His Fake Fiancée Is Mine

Start Reading

Just as I tipped off my childhood best friend, telling him to bring Manhattans reigning IT girl to catch me red-handed after I had supposedly slipped a roofie into her billionaire fianc's drink, a few lines of glowing text materialized in the air right before my eyes.

[The villainous side-chick and her bestie are actual morons. Do they really think the heir to the Winslow empire got drugged? The glass was swapped ages ago!]

[Seriously. The main couple gets into one little fight, and these two try to swoop in. Trash really does attract trash.]

[Whatever, theyre just pawns in the main couples twisted foreplay. As soon as the female lead kicks the door down and realizes the male lead is perfectly fineand was just testing this little pick-me girltheyll finally get their happily ever after.]

[Yep! And the side-chick and her buddy are going to get tossed off a yacht into international waters!]

A violent shudder ripped through me.

I violently dodged Cole Winslows searingly hot mouth.

"Mr. Winslow! Let's get you to a hospital!"

Coles eyes narrowed into dark, dangerous slits. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, thick with a dangerous kind of frustration. "What?"

Honestly.

...

I knew my current setupone shoulder of my blouse strategically slipping down, my eyes pooled with practiced, misty tearsmade my sudden shift to playing the responsible citizen entirely unconvincing.

But my voice trembled anyway. "Youre not acting right. I think someone spiked your drink. Im taking you to the ER right now."

I tried to scramble off the sofa, but Coles hand snapped out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist like a vice. With one effortless tug, I was yanked right back, trapped flush against his chest.

His breathing was undeniably heavy, but the curve of his lips was pure, mocking amusement. "And how would you know I was drugged? Maybe Im just running a fever."

Because Im the one who drugged you, you lunatic.

Also, his body was entirely too hard against mine. It was incredibly distracting.

Desperate, I tried to squirm into a safer position.

Coles arm banded around my waist, his voice dropping an octave into a lethal warning. "Don't move if you want to live."

I froze. Completely and utterly still.

Which gave me ample time to read the floating, holographic text scrolling in my peripheral vision.

[The combined IQ of the side-chick and her boy toy is hovering somewhere around room temperature.]

[Agreed. Who buys a knock-off aphrodisiac from the dark web that looks like a damn Alka-Seltzer tablet?]

[I was howling when she handed him the glass and it was literally fizzing and bubbling.]

[When you're too stunned to speak, you just have to laugh.]

My stomach plummeted as the memory hit me. When I had handed Cole the glass, I hadnt dared to look him in the eye. The water had been aggressively carbonated, bubbles violently shooting to the surface.

Cole had raised an elegant brow. "I asked for still water."

I had been sweating bullets, lying through my teeth. "It's... purified sparkling."

He had just let out a low chuckle, taking the glass from me, the pad of his index finger deliberately tracing the sensitive center of my palm as he did.

Then, room service had called. I had stepped away to answer the phone.

That had to be when he swapped the glasses.

...

Cole had known from the absolute beginning. And yet, he had sat there, playing along with my pathetic little charade.

Cole had the kind of aristocratic, ruinously handsome face that belonged on the cover of Forbes, but right now, the corners of his eyes were flushed a deep, sinful red. His lips were darker than usual, and his chest rose and fell in a jagged rhythm, like a man fighting to breathe.

Beneath the crisp white of his dress shirt, his muscles were tense, a thin sheen of sweat making his pale skin gleam under the dim penthouse lighting.

Wait a minute.

There had only been two glasses on that table.

Because I was so nervous, I had chugged my glass for liquid courage.

I took a rapid inventory of my body. I felt fine. No sudden surges of heat, no loss of control.

I whipped my head toward the coffee table.

Coles glass was empty.

When I had turned back from the phone call, I remembered seeing the bubbles still rising in his glass. He had taken a long sip, his dark eyes fixed on me over the rim.

There had been a challenge in his gaze.

And something else. Something... feral.

The floating text suddenly exploded with realization.

[Wait, is the male lead just acting? Give him an Oscar.]

[No, look at him. I think he actually drank the spiked one.]

[The tension is literally going to blow up my screen.]

[Relax, everyone. Don't forget the female lead is on her way. She's the ultimate antidote.]

[The male lead is so unhinged. I love it.]

