The Morning After

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Jackson's deep voice cut through the hazy tendrils of sleep, rousing Ava from her slumber.

She blinked, disoriented, taking in the sumptuous bedroom that was still so foreign to her. And there, perched on the edge of the bed, was her temporary husband, looking far too put-together for this early hour.

"What time is it?" Ava croaked, pushing herself upright. The sheet pooled around her waist, and she suddenly realized she was wearing nothing but a flimsy silk camisole.

Jackson's gaze dipped to her chest, lingering on the peaked outline of her nipples against the fabric. "Early. But we have a busy day ahead of us."

Ava's sleep-fogged brain struggled to catch up. "We do?"

"Mmhmm. Starting with breakfast with the board of directors." He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "I need my wife by my side, looking pretty and playing nice."

Ava's stomach knotted. Another performance, another charade to keep up. She was so tired of pretending.

"Do I have to?" she blurte