Bangkok traffic was hell on earth. Orm had been stuck in the same spot for twenty minutes, her motorcycle helmet sitting uselessly on the passenger seat as she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.
She sighed, reaching for her smoothie. At least she had that.
That’s when the passenger door swung open.
A woman—no, a goddess dressed in an expensive, bloodstained white suit—slid into the seat like she owned it. She shut the door, pulled off her sunglasses, and pointed a very real gun at Orm.
“If you want to live, drive.”
Orm blinked. Then blinked again.
“…Ma’am, this is a traffic jam.”
The woman’s eye twitched. “Then get out of it.”
“Do you see the ten thousand cars in front of us?”
Orm gestured wildly at the sea of unmoving vehicles. The only way out was to grow wings or develop teleportation powers.
Lingling exhaled sharply through her nose, looking less like a woman in distress and more like an assassin deciding whether Orm was worth the bullet.
Then she reached over, grabbed Orm’s smoothie, and drank it.
Orm gasped. “HEY! That was passion fruit dragon fruit—”
“I just saved your life.” Lingling wiped her mouth and narrowed her eyes. “Your car door was unlocked. I could have been anyone.”
“You are anyone! Who even are you?!”
Before Lingling could answer, a black SUV screeched to a stop behind them. Four men in suits jumped out, looking ready to kill.
Lingling cocked the gun. “Last chance. Drive.”
Orm stared at the suited men. Then at Lingling’s terrifyingly gorgeous face.
“…Alright. But if I get arrested, you’re paying my bail.”
She slammed her foot on the gas.
And promptly crashed into a food cart.
MY NOODLES!” the food vendor screamed.
Orm winced as spilled broth and noodles slid down her windshield. The vendor was yelling something about lawsuits and ruining his family business, but the more immediate problem was the four guys with guns sprinting toward them.
Lingling barely looked fazed. She rolled down the window, pulled out a wad of cash, and tossed it at the vendor.
“For the damages,” she said coolly.
Then she grabbed Orm’s chin, forcing her to look into her sharp, commanding eyes. “Now. Drive properly.”
Orm’s brain short-circuited for two reasons:
Lingling was terrifyingly beautiful up close.
Lingling’s hand was soft and smelled like expensive things Orm couldn’t afford.
The sound of bullets hitting the back of the car snapped Orm out of it.
“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT—” She yanked the wheel and floored the gas pedal, sending the car screaming through a narrow alleyway. Trash cans toppled over, a stray cat leapt out of the way, and somewhere in the chaos, Orm was pretty sure she just ran over a carton of eggs.
Lingling, unbothered, reloaded her gun. “Take a left.”
Orm did not take a left.
She took a right.
“Are you stupid?” Lingling snapped.
“Lady, I don’t even know who I’m running from right now!” Orm shouted. “Cops? Gangsters? Your crazy ex?!”
Lingling sighed, rubbing her temples like she was getting a migraine. “Mafia rivals.”
“Mafia—” Orm almost choked. “Oh, great. I just picked up the Thai John Wick.”
“You should be honored.”
“I SHOULD BE AT HOME WATCHING NETFLIX!”
The SUV behind them wasn’t giving up. It rammed into their bumper, making Orm shriek as she barely avoided hitting a street pole.
“Shoot back or something!” she yelled.
Lingling rolled down the window, aimed her gun, and—
BANG!
The SUV’s tire exploded. The car skidded wildly before flipping onto its side.
Orm screamed.
Lingling calmly rolled the window back up.
“You—you just—” Orm wheezed.
“Relax. They’re alive.” Lingling crossed her arms, looking completely unbothered. “Probably.”
Orm slammed the brakes, whipping her head around. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN PROBABLY?!”
Lingling checked her nails. “Would you rather they killed us?”
Orm opened her mouth. Then closed it.
Fair point.
A heavy silence settled between them. The only sounds were Orm’s ragged breathing and the distant whoop-whoop of police sirens approaching.
