The Billionaire's Accidental Bride.

Eliza Monroe balanced the white cake box in her arms, doing her best not to let it fall. Her arms ached a little, and the smell of vanilla buttercream filled the elevator. She shifted her weight and looked up at the numbers blinking above the door. The elevator was climbing fast-floor 42, 43, 44...

She took a deep breath. This was her last delivery for the day, and it was an important one. A wedding cake tasting for a private client in the penthouse suite of Reed Tower. The address was clearly written on the order slip: Reed Tower, Penthouse, Grayson Reed. She didn't know who that was just another rich client, probably. Eliza was tired and still had to get back to the bakery before closing.

Her sneakers squeaked slightly as she stepped off the elevator and into a silent hallway. Everything here looked expensive polished floors, gold trim, even the air smelled like money and cologne. She looked around. There were only two doors in the hallway one on the left, one on the right. No apartment numbers, no signs. Just tall, sleek doors and silence.

She looked down at the slip again. Just Penthouse. No direction.

"Well," she muttered to herself, "when in doubt, go right."

She knocked on the right door. No answer.

After a moment, she pressed her ear to the wood. Silence.

She turned the handle gently. To her surprise, it opened easily.

"Hello?" she called softly, stepping in. "Cake delivery for Miss Jameson?"

The apartment or was it a condo? was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered one wall, letting the sun spill in and bounce off marble counters and glass shelves. The living room was spotless. Everything was black, white, or gray, and not a single cushion looked out of place.

Eliza stepped further in, still holding the cake. Maybe they were just in the next room?

"Hello?" she said again, a little louder.

And then someone appeared.

He walked out from around the corner, tall and good-looking, with tousled dark hair and a clean white shirt rolled up to the elbows. No socks. No tie. His sleeves were lined just enough to make him look relaxed, but his expression was anything but.

He froze when he saw her.

"You're not who I expected," he said with a frown.

Eliza blinked. "I'm here for a cake delivery... for a wedding rehearsal?"

The man leaned his head slightly. "I didn't order a cake."

She looked down at the slip again. "This is the penthouse at Reed Tower, right?"

"Yes," he said slowly, still watching her like she might explode.

"And are you... Grayson Reed?"

"I am."

Eliza's brows lifted. "Then this is the right place."

He took a step closer. "Miss, I assure you, I didn't order anything. Especially not a cake."

Before either of them could say another word, the front door burst open again, and a woman with a camera stepped inside.

"Mr. Reed!" she called out. "Just one quick photo"

Eliza spun around in surprise just as the camera flash went off.

Click.

The woman grinned. "Beautiful. This'll go great with the headline." Then, she was gone, as fast as she came.

"What was that?" Eliza said, blinking hard from the flash.

Grayson swore under his breath. "You have got to be kidding me."

She stared at him. "That wasn't for the wedding tasting?"

"There is no wedding tasting," he said firmly. "That woman was a gossip reporter."

Eliza's heart dropped. "Oh no."

Grayson grabbed his phone off the counter and started tapping. "I guarantee we're already online."

He showed her the screen a moment later. A website headline had just been updated:

"Grayson Reed's Secret Fiancée? Mystery Woman Appears in Penthouse!"

And under it, the photo: Eliza, holding the cake, standing next to him with a stunned look on her face.

Eliza's cheeks burned. "I'm not your fiancée! I was delivering a cake!"

"I know that," Grayson muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Unfortunately, the press doesn't."

Eliza placed the box down on the kitchen island, trying to calm her racing heart. "This is not happening. I own a bakery, my aunt and I run it together. We don't need this kind of attention. This could ruin everything"

Grayson walked around to the other side of the counter. "Look, this wasn't your fault. You were given bad directions."

She gave him a sharp look. "You had your door unlocked!"

"I live in the clouds," he said flatly. "Nobody gets up here unless they have permission."

"Well, I did," Eliza shot back. "And now my picture's on a gossip site."

He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't good for me either."

"Why? Are you secretly engaged to someone else?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"No. But my company's board is already on edge. They think I need to settle down. Show stability. This photo just made it look like I've been hiding something."

Eliza stared at him. "Why do rich people always make things more complicated than they are?"

Grayson looked mildly amused. "Why do bakery girls always walk into the wrong door?"

Eliza turned to leave, but then hesitated. "Wait. Did you say the wedding people were across the hall?"

"Yes."

"So I walked into the wrong penthouse," she whispered to herself. "Of course I did."

She turned again, heading toward the door. "This never happened," she said firmly.

"Too late," Grayson said behind her.

Before she left, she turned back and looked at him one last time. "You owe me for the cake. That buttercream was expensive."

He reached into a drawer. "How much?"

Eliza waved her hand. "Just... forget it. And keep your door locked next time."

She stepped out, closing the door behind her as gently as possible. Her heart still banging in her chest as she turned toward the correct door across the hall.

As she walked in to finally deliver the cake to the right couple, she glanced back once at Grayson's door.

What a mess.

She didn't know yet that this mess was only the beginning.