Xavier sat at his desk the next morning, attempting to focus on the reports spread in front of him. Normally, reviewing figures and projections helped him find clarity, but today, his mind kept drifting back to Elizabeth. The look in her eyes last night, the flash of defiance tempered by vulnerability—it lingered, unsettling him more than he wanted to admit.
When he'd proposed this arrangement, he'd been confident it would be straightforward. Elizabeth was intelligent, strong-willed, and capable of handling herself in his world, or so he had believed. And yet, he couldn't shake the sense that he'd underestimated her. She was no mere participant in his plan. Elizabeth had a presence all her own, a determination that demanded respect.
He sighed, setting down his pen. He was supposed to be managing this alliance, not getting distracted by his so-called wife.
Just as he was about to refocus, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," he called, expecting his assistant. But when the door swung open, Elizabeth stepped inside, dressed in a deep blue blouse and tailored trousers, looking polished and poised. She closed the door behind her, her expression serious.
"Xavier," she greeted, her tone formal. "I thought we should discuss our… arrangement a bit more. Set some boundaries, if you will."
He motioned to a chair across from him, curiosity piqued. "Of course. Have a seat."
She sat, placing her hands neatly on her lap. "Last night reminded me that there are certain things we need to clarify if we're going to make this work. I'm here because we agreed to this arrangement for mutual benefit. But I think it's important that we keep things strictly professional. There's no need for us to complicate things by involving emotions."
Xavier raised an eyebrow. "You're concerned I might develop feelings?" he asked, unable to keep the smirk out of his voice.
She rolled her eyes. "I think we're both mature enough to avoid that, don't you?"
He chuckled, genuinely amused by her bluntness. "You don't hold back, do you?"
"I've learned that beating around the bush doesn't get you anywhere," she replied, her tone unwavering. "And if we're going to be convincing, we should establish some ground rules."
"Such as?" he asked, leaning forward, intrigued.
"First," she began, counting on her fingers, "we keep any displays of affection limited to when we're in public or around family. There's no reason to act like we're in love when no one is watching."
He nodded, taking her seriously. "Reasonable enough. And?"
"Second, we maintain separate spaces. I'll stay in my suite, and you'll stay in yours."
Xavier found himself oddly relieved at this stipulation, though he wasn't entirely sure why. "Agreed. Anything else?"
She paused, taking a steadying breath. "I also want assurance that, no matter what, my gallery won't be compromised by this arrangement. It's the one part of my life I want to keep untouched by all this."
He leaned back, his gaze sharpening. "I gave you my word, Elizabeth. The gallery is yours to run as you see fit, and I won't interfere. I have no interest in controlling your work."
She seemed to relax a little, but her eyes held a guarded look, as if she was still assessing whether she could trust him. "Good."
Xavier leaned forward, holding her gaze. "So let me get this straight. You're here to play the part of my wife, but only on a superficial level. You want clear boundaries and no emotional involvement. Is that correct?"
"Precisely." Her gaze didn't waver, and he admired her resolve.
"Fine," he replied. "We'll keep things strictly professional, just as you asked. But, Elizabeth"—his voice dropped, growing slightly more intense—"remember that this arrangement is about protecting both our interests. If you don't play the role convincingly, if people see cracks in our story, it won't just affect me. You and your gallery will be under scrutiny too."
She straightened, her expression hardening. "I understand that. I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't willing to follow through."
"Good," he replied, satisfied. "Then I think we're clear."
They sat in silence for a moment, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Elizabeth's gaze drifted to the window behind him, taking in the view of the sprawling estate grounds. For a fleeting moment, she looked almost wistful, as if she were somewhere far away.
"Did you ever imagine yourself living like this?" Xavier asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
She turned back to him, surprised by the question. "Not really," she admitted. "I always envisioned a quiet life, something simple. The gallery… that's my world. It's where I feel grounded. All of this"—she gestured to the grand office and the estate beyond—"feels… surreal."
He found her honesty refreshing. Most people he met would give anything to live this life, to be part of his world, but Elizabeth seemed almost indifferent to it. In her own way, she was reminding him of the simplicity he'd lost over the years.
"Trust me," he said, a touch of irony in his voice. "This life isn't always as glamorous as it seems."
She regarded him thoughtfully, as if she hadn't expected that response. "Then why keep it?"
"Responsibility. Legacy," he replied, almost automatically. But as he said the words, he felt the hollowness of them. There was more to it, of course, but that was a part of himself he wasn't ready to reveal. Not to her, and maybe not to anyone.
She gave a small nod, as if she understood, though he doubted she fully did. "Well, I appreciate your honesty. It's good to know where we both stand."
He felt a strange pang of regret as she rose to leave. "Elizabeth," he said, stopping her at the door.
She turned, her eyes questioning.
"Just so we're clear," he said, his voice softer. "This isn't just a job for either of us. It's a partnership, even if it's temporary. If we're going to succeed, we need to trust each other."
She hesitated, then gave a single nod. "Understood."
With that, she walked out, leaving him alone with his thoughts. For a long time, he stared at the closed door, feeling a nagging sense that something significant had just shifted between them. Elizabeth was right—they'd agreed to keep things professional, to avoid complications. But a small, unspoken part of him couldn't help wondering how long they could both keep those boundaries intact.
Later that evening, Elizabeth wandered through the estate gardens, seeking a moment of peace. She needed space, some distance from the suffocating expectations she felt closing in around her. It had been a long day of negotiations, and her conversation with Xavier had left her feeling raw in a way she hadn't anticipated.
The moon cast a soft glow over the gardens, illuminating the roses and ivy-covered arches. She took a deep breath, letting the cool night air calm her frayed nerves. This world was overwhelming, yes, but there were parts of it that held a strange beauty, like this garden, like the view of the estate under the night sky.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice Xavier until he was only a few feet away. He'd been walking through the gardens as well, his expression unreadable as he approached her.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked quietly, his voice almost gentle.
She shook her head. "Just needed some air."
They stood in silence for a moment, both of them gazing at the sky. The weight of their conversation from earlier still hung between them, but out here, under the stars, it felt easier to put their guards down.
"Elizabeth," he said softly, breaking the quiet. "I know we agreed to keep things professional, but… I appreciate what you're doing. I know this isn't easy for you."
She looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. She'd never expected him to acknowledge her struggle. But here he was, standing with her under the stars, his eyes softened by something she couldn't quite define.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll try to remember that."
For a brief moment, they were just two people standing in a garden, free from the constraints of their arrangement, from the expectations of the world around them. It was a fleeting connection, a glimpse of something real amid all the artifice.
Then, as if on cue, they both took a step back, the moment broken. The walls went back up, and the distance between them returned.
"Goodnight, Elizabeth," he said, his voice cool once again.
"Goodnight, Xavier," she replied, watching him walk away, his figure fading into the shadows.
As she made her way back to her suite, she couldn't shake the feeling that, despite her best intentions, things were already beginning to blur. The lines she'd tried so hard to draw between them were starting to feel less like barriers and more like boundaries she wasn't sure she wanted to keep.