Orm was losing her mind.
She was supposed to be on her way home after a long day of deliveries, not running from mafia hitmen with a gun-wielding, bloodstained rich lady in her passenger seat.
Lingling exhaled sharply, glancing in the side mirror. “They’ll regroup soon. Take me somewhere safe.”
Orm snorted. “Oh, sure. Let me just check my list of safe houses for criminals—OH WAIT, I DON’T HAVE ONE.”
Lingling turned to her, looking bored. “Then take me to your house.”
Orm slammed the brakes at a red light and gawked at her. “Are you insane?”
Lingling raised an eyebrow. “Should I just stay in your car?”
“YES.”
A loud BANG suddenly echoed from behind them. The black SUV from before was back, its front bumper smashed but still moving.
Lingling sighed like she was dealing with a particularly annoying customer service call. “Lady.”
“No.”
“Drive. To. Your. House.”
“NO.”
Another bullet hit the trunk of the car.
Orm screamed. “FINE!”
The light turned green, and she stomped on the gas pedal, swerving onto a side street.
Lingling smirked. “Good.”
Orm almost drove into a mailbox.
**********
Twenty minutes later, Orm skidded to a stop outside her apartment complex—a five-story, slightly rundown building with flickering neon lights and a mysterious smell in the hallway.
She turned to Lingling. “Welcome to my five-star mansion.”
Lingling gave her a slow, judgmental once-over. “…It smells like instant noodles.”
“Yeah, well, you smell like rich people and blood, so I guess we’re even.”
Orm led the way up the stairs, muttering about how she should’ve just driven off the highway and let fate decide.
Once inside, Lingling took a single glance at the small, cluttered living space—half-empty coffee cups, laundry on the couch, a fridge covered in delivery receipts—and let out a long sigh.
“I’ve been shot at three times today,” she murmured. “But this is the real nightmare.”
Orm tossed her helmet onto a chair. “Lady, I just saved your life. Maybe don’t insult my house?”
Lingling sat down on the couch like a queen tolerating her peasant subjects. “You have a couch bed.”
Orm threw her arms in the air. “SORRY I’M NOT A MAFIA HEIRESS WITH A GOLDEN BATHTUB.”
Lingling smirked. “It’s marble, actually.”
Orm grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.
Lingling took out a sleek black wallet, pulled out a ridiculous stack of cash, and tossed it onto the coffee table.
“For the car damage,” she said smoothly. “And the emotional distress.”
Orm blinked at the money. Then at Lingling.
“…How bad are these people chasing you?” she asked hesitantly.
Lingling leaned back, completely relaxed. “Bad enough that if they find me here, you’ll be considered a loose end.”
Orm froze.
“I—WHAT?!”
Lingling arched a brow. “Don’t look so dramatic. If you keep your mouth shut and cooperate, you’ll be fine.”
Orm groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I knew it. I knew I should’ve locked my damn car door today. Why do I always forget??”
Lingling smirked. “Lesson learned.”
Orm flopped onto the armchair, glaring at her. “So what now, Mafia Barbie?”
Lingling tapped her fingers together thoughtfully. “Now… you keep me hidden.”
Orm stared. Then snorted. “Yeah. No. Get out.”
Lingling didn’t move.
“…I said get out.”
Lingling gave her an amused look. “Lady. If I leave, I die. And if I die…” She smiled, sweet and terrifying. “So do you.”
Orm’s soul left her body.
She stared at the expensive, beautiful, deadly woman lounging on her couch like she belonged there.
This was, without a doubt, the worst mistake of her life.
Orm sat on the edge of her armchair, arms crossed, watching the most dangerous woman in Bangkok make herself at home on her crappy couch.
She’d been through a lot today. Traffic. Bullet holes in her car. A gun-wielding lunatic hijacking her ride. But this? This was just stupid.
“I’m not hiding you,” Orm said firmly. “I have work. Bills. A life that doesn’t involve dying horribly because I let a mafia criminal crash on my couch.”
