Emma
The weight of Vivienne's words hangs heavy over the rest of the evening. Be careful, Emma. You don't have any idea of what you've gotten yourself into.
She's correct—I don't.
Ethan introduces me to more business associates, but I barely hear their names. The room feels suffocating, the heat of the chandeliers and the whispers of curious onlookers pressing in on me. Ethan's hand remains firm on the small of my back, a silent
command to play my part.
By the time we return to the penthouse, I'm exhausted, my nerves frayed. Ethan opens the door, and I step inside, immediately kicking off my heels.
"You could at least pretend to be grateful," he says, closing the door behind him.
I whirl around to face him. "Grateful? For what? For being paraded around like some kind of trophy?"
His expression hardens, the cool detachment in his eyes sending a shiver down my spine. "This arrangement benefits both of us, Emma. I suggest you start acting like it."
I laugh bitterly, the sound reverberating in the distinct quietness of the penthouse. "Oh, Please accept my apologies. I didn't understand being humiliated in front of your ex-fiancée was an advantage."
He steps closer, his towering presence forcing me to tilt my head to meet his gaze. "Vivienne is irrelevant."
"She didn't seem irrelevant tonight," I counter, crossing my arms. "She seemed very much like someone who knows exactly how to push your buttons."
His jaw tightens, a flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes. "Stay out of it, Emma."
"Stay out of what?" I challenge, my voice rising. "This is my life now, Ethan. Whatever this…thing is between you and Vivienne, it's my business too."
He breathes out sharply, hauling a hand through his hair. "You don't have a clue of what you're talking about."
"Then enlighten me," I snap.
For a moment, I think he might. But then his walls go up again, his expression turning cold. "You signed the contract, Emma. That's all you need to be aware of."
The discussion is over, and he leaves, leaving me remaining in the middle of the living room, fuming with dissatisfaction .
The following morning, I wake to the sound of quieted voices outside the bedroom entryway. I get up, my bare feet padding quietly across the hardwood floor.
"…we need to deal with this discreetly," Ethan's voice says, low and firm.
"And if she finds out?" Olivia's voice responds.
"She won't," he says. "I'll ensure it."
I press my ear to the door, my heart beating. What are they referring to?
The sound of strides makes me jerk back, and I scramble into bed just as the entryway opens. Ethan steps inside, his intent look sweeping over me with rehearsed indifference.
"You're awake," he notices.
"Good morning to you as well," I murmur, sitting up. "What's on today's agenda? Another gala? A business meeting? Or should I just wait for Vivienne to pop out of the shadows again?"
His lips twitch, but he doesn't smile. "You're surprisingly chipper for someone who spent the entire night glaring at me."
"Call it my coping mechanism," I reply, throwing the covers off.
He watches me briefly, his look incomprehensible. "We're meeting with my legal advisor today to finalize the terms of the agreement."
"I thought the terms were already finalized."
"This is about appearances," he says. "We need to iron out the details of our public image—what to say, what not to say. Things like that."
I moan, running a hand through my hair. "Fine. How about we get it over with?"
Ethan's legal counselor is precisely exactly what I expected—cleaned, precise, and completely without any trace of warmth. He sits across from us in a sleek gathering room, his tablet laying on the table as he goes over the better points of the agreement.
"You'll be required to go to public occasions together at least twice a month," he says, his tone clinical. "Charity galas, fundraisers, corporate functions—anything that reinforces the image of a united front."
"Fine," I say, despite the fact that the prospect of investing more energy in Ethan's world makes my stomach churn.
"You'll also need to establish a credible backstory," the legal counselor proceeds. "How you met, how the relationship progressed. It has to be believable."
I glance at Ethan, who looks completely unbothered. "Do you have a script for that too?" I ask, my tone laced with sarcasm.
His lips curve into a faint smile. "I'm sure we can improvise."
The rest of the meeting is a haze of lawful language and painstakingly built When we leave, I feel like a doll, my strings pulled by forces beyond my control.
Ethan
Emma is infuriating.
She's stubborn, harshly toned, and very keen to her benefit . But as much as she grinds on my nerves, I can't reject that I appreciate her fire. She's not like the women I've dealt with before—women who grinned and nodded, content to let me take the lead.
Emma challenges me.
And for reasons I can't quite explain, I find myself drawn to her.
"Ethan," Olivia's voice pulls me from my thoughts. She stands in the doorway, her arms crossed. "We need to talk."
"About?"
"Emma."
I sigh, leaning back in my chair. "What about her?"
"She's not what you expected, is she?"
I don't answer.
"You're playing a dangerous game," she continues. "She's not a pawn, Ethan. And if you keep treating her like one, this is going to blow up in your face."
I glare at her. "Thank you for the unsolicited advice, Olivia. Now, I have work to do,if you'll excuse me."
She shakes her head, a weak grin tugging at her lips. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."
Emma
That evening, Ethan informs me that we'll be going to another occasion—a dinner with one of his greatest investors. I try to protest, but he shuts me down with a solitary look.
"You agreed to this," he says. "If you want your father's company to survive, you'll play your part."
So I do.
The dinner is a lavish affair, held in a private dining room at one of Manhattan's most exclusive restaurants. The investor, a charming older man named Charles, appears to really kind, but the tension between Ethan and me doesn't go away.
"Both of you make an incredible pair," Charles says, raising his glass. "I'll admit, I was amazed when I heard the news. Ethan's not exactly the marrying type."
I force a smile, the lie rolling off my tongue. "He surprised me too."
Ethan chuckles, his hand resting on mine. The gesture is calculated, practiced, but the warmth of his touch sends an unexpected jolt through me.
My head is spinning,by the time we leave. The lies, the charade—it's all starting to obscure together.
As we step into the car, Ethan leans closer, his voice low and dangerous.
"Keep up the act, Emma. People are watching. And if you slip, it's not just your father who'll pay the price."
His words send a chill down my spine, and for the first time, I understand exactly the way in which high the stakes truly are.