Behind me, the door to my new room clicked closed, locking me inside an environment more akin to a luxury hotel suite than a house. Everything was chilly, contemporary, and agonizingly perfect. Under the mellow glow of recessed illumination, sleek black furniture shone. Like no one was supposed to live here, the bedding was perfect, unbroken, and absolutely unspoilt.
Conscious of how out of place it seemed against the immaculate surroundings, I laid my one suitcase down with a hollow thud. I was only one of the props; this was a temporary stage. It was not my place.
After sorting through my few possessions, I warily explored the large penthouse communal rooms. Like a live painting, expansive windows framed the beautiful metropolitan skyline. The room was disturbingly calm, the type of stillness pushing into your chest that shouted you do not belong here.
After Noah left earlier, I was not sure where he had gone. His presence—or lack—left a disturbing quiet hovering in the air. Was he purposefully avoiding me? Alternatively, was this his way of life—distant and untouchable?
I turned to face the open-concept kitchen at the crisp clink of glasses. Stepping inside carefully, I saw Noah seated at the marble-topped bar drinking. His stance was slack yet controlled, every action deliberates and exact.
He talked without consulting any references. "You're researching."
His low, steady voice sliced across the quiet like a razor.
"I live here now; do not I?I crossed my arms and answered differently.
His lips curved in a weak, nearly invisible smile. "You do."
The room seemed excessively large and charged with unsaid words. He seemed to be the centre of gravity, thus I felt imprisoned in his orbit and detested how readily he commanded the space.
Strongly stepping further into the room, I said, "We need to set some boundaries." "Ground rules should exist if we are living together."
He wrinkled his brow, fascinated but not really impressed. Like such? ("")
I stood my ground. "Privacy. Respect between you. No surprises."
Noah nodded slowly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Fair enough. But let me make things clear appearances come first. Whatever occurs within these walls remains between us. Outside, we're the perfect couple."
His comments struck with scientific accuracy, telling me precisely what this was—a commercial agreement. No sentiments, no attachments, no actual connection.
"Understood," I answered grimly. "Anything else?"
"Yes." His eyes clouded. "Don't pry into my life. Don't ask questions you won't want answered."
The warning lingered in the air, heavy with unsaid meaning.
Later that evening, I found myself seated stiffly across from Noah at the large, frightening dining table. A personal chef had prepared a lavish supper, but the environment was anything from cozy.
Neither of us talked while we ate, the stillness growing tight like a wire ready to break. The clatter of kitchenware sounded overwhelming in the big, empty area.
I could no longer stand it. "This is how things are going to be? "I asked angrily."
He looked up, calm and collected. "What were your expectations?""
"Conversation, maybe—I'm not sure."«
Noah's look changed, laughter flaring in his eyes. Isla, we are not here to play house.
In my chest, anger sprang fiercely. I'm aware. Still, we should at least attempt living humanly.
Something nearly remorseful flickering over his features for a split second was unreadable. But it vanished as fast as it had first appeared.
His voice sounded low, almost cruel. "You'll find I'm not very good at that."
I went to my room after supper and firmly closed the door, but sleep eluded me. Every creak of the penthouse felt magnified in the darkness, as if the walls themselves were breathing waiting for something to shatter.
Driven by the lovely glow of city lights streaming through the large windows, I returned towards the common area after midnight. Not expecting to see him there, he was standing at the window, softly lit in silver by the skyline.
His eyes locked on the earth far below, he did not turn as I walked up. He glanced uncovered once, for once. There is no cold computation here. Not a single sharp edge. Just a guy perched on the brink of something incomprehensible.
"Can't get asleep? "I broke the calm by softly asking.
His shoulders stiffened, but he turned nowhere. neither can you.
Silence descended once again, delicate rather than antagonistic this time. I felt, for the first time, as if I was seeing the actual Noah—not the businessman, nor the deliberate manipulator—someone behind the armor.
He turned, his visage locked once again just as I thought he may say something genuine.
"Go back to bed, Isla." His voice was icy, far-off, yet his gaze lingered for just too long.
He vanished into the dark without further word, leaving me once again alone. But this time the emptiness seemed different. As if, for a little while we had both forgotten we were meant to be strangers living under one roof.