Lingling, completely unbothered, inspected her nails. “You talk too much.”
“I don’t talk enough! Because if I did, I’d be calling the police right now!”
Lingling gave her a slow, amused glance. “Go ahead.”
Orm grabbed her phone and held it up dramatically. “I will.”
“Mm.” Lingling stretched, sighing. “Tell them a strange woman with a gun forced you to drive her home. I’m sure the cops will definitely believe a broke delivery girl over Lingling Kwong.”
Orm blinked. “Lingling… Kwong?”
Lingling smirked. “Ah. You have heard of me.”
Orm felt the blood drain from her face.
Lingling Kwong. The Lingling Kwong. The heir to Thailand’s most feared mafia empire. The woman who, rumor had it, once beat up three armed men with a single designer high heel.
And she was currently lounging on Orm’s secondhand couch like it was a luxury resort.
Orm slowly set her phone down. “Okay. Wow.”
Lingling grinned. “Impressed?”
“No. Horrified.”
Lingling chuckled, adjusting her sleeves. “I like you, Orm.”
Orm frowned. “How do you know my name?”
Lingling pointed lazily at the delivery uniform still half-zipped over Orm’s hoodie. “It’s on your name tag.”
Orm groaned. “I hate today.”
Lingling leaned forward, suddenly serious. “Then let’s make it better.”
Orm narrowed her eyes. “What?”
Lingling tilted her head, as if considering something. Then she smiled—slow, calculating. Dangerous.
“Marry me.”
Orm choked.
“WHAT?!”
Lingling said it casually, like she was offering Orm an extra side of fries. “Marry me.”
Orm blinked at her. Then laughed. Then blinked again. “I—what?!”
Lingling sighed like she was explaining something to a toddler. “I need to be married to inherit my family’s business. You need money. I’ll pay for everything. Simple.”
Orm stared at her in disbelief.
“Oh,” she said faintly. “You’re crazy.”
Lingling rolled her eyes. “Do you ever shut up?”
“No, because—because WHAT?! You want me to marry you?! After holding me at gunpoint?!”
Lingling shrugged. “I wasn’t really going to shoot you.”
Orm gaped at her. “THAT’S NOT THE POINT.”
Lingling leaned back, looking amused. “Orm. It’s a business deal. Nothing more.”
Orm gestured wildly. “I don’t—why me?! Find someone else! A rich person! A mafia person! Someone who won’t get murdered in the middle of the night for signing up for this insanity!”
Lingling smirked. “Because you’re nobody.”
Orm scowled. “Wow. Rude.”
“I mean it as a compliment.” Lingling crossed her legs. “You have no connections, no enemies, and no influence. No one will suspect our marriage is a strategic move. It’s perfect.”
Orm rubbed her temples. “I hate how that actually makes sense.”
Lingling leaned forward, her voice smooth as silk. “I’ll pay you well. A house. A car. Any debt you have? Gone. All you have to do is smile, hold my hand at public events, and not run away screaming.”
Orm squinted at her. “You do realize this sounds insane, right?”
Lingling smiled. “Only if you refuse.”
Orm groaned. “I hate this. I hate this so much.”
Lingling tapped her fingers on the table. “It’s a limited-time offer.”
Orm exhaled sharply. “You’re actually serious.”
“As a bullet to the head.”
Orm stood up abruptly and paced the tiny apartment. “Nope. Nope. Not doing it. I am a normal, broke person who delivers food for a living, and I refuse to get involved in mafia nonsense—”
Lingling threw a thick envelope onto the table. It landed with a solid thunk.
Orm eyed it suspiciously. “What’s that?”
Lingling smirked. “A down payment.”
Orm picked it up and cautiously peeked inside.
Cash. So much cash.
Her brain short-circuited.
Lingling rested her chin on her hand. “Still saying no?”
Orm swallowed. Hard.
On the one hand: MAFIA CHAOS.
On the other hand: A RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF MONEY.
She groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “I hate myself.”
Lingling’s smirk widened. “So that’s a yes?”
Orm sighed dramatically.
“…I want a raise.”
Lingling laughed.
**********
Orm regretted everything.
She regretted ever stopping at that red light.
She regretted letting a mafia boss into her car.
She especially regretted signing that damn marriage contract.
Because now?
Now she was standing in an obscenely expensive wedding dress, holding a bouquet that cost more than her entire apartment, while Thailand’s most dangerous woman smirked at her like she’d already won.
Lingling, of course, looked stunning. Smug, but stunning.
“Smile, darling,” Lingling whispered, her breath tickling Orm’s ear. “People are watching.”
Orm gritted her teeth. “I am smiling.”
“You look constipated.”
“I feel constipated.”
Lingling sighed and—before Orm could react—grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close.
Orm yelped. “What are you...?!”
“Relax,” Lingling murmured, leaning in so close their noses almost touched. “Make it believable.”
Orm’s face was on fire.
Orm had never seen so much wealth in one place.
The wedding venue was insane. Golden chandeliers, walls lined with actual silk, and flowers so rare they probably needed bodyguards. There were violins playing softly in the background, and the guests? Half of them looked like they had people killed for fun.
She wasn’t sure if she should be honored or terrified.
“You owe me so much for this,” Orm muttered as Lingling dragged her toward the massive, intimidating altar.
Lingling smirked, looking effortlessly graceful in a white silk suit. “Orm. Darling. You’re marrying the most powerful woman in Thailand. You should be thanking me.”
Orm snorted. “Yeah, because fake marrying a mafia boss is every girl’s dream.”
Lingling’s smirk widened. “Well, my dream is inheriting an empire, and you, my dear wife, are making that possible.”
Orm groaned, resisting the urge to throw her bouquet at her. “I hate this.”
“You’re welcome.”
Few Minutes Later.
“Do you, Lingling Kwong, take Orm Sethratanapong to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” Lingling said smoothly, like she wasn’t forcing an innocent woman into a contractual nightmare.
The priest turned to Orm. “And do you, Orm Sethratanapong, take Lingling Kwong—”
“I guess,” Orm muttered under her breath.
Lingling pinched her waist.
Orm sighed dramatically. “I mean… I do.”
The priest beamed. “Then I now pronounce you....”
Lingling didn’t wait. She grabbed Orm’s chin and kissed her.
Orm’s brain shut down.
It wasn’t a soft, polite kiss. No, of course not. This was a statement. A power move. Lingling’s lips were warm, her hold firm, and Orm could practically hear the gasps of the crowd.
By the time Lingling pulled away, Orm’s face was burning.
“W-What was that?!” Orm hissed.
Lingling looked way too pleased with herself. “A kiss, darling. You might want to get used to them.”
Orm hated everything.
At the wedding reception. She’d been introduced to more dangerous people in two hours than in her entire life. Every single mafia elder had either patted her head like a child or squeezed her shoulders way too hard.
“You have a strong wife,” an old man with a terrifying scar across his cheek told Lingling.
Lingling chuckled, sipping her wine. “She’s a fighter.”
Orm forced a smile. “Haha. Yeah. Totally.”
What she wanted to say: HELP. ME.
And then came the worst part.
Just when she thought the night couldn’t get worse, she arrived.
A tall, elegant woman in a red dress strode toward them like she owned the place. She was beautiful, confident, and had that dangerous aura of someone who could ruin your life and look good doing it.
Orm immediately disliked her.
“Lingling,” the woman purred, stopping beside the table. “Married, huh?”
Lingling smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smug smirk—it was polite. Careful. “Bam.”
Bam. Just Bam. No introduction, no explanation.
Orm raised an eyebrow. Okay, who the hell was this?
Bam ignored her completely, eyes locked on Lingling. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d ever settle down.”
Lingling casually placed an arm around Orm’s chair. “What can I say? She’s special.”