[Hes about to play Blair Kensington like a fiddle.]

Blair Kensington. Manhattans untouchable heiress.

So, Cole and Blair were the destined protagonists of this universe.

And my childhood best friend, Miles, and I were nothing but the pathetic clowns paving their road to true love.

And I had just texted Miles.

Come catch us.

Copy that.

I frantically reached for my phone, desperate to abort the mission.

But before my fingers could brush the screen, Coles hand threaded into my hair, and he kissed me. The wet, desperate sound of his mouth crashing against mine drowned out the frantic hammering of my own heart. It felt like my eardrums were going to shatter.

He was losing his mind.

His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth sinking gently into my exposed shoulder.

"Don't be scared, Harper," he murmured against my skin. "I'll be gentle."

But I was terrified. Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and fast.

Getting eaten by sharks in the middle of the Atlantic sounded excruciatingly painful.

Feeling the wetness on my cheeks, Cole froze. He pulled back, his dark eyes instantly clearing of the haze.

"What's wrong?"

I fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

"I don't want to..."

Cole went deathly still.

For a long, agonizing moment, the silence stretched between us. Then, he collapsed back against the sofa cushions, throwing one arm over his eyes, his long legs sprawling out.

His voice was a gravelly, tight command. "Call Dr. Wilder."

I dialed the private chauffeur on one line and Coles concierge doctor on the other.

During the suffocatingly tense car ride to Dr. Wilder's private Upper East Side clinic, I pressed myself flush against the opposite door, completely terrified to even glance in Coles direction.

Under the cover of my purse, my thumbs flew across my phone screen, blasting messages to Miles.

Abhort! Don't come here. Go to the hospital.

Weve been set up! Were going to die!

Nothing. Total radio silence.

Oh god. Had Miles already been dragged off to a pier somewhere?

Once I successfully handed Cole over to the discreet staff at the private clinic, I immediately dialed a number I had frantically Googled.

Tears were streaming down my face.

"Yes, I understand. But I want the mahogany urns with the gold inlay. Yes, for two."

"It needs to look expensive. They care about that sort of thing."

"If I buy the premium funeral package, is there a discount?"

"Can we do a dual plot? There's a very high chance it's going to be a package deal."

Just as I was about to aggressively negotiate the price of my own burial, I looked up.

Standing at the end of the hospital corridor was Miles. He looked like a ghost.

Our eyes locked.

In that single, loaded glance, we both knew.

He had seen the floating text too.

We sprinted toward each other, huddling in the corner like two terrified fugitives.

I hissed at him, "Did you not see my texts?!"

Miles let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "Blair dropped my phone in a pitcher of margaritas."

"Why?!"

"She said someone slipped something in her drink! She asked me to choose between my phone or her."

"And what did you say?!"

"She... she kissed me."

As he said it, a pathetic, unmistakable flush of red crept up Miles's stupidly handsome face.

"Why are you blushing?!" I whisper-yelled, slapping his arm. "Do you not realize the gravity of the situation?!"

I wanted to rip my hair out. "I was literally just negotiating a two-for-one deal on our cemetery plots, Miles!"

Miles looked at me, a complicated expression crossing his features.

"Ive been standing here for five minutes listening to you. It was very obvious you were only booking the premium plot for yourself, and I was going to be the discounted add-on."

I choked on my own spit.

The floating text above us was having a field day.

[God laughs when these two try to form a thought.]

[A mahogany urn? Girl, the sharks aren't going to leave enough of you to fill a shot glass. You need a cenotaph.]

[Dumb and Dumber really think they can outsmart the leads.]

[Wait though, why are the main leads acting so weird? Why was Blair drugged too?]

[The male second lead's doing, obviously.]

Miles scrambled to defend himself. "The second Blair lunged at me, I shoved her away! Im not dying for a kiss. That kind of risk requires a massive hazard pay!"

"I rejected Cole, too."

The moment the words left my mouth, a heavy, suffocating silence fell between us.

Because the undeniable truth was this:

I was hopelessly in love with Cole, and Miles was completely obsessed with Blair.

But Cole and Blair were the golden couple. New York royalty.

So, naturally, Miles and I became each others toxic enablers.

When they were happily together, we watched from the shadows, wallowing in our unrequited misery.

When they broke up, we sharpened our claws and waited for our moment to strike.

