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They're America's favorite couple, the beautiful Pendragons. He inherited the company his father built from the ground up, she worked three jobs in Hollywood to put herself through acting school. They met at some benefit for the rich and influential, for people to see and be seen, to forge new business contacts, to talk about what they're wearing and silently judge everyone there as more or less successful than themselves.
Morgana knew she was lucky to be there, that she could meet someone who could make her entire career with just a few words, but those thoughts had flown out of her head when she saw Arthur for the first time. She excused herself with a polite smile and crossed the room in confident strides until she was standing right in front of him (because no one gets anywhere if life by being timid, she knows that much). And he's golden and charming and perfect, rich and connected, influential and so fucking smart, and Morgana ignores all but that last one, because he's the most genuine person in the room. And because he makes her laugh, her real, honest laugh, not the fake, polite one she pulls out for events like these.
They exchange numbers, both of them promising to call, but they don't. Not for a long time, anyway. She finally manages to land a starring role, and Pendragon Industries is taking over Mercer Corp., and they're both stupidly busy for the next year or so. He sees her picture in the paper when she's doing press for the movie (Lady of the Lake, it's called, and the buzz says it's the favorite for at least four Oscars. He's irrationally proud of her, for all that he met her only once), and makes a mental note to call her when her press tour is over.
He doesn't. But let's be fair, neither does she. They finally meet again, at the Oscars, which neither of them have a date for. She wins Best Actress, and smiles so wide it lights up the whole room, threatens to split her face in two. He finds her at an after party and they end up just drinking and talking for hours. (They're making up for lost time, even if neither of them says it out loud.)
Six months later, they're officially a couple, Hollywood's It Girl and the fifth richest man in the world. In all the pictures, they're smiling and holding hands, arms wrapped around each other's waists, hands in back pockets. The poses change, but the smiles are the same. The tabloids say it's only a matter of time before they'll tie the knot.
And they're right. The wedding's straight out of a fairy tale, the kind of extravagance only extreme wealth can buy. Morgana glows like the moon in her ivory gown, and Arthur looks like a 50's film star. They dance and drink champagne, cut the cake and hear toasts, and fly off to St. Tropez for their honeymoon. They come back after a month, glowing with health and happiness, and Morgana throws herself into her next role, while Arthur looks for even more ways to diversify his father's company. They're the American Dream, self-made and hard working, young and in love, beautiful and powerful and rich.
They are the power couple, there is nothing they can't do.