Orm choked on her drink.
Bam finally looked at her, tilting her head like she was evaluating a very disappointing meal. “This is your wife?”
Orm narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Bam smirked. “She’s cute.”
Lingling’s grip on Orm’s waist tightened. “She’s mine.”
Orm’s brain short-circuited.
Okay, what the hell was happening?
Bam chuckled, completely unfazed. “Relax, darling. I’m just teasing.”
Lingling didn’t look convinced.
Orm, on the other hand, needed several shots of whiskey.
**********
Later that night. Orm stood in Lingling’s obnoxiously luxurious penthouse, staring at the one massive bed in the room.
“No.”
Lingling, already dressed in silky pajamas, raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“I’m not sharing a bed with you,” Orm said firmly, crossing her arms.
Lingling leaned against the doorway, looking way too amused. “Would you prefer the floor?”
Orm scowled. “I’ll take the couch.”
Lingling smirked. “Suit yourself.”
As Orm marched to the too-small couch, Lingling sauntered over to the bed, stretching lazily.
“Oh, and Orm?”
Orm sighed. “What?”
Lingling smirked. “Sweet dreams, wife.”
Orm groaned and buried her face in a pillow.
She was so doomed.
************
Orm had expected her life to go back to somewhat normal after the wedding.
She was wrong.
Now she had to live with a mafia boss, attend fancy criminal meetings, and pretend to be madly in love with Lingling while trying not to die in the process.
The worst part?
It was actually kind of fun.
Lingling had officially taken over her family’s empire, and watching her work was… oddly impressive. She was ruthless in business, terrifying in negotiations, and frustratingly attractive when she was focused.
And Orm?
Orm was annoyingly drawn to her.
She told herself it was just because they spent so much time together. That it was definitely not because Lingling sometimes brought her coffee in the morning or the way she defended Orm whenever some mafia elder got too nosy.
Nope. Definitely not.
Meanwhile. Lingling. She was falling for her fake wife.
It started small. She caught herself watching Orm more than she should. She started enjoying their ridiculous bickering. She liked how Orm never backed down from her.
But the real problem? Her name was Bam.
Bam, who had suddenly decided Orm was the most interesting thing in the world.
Bam, who kept showing up at their events, conveniently sitting too close to Orm, laughing at her jokes, and flirting.
Lingling hated it. Orm didn’t seem to mind.
One night at Dinner party.
Orm stood by the bar, sipping her drink, when Bam slid in next to her.
“You look stunning tonight,” Bam purred, giving her a slow once-over.
Orm raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to make your move again?”
Bam smirked. “I like a challenge.”
Orm snorted. “You like pissing off Lingling.”
Bam chuckled. “That too.”
Before Orm could reply, an icy voice interrupted.
“Is there a problem?”
Lingling appeared out of nowhere, placing a possessive hand on Orm’s waist. Her expression? Lethal.
Bam simply grinned. “Chill, darling. I was just keeping your wife entertained.”
Lingling’s grip tightened. “She doesn’t need your entertainment.”
Orm blinked. “Uhm?”
Lingling ignored her, eyes locked on Bam like a threat.
Bam raised her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. No need for bloodshed....yet.”
She winked at Orm before sauntering away.
Lingling huffed. “Unbelievable.”
Orm smirked. “You’re jealous.”
Lingling scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You totally are.”
Lingling narrowed her eyes. “Do you want me to shoot her?”
Orm laughed. “You are jealous.”
Lingling gritted her teeth. “I hate you.”
Orm grinned. “No, you don’t.”
Lingling sighed, dragging Orm toward the dance floor. “Shut up and dance with me.”
Orm let herself be pulled in, arms wrapping around Lingling’s shoulders.
Orm let herself be pulled in, arms wrapping around Lingling’s shoulders.
She should have been panicking. She should have been thinking about how insane all of this was.
But instead, she just thought—
I might actually be in trouble.