A fresh wave of terror washed over me.

I grabbed Miles by the lapels of his jacket, forcing an emergency post-mortem. "Okay, think. We havent done anything too unforgivable to them, right?"

Miles stared at me. "..."

Cole and Blair. The heir to a global hedge fund and the daughter of a real estate empire.

But back in high school, the two titans had apparently done something to piss off their respective dynasties.

They were exiled from their elite Swiss boarding schools and dropped right into our mundane, upper-middle-class prep school in upstate New York.

The moment they arrived, they effortlessly claimed the number one and number two spots in the class rankings, knocking Miles and me down to third and fourth.

And it wasn't even close. The academic gap between us was a gaping canyon.

This was a massive problem. It directly threatened our full-ride scholarships.

So, when we discovered that the two untouchable prodigies were actually a toxic, on-again-off-again couple, Miles and I had retreated to the bleachers and let out cartoonishly evil villain laughs.

We had laughed so hard we ended up slapping each other across the face.

Miles had clutched his cheek, suddenly snapping out of it.

I had hugged my arms around myself, shivering. "What the hell just possessed us?"

Miles rubbed his jaw, looking disturbed. "I don't know, but your face looked genuinely terrifying just then."

But we quickly brushed off the weird momentary possession.

We executed a flawless infiltration plan. We befriended Cole and Blair.

The goal? To secretly study their academic methods while simultaneously dragging them down into a life of degenerate behavior so their grades would tank.

Our strategy was brilliant.

Miles took Cole out to the sketchiest dive bars, picking fights with local frat boys.

And while Cole was busy throwing punches in the alley, Miles would crouch behind a dumpster, frantically whipping out an AP Calculus textbook and studying under the streetlamp.

Meanwhile, I took Blair to an exclusive underground club. She adapted instantly, ordering bottle service and an entourage of VIP hosts.

While she was busy playing dice games with them, I pulled out my SAT vocabulary flashcards.

I looked at the gorgeous, shirtless host next to me. "Quizz me."

The guy looked wildly uncomfortable. "Look, babe, I don't really do the whole 'strict teacher' domination thing. Ill start laughing."

I clapped my hands over my ears, mortified, as if he had just cursed at me in church.

"I meant quiz me on my AP Vocab words, you degenerate!"

"Oh. Right..."

And so, it went.

Every night, Miles and I would meet up to analyze our sabotage, terrified of leaving any loopholes.

Then the mid-term rankings came out.

Cole was still number one. Blair was still number two.

The sky fell.

Miles and I turned on each other like rabid dogs.

"I thought you said you were getting Cole addicted to nicotine and street brawls!" I shrieked.

Miles looked like he was going to cry out of sheer frustration. "Does Cole look like someone I can influence?! He taught me how to properly smoke a cigar! Do you know how much stress I was under? Every time I tried to sneak a math worksheet in the bathroom stall, my heart was beating out of my chest! He almost caught me three times!"

"Well, what about you?!" Miles fired back. "What happened to dragging Blair into a life of hedonism?!"

I choked. "I tried! I really did! But she dragged me to an underground MMA fight! There were abs everywhere! It was completely distracting, and I had to memorize French conjugations in the dark! And you know that bottle boy who quizzed me on my flashcards? He got a perfect score on his SATs because of me! He just got accepted into Columbia!"

It was useless. The harder we tried, the more miserable we became.

Miles and I had slumped down onto his hand-me-down couch, thoroughly defeated.

Miles let out a soul-crushing sigh. "Forget it. I'm just going to pick up a third shift at the diner."

Since the scholarship money was clearly a lost cause.

"Same. I'm going to see if the gas station needs a graveyard shift."

Miles and I had both grown up in the foster system. We only had each other.

We were smart, but without our stipends and scholarships, we couldn't afford our lives. Before our beloved foster mother passed away, she had left us the tiny, rundown house we shared.

After that, we completely abandoned our sabotage plot. We just wanted to quietly leech off their study habits.

But somehow, Cole and Blair turned us into a crucial element of their twisted foreplay.

Whenever they had a screaming match, if Cole was the one to cave first, he would come to me.

Hed wire me ten grand and order me to text Blair to beg for his forgiveness on his behalf.

