Chapter Text
Agatha Harkness had a reputation, and she wore it like armor. “The Ice Queen,” they called her in hushed whispers at staff meetings. Her heels clicked across the sleek floors of Harkness Publishing with the precision of a metronome, each step a warning shot. No one dared to interrupt her stride, not even her assistant, Rio Vidal, who was currently trying to match Agatha’s pace while clutching two coffee cups and a precarious stack of manuscripts.
“Miss Harkness,” Rio began, dodging a distracted editor in the hallway. “Your 11:00 with the board is confirmed, and the Swedish publisher is rescheduling their call to tomorrow. Also, your lawyer left three voicemails about—”
“Not now,” Agatha snapped, not breaking her stride. “If I wanted a running commentary, I’d hire a stenographer.”
Rio bit back a retort, pressing her lips into a thin line. She was used to Agatha’s brusque demeanor, but some mornings, it grated more than others. Like today, when she’d been up half the night fixing Agatha’s latest PR disaster.
As they reached the corner office, Agatha finally slowed, her perfectly manicured fingers tightening around the door handle. She turned to Rio, her sharp blue eyes narrowing. “Did you at least get my espresso right this time?”
“Yes, Miss Harkness,” Rio said with a forced smile, handing over the cup. She didn’t bother mentioning that she’d triple-checked the order after last week’s tirade about foam consistency.
Agatha took a sip, her expression unreadable. “Adequate,” she said, sweeping into her office and letting the door close firmly behind her.
Rio exhaled slowly, muttering under her breath as she walked back to her desk. “You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”
The afternoon passed in a blur of emails, meetings, and one particularly heated phone call that ended with Agatha barking at a supplier in French. By the time Rio managed to sneak in a ten-minute lunch break, Agatha’s voice echoed through the intercom.
“Rio, in my office. Now.”
Rolling her eyes, Rio grabbed her notepad and stepped inside. Agatha was seated at her desk, her jaw tight, an unusual tension in her posture.
“We have a problem,” Agatha said without preamble, tossing a thick folder onto the desk. The pages fanned out like evidence in a courtroom.
Rio leaned forward, scanning the documents. “Immigration paperwork?”
Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “My visa has been denied. Again. Apparently, Homeland Security thinks I’m not ‘integrated enough into American culture.’” Her voice dripped with disdain.
Rio raised an eyebrow. “Well, you did once call Thanksgiving ‘a glorified excuse for gluttony and colonial guilt.’”
Agatha shot her a withering look. “This isn’t a joke. If I don’t fix this, I’ll be deported, and everything I’ve built here will collapse. The board will have my head.”
Rio folded her arms. “And what does this have to do with me?”
Agatha hesitated for half a second, just long enough for Rio to sense danger. “I need a fiancé.”
The words hung in the air like a storm cloud.
Rio blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re unmarried, presentable enough, and most importantly, you work for me,” Agatha said briskly, as if she were discussing a minor scheduling adjustment. “We’ll stage an engagement, go through the motions, and once my residency is secure, you’ll get that promotion you’re always whining about.”
Rio stared at her, incredulous. “You want me to fake a relationship with you? That’s insane!”
“What’s insane,” Agatha countered, “is how much I pay you to fetch coffee and take notes. Think of this as a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Rio opened her mouth to argue, but the look in Agatha’s eyes stopped her cold. Beneath the sharp edges and icy facade, there was something raw, desperation, maybe, or fear. For a moment, Rio almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
“Fine,” Rio said at last, her tone laced with exasperation. “But if we’re doing this, I have conditions. First, I get that promotion. Second, you treat me like a human being for once.”
Agatha arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Deal.”
As Rio turned to leave, she muttered under her breath, “This is going to be a disaster.”
Agatha’s voice followed her out the door. “Not if you play your part right.”
Rio leaned back against the windowsill, the cool breeze from the open window brushing her face, but it didn’t offer any relief from the heat that had settled between her and Agatha.
She had agreed to marry Agatha. It had been a snap decision, one made in the heat of the moment, and now, the weight of it was starting to sink in. She had always known Agatha was used to getting what she wanted, but this? This was a new level of crazy.
And yet, when Agatha had looked at her, really looked at her, something in Rio’s gut twisted. Maybe it was the desperation in her eyes, the raw honesty that slipped past the usual walls. Maybe it was just the undeniable chemistry between them that seemed to ignite any time they were near each other.
But what was this really? A favor. A piece of paper that would keep Agatha from being deported. And Rio, well, Rio wasn’t exactly heartbroken about playing along.
But she hadn’t expected it to feel like this, like it was starting to mean something more. Even as she told herself it was just a technicality, her mind kept drifting back to the quiet moments with Agatha, to the way her fingers brushed against Rio’s in passing, to the way her smile softened when she thought no one was looking.
