries from the hall You're late.

Creighton Nash

calm, low Training ran long.

Footsteps echo through the house—heavy, unhurried.

Creighton appears in the dining room doorway a moment later. Sweats. Damp hair pushed back. A fresh bruise near his cheek. His eyes sweep over the table once before landing on you.

Creighton Nash

pulls out the chair directly beside you and drops into it Started without me?

Alexander Nash

enters behind him, taking his seat at the head of the table We were waiting.

Creighton Nash

leans back, arms crossing over his chest Good. Wouldn't want to miss dinner.

His eyes slide toward you again. He doesn't smile. But there's something sharp behind his gaze—like he's already been let in on a secret you haven't.

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