The chat logs looked exactly like this:

Me: [Incoming Wire Transfer: 0-00,000.00]

Me: Im giving you ten grand. Please get back together with Cole.

Blair: ?

Blair: Do I look like a charity case? Who the hell is he trying to insult?

Blair: [Incoming Wire Transfer: $20,000.00]

Blair: Tell him to take his pennies and go to hell. Stop texting me. Men only slow down my reading comprehension.

But when I tried to return the money to Cole, hed get disgusted by my incompetence and block my number.

So, Id try to send it back to Blair.

Shed refuse the transfer, and the money would automatically bounce back into my account.

Miles experienced the exact same phenomenon on his end.

And it wasn't just a one-time thing. It happened constantly.

It was as if Cole and Blair possessed a genetic mutation that made them completely blind to the value of currency.

So, Miles and I thrived. We rode the wave of their toxic wealth-blindness, skimming the middleman fees to pay our way through high school, hire private tutors, and eventually close the academic gap between us and the two untouchable heirs.

Now, standing in the hospital corridor, frantically scrolling through our old chat logs to make sure we hadn't crossed any lines, the floating text above us was having an absolute meltdown.

[I HATE THE RICH!]

[Give that money to me! I'll show them what a loyal dog looks like!]

[What about my feelings? I am a kind, innocent bystander on the internet, and I am personally victimized by this wealth gap.]

Miles and I ignored them, still frantically swiping through our histories.

Thankfully, the vast majority of our interactions had just been us silently pining from afar.

Miles: Harper, I think Im still in love with her. I feel sick...

Miles: But she still leaves me on read.

Me: I am begging you to stop texting me.

Me: I heard my phone buzz and thought it was Cole.

Me: But no, it's just your pathetic ass again.

Reading those old texts, Miles and I let out a synchronized breath of relief.

This current drugging fiasco was our one and only time crossing the line from passive observers to active villains. And we had aborted the mission before any real damage was done.

Miles and I locked eyes.

We came to a silent, unanimous agreement.

Stay the hell away from the main characters, and embrace a long, boring, safe life.

The next morning, I walked into the Winslow empire's skyscraper with my resignation letter printed on heavy cardstock, and a sleek black debit card sitting in my pocket.

The card held my entire life savings. Cole was a terrifying boss, but his compensation packages were bordering on absurd.

If people didn't know I was his executive assistant, they would absolutely assume I was his sugar baby.

My resignation letter was a masterpiece of corporate flattery, praising Cole's leadership in thirty different, non-repetitive ways.

I was just standing up from my desk when the VP of Sales practically tackled me.

"Harper, you have to save us. Mr. Winslow is on a warpath."

The VP looked like he was about to burst into tears. "The atmospheric pressure in that boardroom is lethal. Hes slaughtering everyone."

I sighed, clutching my letter. "Me going in there isn't going to fix it."

"Are you kidding? Every time you walk in, its like someone slipped a Xanax in his coffee. The whole room breathes easier."

That was a blatant lie.

But I still grabbed a fresh cup of black coffee and lightly tapped on the glass door of his corner office.

Cole's icy voice cut through the glass. "Enter."

The second I stepped inside, the twelve senior executives looked at me like I was a descending angel.

I put on my best, sweetest voice. "Your coffee, Mr. Winslow."

Cole glanced up from his tablet, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "Did you put sugar in it?"

I blinked, thrown off. "You... you always drink it black."

I guess when a billionaire is in a bad mood, he just wants to watch the world burn.

But then, the corners of Cole's lips twitched upward into a faint smile. "Right. Whatever you say."

He gave a sharp flick of his wrist. Like a herd of terrified gazelles, the executives scrambled out the door, the click of the lock echoing loudly in the silence.

I bit the inside of my cheek, mentally preparing my exit speech.

Cole cleared his throat softly. "Harper."

"Yes?"

"Were in the office. Let's keep things professional."

Huh?

What was I doing?

Cole smirked, his long, elegant finger rising to tap against his own lower lip.

What the hell was this?

Workplace sexual harassment?

When I just stood there, paralyzed, Cole tapped his lip again.

He held the power to ruin my life with a single phone call, and I was terrified of him.

But I was a changed woman. I was embracing a new, moral life.