“You ready for this?” Rio’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned her head to see Agatha standing in the doorway, looking anything but ready. Her dress was sharp, businesslike, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes that Rio hadn’t seen before. The Agatha Harkness everyone knew, cold, calculating, unshakable, was gone. In her place was someone who looked just a little bit human.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” Rio said, her voice steady even if her pulse wasn’t. She pushed herself off the windowsill and straightened, walking toward Agatha. “I don’t know what your plan is here, but I’m in. Just… don’t expect me to play nice for too long, okay?”
Agatha smirked, but it was tinged with something more real than usual. “Don’t worry. I’m not expecting anything from you except a signature and a couple of nights of pretending to be your fiancé.”
Rio’s mouth twitched. “Good. Because I’m not pretending to like you. But I can pretend we’re in love.”
“You can do more than that,” Agatha shot back, her voice lighter now, teasing. “I’m sure you’ll be a convincing bride.”
Rio’s gaze darkened. She took a step closer, her breath coming a little faster now. “Don’t make me regret this,” she warned softly. She wasn’t sure why, but something about Agatha’s cocky attitude was setting her nerves on edge.
Agatha didn’t back away. Instead, she met her gaze, unflinching. “Trust me, Rio. I don’t plan on letting you regret anything.”
The challenge in Agatha’s voice made Rio’s heart beat faster. It wasn’t just the playful banter, though. It was something else entirely. She didn’t want to admit it, but the way Agatha was looking at her, the way she was always looking at her, it wasn’t just professional. It wasn’t just about the arrangement. There was something simmering beneath the surface, something that Rio wasn’t ready to confront.
They both knew it.
“Alright,” Rio said, voice steadying as she forced herself to take a step back. “Let’s get this over with then.”
Agatha’s smirk returned, but there was something warm behind it now, a spark that hadn’t been there before. “It’s going to be a hell of a ride, Rio.”
She wasn’t sure why, but Rio couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. “That, I’m sure of.”
Agatha sat in the sterile, overly polished waiting room of the lawyer’s office, her fingers restless on her lap as she stared at the unyielding wooden table between her and Rio. She could feel Rio’s presence next to her, almost like an electric current, the hum of tension that had been building since the moment they agreed to this charade.
Her mind kept drifting back to that moment earlier in the week when they’d received the phone call from the lawyer’s office, confirming the appointment. They’d been told to bring proof of their relationship, to come prepared with shared stories, photographs, even details about their personal lives. For a moment, Agatha had thought about turning it down. It wasn’t a situation she had ever imagined herself in, pretending to be in a relationship, much less to someone like Rio Vidal. But the pressure had mounted, and what choice did she have?
She had heard Rio shuffle slightly next to her and fought the urge to turn her head. It wasn’t even the physical proximity that bothered her. It was the way Rio made her feel...unsettled, as if everything she thought she knew was being questioned with each quiet glance.
The moment Rio had suggested this “family visit” to her parents’, Agatha had seen it for what it was. An excuse. A lie wrapped in a bow, made to look convincing enough for a lawyer to buy it.
But Rio had a way of making the absurd feel like a possibility. It was in the way she carried herself, the quiet confidence that rippled through everything she did. It was in her steady gaze, the way she didn’t flinch when their eyes met.
“Do you think they’ll buy it?” Agatha asked quietly, breaking the silence.
The question was loaded, more than just about the lawyer. It was a subtle admission, a crack in the armor she had worked so hard to build. Rio shifted, her lips curling into that familiar, infuriatingly smug smile that made Agatha’s stomach tighten.
“You’re asking me that now?” Rio said with a chuckle. “It’s a little late for second thoughts, don’t you think?”
Agatha’s fingers clenched at her sides. The silence between them stretched, and Agatha could feel the weight of Rio’s presence beside her, the air thick with something unspoken. Rio’s voice had been too calm, too sure, as if she already knew exactly how Agatha would feel about this whole situation. And maybe she did. Rio was always five steps ahead, always knowing things Agatha never would.
The door to the lawyer’s office opened, and a young woman in a sharp suit stepped into the waiting room. Agatha didn’t move. Rio, however, stood, her posture unbothered, as though this was just another day at the office.
“Ms. Harkness, Ms. Vidal?” the woman asked, her eyes briefly flicking to Agatha before landing on Rio, as if Rio were the one she expected to see.
Agatha stood as well, smoothing her blazer and following Rio toward the door. The lawyer led them inside, and they took seats at a glossy desk, a stack of paperwork already waiting.
