Stone Kingsley has never been the epitome of calm when it comes to standing in a crowded room. Sure, give him a courtroom, a judge, a jury, and one of his clients and he fairs fine. But now? With all of him and my father's friends together in one room? He's as nervous as hell.

I give his a hand an encouraging squeeze and almost immediately his tensed shoulders relax. He turns and crinkles his eyes at me. Now, to any other person, that gesture would seem as if we were just a young, married couple in love, sharing a secret that no one else in the room knows about.

Oh, how they are sorely mistaken.

"You are the most beautiful couple I have ever laid eyes on," one woman stated with a smile, gaining only a head nod from us in return.

Another man, almost immediately behind the woman says gruffly, "A power couple if I ever saw one."

I suppose he was right to some extent. From the day we were born, Stone and I had always been told that we would someday be together. At first, the notion seemed ghastly and very unlikely. However, as the years went on, Stone became reckless and very playboy-like. His father became worried about his son and feared that he might bring home the "wrong kind of girl."

Thus, I was dragged into this family mess. Unlike Stone, I had no notion to become a lawyer like my father whatsoever and went to school for business instead of law. When I returned, business degree in hand, I was ever so kindly informed that Stone and I were to be married so as to prevent him from a life as a father to illegitimate children and keep the family name from being tarnished.

We play our parts very well as the loving husband and wife. Tonight, as I lay in our bed, staring at the vaulted ceiling, I'll know where he is. I'm sure it has something to do with the pretty secretary standing a few feet from us, silently challenging me, daring me to steal my own husband away from her.

I shake my head sadly and take a sip of the champagne I had snagged: we both know whom he would pick. At three in the morning, he would stumble into bed, thinking I'm a sleep, smelling of wine and cheap perfume. The next morning we would go on as if I was ignorant to his escapades, though he knew I wasn't.

Yes, we played our parts very well as an absorbed-in-each-other husband and wife.

Little does he know, I stopped pretending a long time ago.

A/N: so this is my new idea, and remember it's only a prologue, so the story will progress onwards. I've never really done one like this before, so it will be new to me. Criticism is always appreciated!