I squared my shoulders, adopting a tone of rigid righteousness. "Mr. Winslow! I don't know how things operate in your tax bracket, but where I come from, administrative assistants do not make out with their bosses!"

Silence hung in the air for five agonizing seconds. Then, a low, dark laugh rumbled in Cole's chest.

"So last night was just a slip-up?"

It was the definition of a catastrophic mistake!

But since he seemed to be in a strangely good mood, now was the perfect time to drop the bomb.

I slid the heavy envelope across his mahogany desk.

Coles smile vanished instantly.

He pinched the corner of the envelope between two fingers, staring at the words Resignation for a long, calculating moment.

He let out a sharp, dismissive scoff.

"What is this?"

I kept my customer-service smile plastered on. "I am so incredibly grateful for the mentorship you've provided over the last three years, Mr. Winslow. But my career trajectory has shifted, and Im looking to spread my wings in a new"

Cole cut me off with a bored hum.

"You want a raise."

My heart stung. After all this time, did he really just view me as a shallow gold digger?

I offered a sad, self-deprecating smile. "Mr. Winslow, it isn't about the money."

Cole didn't even look up. He just uncapped his Montblanc pen and started signing a stack of contracts.

"One million base salary."

I stood my ground. "You can't just throw money at me and expect me to compromise my boundaries."

"Ten million."

"I will literally do whatever you want."

The floating text above Cole's head descended into sheer chaos.

[The side-chick has no spine. Honestly, I would have folded at the one million.]

[Give me 500k and I'll bark like a dog!]

[Don't ruin the market rate! I'll do it for thirty bucks and a MetroCard...]

[What is the male lead doing?! Keeping her around is basically planting a time bomb in his relationship!]

When I showed up at Miless apartment that evening, my stomach was in knots.

I had stopped by Whole Foods on the way and bought the outrageously overpriced organic fruit, trying to soften the blow.

We had promised each other. We were going to quit our jobs, cut ties with the billionaires, and start fresh.

And not only had I failed to quit, I had secured an astronomical raise.

But the second I pushed open his front door, I stopped dead.

Miles was wearing a floral apron, turning around with a blinding, domestic smile. "You're here!"

It was sickeningly picturesque.

And then I looked at his dining table.

It was a literal Michelin-star feast. Beef Wellington. Lobster risotto.

Ha.

"You didn't quit, did you?" I asked flatly.

Miless spine went rigid. He pressed his lips together, looking like he was about to drop to his knees and beg for mercy.

But then his eyes darted to the $40 bag of organic pomegranates in my hand. He straightened up instantly, his confidence returning.

"You didn't either." He stated it like a fact.

I sighed. "You got me."

I threw my hands up in defeat. "I couldn't help it! Cole just kept throwing zeroes at me."

But my curiosity won out. "What did you even tell Blair to get her to counter-offer?"

Miles shifted uncomfortably. "I told her I was getting old, and my family wanted me to move back upstate to settle down and go on blind dates."

"And she immediately bumped your salary."

I groaned, massaging my temples. "Of course she did. They are literally the exact same person. Even their retention strategies are identical."

Miles bit his lip.

He looked at me, his voice pitching up in pathetic hope. "Harper... do you think... I mean, is it completely impossible that Blair actually has feelings for me?"

Before I could even open my mouth to crush his dreams, the floating text went feral.

[Bro has a nice face, but he is delusional.]

[Miles, listen to me. You deserve the best, but Blair Kensington is NOT the best. She is a menace.]

[You are literally just a prop in their relationship.]

[If the main couple wasn't currently beefing over a corporate merger, neither of them would even look at you two.]

[Honestly, kind of respect the blind confidence.]

[Am I the only one who thinks Cole and Blair are actually super toxic together? If Harper and Miles had played their cards right growing up, they could have totally stolen them. It proves the main couple's bond isn't bulletproof.]

Honestly, the commenters were right. Miles and I totally had windows of opportunity over the years.

But we were branded as the villains of the story.

Which meant we suffered from a terminal case of wanting the best for each other, but also being violently jealous if the other succeeded.

Once, Cole and Blair got into a massive cold war.

They couldn't even be in the same room without rolling their eyes.

On the surface, Miles and I played the concerned peacekeepers. But behind closed doors, we were popping champagne.

We promised to be each others wingmen.