Like, actual trouble. Not the “mafia assassins chasing her” kind of trouble (although that had happened twice this week), but the emotional kind. The oh no, I might actually like my fake wife kind.
And that was so much worse.
Because Lingling? She was dangerous. Not just in the I can kill a man with a hairpin way, but in the I can make you feel things you’re not ready for way.
Like now.
They were at home—well, Lingling’s ridiculously expensive penthouse, but Orm had kind of started calling it home (mistake number one).
Lingling was sitting on the couch, scrolling through something on her tablet. She was wearing one of those silky robes, half tied, which was completely unnecessary and should be illegal.
Orm, meanwhile, was aggressively trying to focus on the TV.
“You’re staring,” Lingling said without looking up.
Orm scoffed. “No, I’m not.”
Lingling smirked. “I can feel it, Orm.”
Orm scowled. “Please, you’re not that special.”
Lingling finally turned to look at her, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh? Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not—” Orm grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Lingling’s face.
Lingling caught it effortlessly, laughing. “Admit it, you’re getting attached.”
Orm crossed her arms. “Pfft. Please. This is just… forced proximity.”
Lingling leaned closer, voice dropping. “You sure?”
Orm swallowed. “Yes.”
Lingling studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. If you say so.”
Then she stood up and stretched, the movement making her robe slip just enough to be distracting.
Orm quickly turned back to the TV. “I hate this household.”
**********
Orm thought Lingling would forget about the whole jealousy thing.
She was wrong.
It became painfully obvious at their next social event.
They had barely walked in when Bam appeared, as if summoned by pure chaos.
“Orm,” Bam greeted, looking her over. “You clean up nicely.”
Lingling, standing beside her, visibly tensed.
Orm smirked. “Are you always this flirty?”
Bam winked. “Only with people who interest me.”
Lingling immediately pulled Orm closer, practically gluing their bodies together. “Orm, sweetheart,” she said in a suspiciously sweet tone. “Why don’t you introduce me properly?”
Orm raised an eyebrow. “Uh. You already know each other?”
Lingling smiled. It was not a friendly smile. “Not as my wife’s date.”
Bam chuckled. “Relax, Ling. I’m just having fun.”
Lingling’s grip on Orm’s waist tightened.
“Oh, I’m relaxed,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Bam smirked. “Sure you are.”
Orm, caught between them, sighed. This is my life now.
But when Lingling pulled her away to the dance floor, holding her just a little too close, Orm realized something.
She didn’t actually mind.
Not one bit.
***********
They went back home. Exhausted after yet another party.
Orm barely had time to take off her shoes before Lingling pinned her against the wall.
“What the—”
Before she could finish, Lingling’s lips crashed onto hers.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle.
It was possessive.
Orm barely had time to react, her mind short-circuiting as Lingling pressed against her, hands gripping her waist like she owned her.
When Lingling finally pulled away, Orm gasped. “What the hell was that?”
Lingling’s eyes were dark with frustration. “I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”
Orm’s brain stalled.
“…What?”
Lingling exhaled sharply, as if even saying it pissed her off. “Bam.”
Orm blinked. “This is about Bam?”
Lingling’s jaw clenched. “She’s trying to take what’s mine.”
Orm let out a stunned laugh. “Oh my god, you are jealous.”
Lingling glared. “Shut up.”
“Ohhh no, this is amazing,” Orm grinned. “Mafia Boss Lingling is jealous.”
Lingling groaned, but before she could storm off, Orm grabbed her by the collar and yanked her back.
“Say it properly.”
Lingling scowled. “Say what?”
Orm smirked. “That you don’t want anyone else getting too close to me.”
Lingling narrowed her eyes. She looked so frustrated, like admitting it was physically painful.
Finally, she sighed. “…I don’t want anyone else getting too close to you.”
Orm hummed. “And?”
Lingling let out a slow breath before gripping Orm’s chin, forcing her to look into her eyes.
“You’re mine.”
Orm’s stomach did an actual flip.