The next hour passed in a blur of questions and rehearsed answers. They were asked to explain how they met, how long they’d been together, and to describe their “plans” for the future. Agatha answered with practiced precision, even when Rio’s casual remarks made her heart race in ways that had nothing to do with the lawyer’s interrogation. The woman seemed to buy it, everything was neat, too neat. Too polished. But Agatha kept her gaze on Rio, watching how easily she slipped into her role, making the lies sound like truths.
And then it came: “Tell me about your family. About your traditions,” the lawyer asked, flipping through the papers in front of her.
Agatha’s eyes flicked to Rio, catching the way the younger woman’s face softened for a moment, like she was letting something real slip through the cracks.
“Well, our family has this annual community picnic,” Rio said, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “They’ve always been… family-oriented. We get together every year to celebrate. Big dinners. Lots of food. It’s not much, but it’s… ours.”
Agatha’s heart stuttered in her chest, the honesty in Rio’s voice throwing her off balance. There was no pretense now. No games. Just a glimpse of the person Rio might be under all the bravado. Agatha’s breath hitched, but she kept her eyes trained on the lawyer, pretending she hadn’t just heard the shift in Rio’s tone.
“Sounds lovely,” the lawyer said, seemingly satisfied. “And where will the celebration take place?”
“At my family home,” Rio answered without hesitation, glancing briefly at Agatha, her eyes flickering with a spark of something. “It’s a tradition. You’ll love it, Agatha.”
The way Rio said her name, so soft, almost tender, pulled Agatha out of her thoughts. Her throat tightened. It was ridiculous how something as simple as Rio’s voice could have this effect on her.
The lawyer nodded, satisfied with the details. “We’ll need to submit these details for review,” she said, rising from her seat. “But everything looks good. I’m confident you’ll be able to present a strong case for the immigration office.”
As they stood, the tension didn’t lift. Agatha felt it in the air between them. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot. She was still playing a role. They both were.
As they left the office, Agatha glanced at Rio, who seemed far too relaxed. They had successfully fooled the lawyer, but Agatha wasn’t so sure about herself. There was too much… unspoken truth between them now. Too much unfinished business.
As they stepped into the elevator, Rio glanced over at her with that same half-smile, her eyes dark with something Agatha couldn’t name.
“You’re going to love my family,” Rio said, and Agatha felt a small, treacherous part of her believe it.
Rio stared out the small, round window of the plane, watching the coastal town come into view. She had always loved this place, her home, where the quiet and the stillness were somehow comforting, like the world outside slowed down long enough to breathe.
But this time, something felt different. Something in the air had shifted, and it wasn’t just the cold or the long hours spent in the cramped seat next to Agatha. It was the weight of what was about to happen. They were headed to her parents’ house in Cais Azul, to the small town where everyone knew everyone, and where the people knew her a little too well.
There was no pretending here, no escaping into her usual, easy confidence. This wasn’t just about playing the part of the happily engaged couple. This was real life, where everything was magnified in the quiet corners of small towns. Agatha wasn’t just meeting her family. She was stepping into the world where Rio had grown up, the one she’d left behind years ago, the one full of memories and expectations.
She felt Agatha shift beside her, the warmth of her body brushing just a little too close. It wasn’t a deliberate move, but it made Rio’s pulse quicken all the same. The air between them had been thickening for days, and no matter how much Rio tried to ignore it, it was there... unavoidable, undeniable.
“Do you think they’ll buy it?” Agatha asked quietly, her voice just above a whisper as the plane began to descend.
Rio glanced over, catching the flash of uncertainty in Agatha’s eyes. It was rare, that look. Agatha always seemed so sure of herself, commanding and sharp. But now? Now, there was a crack in her armor. Rio didn’t know what to make of it, but she knew it meant something.
“They’ll buy it,” Rio said, her voice low, but steady. “Trust me. My family’s been expecting me to settle down with someone for years. They won’t question it.”
It was easier to say than it was to feel. She had always been the one who ran from commitment, from expectations. She wasn’t the family type. But Agatha was different. Agatha was an enigma—cold, sharp, yet warm in ways Rio couldn’t explain.
They hadn’t talked much about their plan after this. About what would happen when they returned to New York, about how to go back to normal... whatever that meant. Rio didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not with the tension humming just beneath the surface.
The plane touched down with a slight jolt, and Rio felt the familiar rush of anxiety twist in her stomach. It wasn’t about the flight or the trip, but about what was coming next.
The town of Cais Azul unfolded like a postcard: rolling green hills meeting white sand beaches, cottages painted in sun-faded pastels, and cobblestone streets weaving through bustling markets. Agatha stared out the car window, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the relentless cheer of it all.
“Quaint,” she muttered, her voice flat.
Rio, seated beside her, barely glanced up from the wheel. “You mean ’utterly charming and better than anything in your cold, corporate world.’”