So, Miles took Cole out to a high-end whiskey bar to talk trash about Blair.

Cole slung an arm over Miless shoulder, his words slurring slightly. "I'm telling you, man. That woman has ice in her veins. She's ruthless."

Miles nodded emphatically. "Exactly. Honestly, whoever ends up marrying her is going to be cursed for eight lifetimes."

(Meanwhile, internally, Miles was screaming that he would gladly take the curse for eight hundred lifetimes if it meant he got to marry her).

They drank until 3 AM.

Miles, who had the alcohol tolerance of a Victorian child, was completely hammered. But he remembered his mission: hype me up to Cole.

So, he flawlessly executed an "accidental" pivot. "Yeah, Blair is terrifying. But man, you don't even know. Harper? When she was three, she threw a lit M-80 firecracker into a porta-potty and covered our foster mom in absolute sewage. Hahaha!"

And with that, the floodgates opened. Miles proceeded to list every single humiliating, unhinged thing I had done since I was a toddler.

How at four, I thought I was a fairy and jumped off a second-story balcony with a bedsheet, giving our foster mom a mild heart attack.

How at five, I saw our bald kindergarten teacher and tried to water his head with a watering can to make his hair grow.

By the end of the night, Cole and Miles were practically crying from laughing so hard.

My cool, mysterious image was obliterated.

After that night, Cole developed a strange affliction where he couldn't even look at me without cracking a smile.

Meanwhile, Miles and Blair started getting dangerously close.

One day, Miles pulled me aside, his eyes shining. "Harper, what kind of guys is Blair actually into?"

I gave him a sweet, supportive smile. "Lean, shredded guys. Total gym rats."

At the time, Miles was built like a string bean.

The next day, he practically moved into Equinox.

After a few months, he actually started to bulk up.

Playing the role of the supportive best friend, I casually suggested, "You should really start taking protein powder. It'll speed things up."

Miles agreed enthusiastically.

So, while cackling like an evil witch in my kitchen, I meticulously replaced his expensive whey protein with cheap, sugary hot chocolate powder.

Miles spent months wondering why his gains had completely plateaued, his self-esteem slowly crumbling.

He was too insecure to confess his feelings to Blair.

He didn't find out the truth until the night we watched Cole and Blair walk the red carpet at the Met Gala, arm-in-arm. We had missed our window again, and in my misery, I confessed my crimes.

Thinking about it now still made my blood boil.

Miles violently shook me by the shoulders. "If you hadn't sabotaged my macros, I would be dating Blair right now!"

I grabbed him by the throat, shaking him right back. "If you hadn't told him about the firecracker, Cole wouldn't burst into laughter every time I tried to flirt with him!"

The floating text was practically sobbing at our stupidity.

[Thank God Blair got away from Cole to realize the world is full of idiots.]

[Fools! Absolute museum-grade imbeciles!]

[They were so terrified of their bestie finding love they nuked their own chances.]

Eventually, we called a truce, collapsing into the dining chairs, gasping for air.

"Whatever. Murder is illegal," I wheezed.

"And I really don't want to lose my five million dollar salary," Miles groaned.

I threw my hands up. "But we have to do something! We need an alibi."

I was not going to end up in a weighted sleeping bag at the bottom of the Hudson.

Miles tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing in thought. "A billionaire CEO and his executive assistant... there's bound to be rumors of an affair."

"Exactly! And I have zero intention of sleeping with Cole Winslow."

Because love is beautiful, but I prefer breathing.

"Harper," Miles said suddenly, his voice dead serious.

"Let's get together."

It only took one look.

I knew exactly what he was playing at.

If Miles and I publicly dated, it was the ultimate show of loyalty to Cole and Blair.

Look at us. We belong to each other. We are absolutely no threat to your relationship.

It was genius.

So, suppressing my intense physical revulsion, I batted my eyelashes and cooed, "Oh, Miles~"

Miless face contorted in disgust for a fraction of a second before he smoothly pulled me into his arms, his voice dripping with fake affection. "My sweet Harper~"

The floating text became an endless sea of ellipses...

[Are they legally allowed to do this?]

[They are starving. Truly starving. They will consume any plotline.]

[Wait, why is the tension kind of crazy right now?]

[I'm... I'm kind of shipping them.]

[The Villainous Power Couple? I'm seated.]