She should have been annoyed. She should have rolled her eyes.
Instead, she leaned in, voice barely above a whisper.
“…Okay.”
Lingling’s eyes widened, just a little, before a slow smirk curled on her lips.
“Good.”
Then she kissed her again.
And this time, Orm kissed her back.
The moment Orm kissed her back, something in Lingling snapped.
She had spent weeks fighting this—pretending that her growing feelings were just a side effect of their ridiculous situation.
But Orm wasn’t just a fake wife anymore.
She was hers.
And she was done pretending otherwise.
Lingling deepened the kiss, pressing Orm firmly against the wall. Her hands traced the curve of Orm’s waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
Orm let out a sharp breath against her lips, fingers curling into Lingling’s robe, as if daring her to take this further.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Lingling murmured, her lips ghosting along Orm’s jawline.
Orm shivered but smirked. “Then maybe you should show me.”
That was all the invitation Lingling needed.
She lifted Orm effortlessly, causing a surprised laugh to slip from her lips before it was swallowed by another kiss—this one hungrier, filled with heat and possession.
By the time they stumbled into the bedroom, Lingling had already made up her mind.
This wasn’t just about jealousy.
This wasn’t just about proving a point.
This was about them.
And for the first time, she wanted all of it.
Orm looked up at her, eyes half-lidded but challenging, always unafraid to push Lingling’s buttons. “You really can’t stand someone else touching me, huh?”
Lingling smirked, running her fingers down Orm’s arm, feeling the way she trembled under her touch.
“Not when you belong to me.”
Orm’s breath hitched, her teasing expression faltering for just a second.
Lingling leaned down, lips brushing against Orm’s ear.
“Let me remind you exactly who you belong to.”
That night, she did—again and again, until there was no room left for doubt.
***********
Orm never thought she’d get used to being married to a mafia boss.
Yet somehow, waking up tangled in Lingling’s expensive sheets, feeling her warm breath against her neck, and realizing oh god, I actually love my fake wife had become normal.
Well. As normal as it could get when assassins still occasionally tried to kill them.
Orm groaned, stretching lazily. “We should get divorced.”
Lingling, still half-asleep, didn’t even open her eyes. “Try it and I’ll make you disappear.”
Orm snorted. “Romantic.”
Lingling finally peeked one eye open, smirking. “You married me for money. Stay for the threats.”
Orm rolled over, resting her chin on Lingling’s chest. “Hmm. I don’t know. The money is nice, but your psychotic possessiveness? That’s what really does it for me.”
Lingling hummed, running a lazy hand down Orm’s back. “Then don’t leave.”
The words were soft, almost hesitant.
Orm stilled.
It was one of the rare moments when Lingling wasn’t hiding behind arrogance or threats.
She could pretend it was a joke. Could brush it off like she always did.
But instead, she smirked.
“Make me.”
***********
“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” Orm grumbled, shifting in her very real wedding dress.
“You could run,” Lingling said, adjusting her cufflinks, looking irritatingly calm. “You’ve tried before. It was adorable.”
Orm glared. “You kidnapped me before I made it past the driveway.”
Lingling smiled. “Exactly.”
Orm sighed dramatically. “I should have let Bam seduce me.”
Lingling’s jaw ticked. “You think you’re funny, huh?”
Orm grinned. “Hilarious, actually.”
Before Lingling could come up with a proper threat, the doors opened, and the ceremony began.
Orm should have been nervous. Should have questioned again how they got here.
But when Lingling looked at her—eyes full of something softer, something real—she knew there was no one else she’d rather be fake-married-turned-real-married to.
As the officiant spoke, Lingling squeezed her hand.
“Still think I’m crazy?” she murmured.
Orm smirked. “Absolutely.”
Lingling chuckled, leaning in. “Good. You’re stuck with me now.”
Orm kissed her before the officiant even said I now pronounce you wives.
For once, she didn’t mind being trapped at all with their real wedding. Sealed with a kiss. And stuck to each other forever.