Agatha tilted her head. “I mean quaint. But I’m sure I’ll survive.”
“You’re already making an impression,” Rio quipped as they turned onto a narrow street.
The Vidal family home was a sprawling, sun-drenched estate perched at the edge of the ocean, its gardens blooming with lavender and wild roses. As soon as Rio parked, the front door swung open, and a whirlwind of relatives descended.
“Rio!”
Her mother, a striking woman with graying curls and a warm smile, enveloped her daughter in a hug before turning to Agatha. “And you must be the fiancée. My goodness, you’re stunning.”
“Agatha Harkness,” she said, extending a hand. “Pleasure.”
Rio’s mother ignored the hand entirely, pulling Agatha into a firm embrace. Agatha stiffened, her body rigid as stone.
“Mom,” Rio warned, smirking as she caught Agatha’s expression.
“Oh, hush,” her mother said, stepping back. “It’s how we do things here.”
Rio’s father emerged next, a tall, reserved man who nodded politely at Agatha. Then came a small but commanding woman with silver hair tied into a neat bun, her eyes as sharp as a hawk’s.
“Lilia,” Rio said, her tone softening. “This is Agatha.”
The older woman’s gaze flicked between them, lingering on their clasped hands before landing squarely on Agatha. “Hmm.”
Agatha returned the stare, refusing to flinch. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Vidal.”
“Call me Lilia,” the woman replied, her tone smooth but measured. “You’ll find I’m not easily impressed.”
Rio winced, but Agatha smirked. “Neither am I.”
Inside, the house buzzed with warmth and activity. Rio’s younger siblings bickered over dessert preparations while her father grilled fish on the patio. Agatha tried to blend in, but the constant flurry of questions and affectionate jabs left her on edge.
“So, how did you two meet?” Lilia asked over dinner, her voice deceptively casual.
Agatha and Rio exchanged a fleeting glance. Agatha cleared her throat. “I hired Rio as my assistant. One day, she brought me coffee with the wrong milk, and I knew then—”
Rio cut her off. “That she was lactose intolerant and furious. The romance was electric.”
The table erupted in laughter, except for Lilia, whose eyes narrowed slightly.
As the meal progressed, Agatha found herself uncharacteristically quiet, overwhelmed by the sheer vitality of the Vidals. Their conversations overlapped, stories were shared with wild hand gestures, and every so often, someone would pull Rio into a hug or pinch her cheek. It was… a lot.
By the time dessert arrived, Agatha excused herself under the pretense of a phone call. She stepped out onto the patio, the salty breeze brushing against her skin. For a moment, she allowed herself to exhale.
“You’re not used to this, are you?”
The voice startled her. Agatha turned to see Lilia, a glass of wine in hand, her eyes unreadable.
Agatha hesitated before answering. “I’m used to order. Predictability. This… isn’t that.”
Lilia nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “It’s more than that, though. You’re not just out of your element, you’re hiding something.”
Agatha’s spine straightened. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Lilia smiled faintly, a predator who had caught the scent of blood. “You’re very convincing, Miss Harkness. But I’ve lived long enough to know when something isn’t real.”
The next morning, Rio led Agatha into town for the local market. Agatha, in her perfectly tailored blazer and heels, looked absurdly out of place among the casual, barefoot locals.
“Would it kill you to wear flats?” Rio teased as they passed by vendors selling fresh fish and homemade pastries.
“Flats are for amateurs,” Agatha replied, though her grimace betrayed the discomfort in her stride.
They turned a corner, and suddenly, Rio froze. Agatha followed her gaze to a tall woman with auburn hair, a soft smile, and a presence that immediately set her on edge.
“Wanda,” Rio said, her tone carefully neutral.
Wanda’s eyes lit up. “Rio! It’s been ages!”
Before Rio could respond, Wanda pulled her into a warm hug, her hands lingering a second too long on Rio’s back. When she finally stepped back, her gaze landed on Agatha.
“And you are?” Wanda asked, her voice honey-sweet but with a subtle edge.
“Agatha Harkness,” she replied coolly. “Rio’s fiancée.”
Wanda’s smile faltered, just for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “Fiancée? Well, isn’t that a surprise?”
Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t it?”
The tension was palpable as the three women stood in awkward silence. Finally, Wanda turned back to Rio, her expression softening. “We should catch up sometime. It’s been too long.”
Rio nodded, her face unreadable. “Sure. I’ll see you around.”
As Wanda walked away, Agatha crossed her arms, her tone icy. “She seems… friendly.”
Rio sighed. “Don’t start.”
Agatha raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.”
But the way Rio avoided her gaze spoke volumes, and for the first time, Agatha felt a flicker of something unfamiliar: insecurity.