Chapter One
The elevator doors slide open on the penthouse floor, then a pressing silence. The kind of silence that waits for you to confess.
I step out anyway.
My heels click too loudly on the marble floor as I pull my single suitcase behind me. One suitcase. That was one of Damien Dravenhart's rules, printed neatly in the contract I signed with shaking hands. Essentials only. There are no traces of the life I'm leaving behind.
The space is enormous and spotless, more gallery than home, and black furniture. Sharp lines. No photographs. No warmth. Nothing here shows anyone's thinking is going to last. It smells like him.
I hate that I recognize it.
I hate that my pulse is already racing.
The city unfolds below, Central Park, a dark patch in the lights. Years ago, I used to be in a tiny Brooklyn flat imagining a view like this. Back then, it was like a dream.
Now it feels like I'm in a cage.
I left my suitcase by the door and walked in. My reflection follows me in every mirrored surface, blonde hair pulled back tight, posture composed, expression unreadable. I look calm.
I am not.
Five years.
Five years since I last saw him. Five years since the night, everything was destroyed.
I don't let myself think about his face back then. About the way his voice broke when he asked me for help. About the words I said instead.
Eight words that are still stuck in my head.
His father collapsed on live TV, and they kept showing it over and over. The big company that seemed untouchable was ruined in one night. Businesses crashed. People were angry. Everyone saw Damien Dravenhart become really cold and hard.
And he decided I was part of the reason.
I didn't know the whole truth then. I only knew I was being asked to risk everything I'd built, and fear made the decision for me.
Now, fear is back to collect its payment.
My company is being seized in less than twenty-four hours. Accounts frozen. Creditors circling around. All because of my brother's reckless choices, choices I can't undo no matter how hard I try.
The only man with the power to stop it is Damien.
And he didn't offer mercy.
He offered a contract.
One year of marriage. One year of pretending. One year of living under his roof, flunting his name, faking smiles, while he reminds the world, and me, who is the boss.
At the end of it, my company survives.
If I survive him.
A sound behind me sends my heart jumping into my throat.
I turn.
He's leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed like he's been there the entire time. Watching. Waiting. He stares at me, sharp enough to steal my breath.
Damien Reyes Dravenhart.
He looks different. Harder. Like time took away anything gentle and left only edges. His black shirt is rolled at the sleeves, jaw tight, so tight I can see the muscle jump.
He doesn't say anything at first.
Just looks at me like he's measuring what's left.
"You could have announced yourself," I manage.
"I wanted to see your face when I realized where you are," he says. His voice is low, rough. "You look the same, Elena. Untouched. Like nothing ever costs you."
The words touched me harder than I expected.
"I'm here," I say quietly. "I signed your contract."
He pushes off the wall and walks toward me, The air feels colder with every step he takes.
"Yes," he says. "You did."
For a second, I think he's going to touch me. Instead, he reaches past me and picks up my suitcase.
"I'll show you to your room."
Your room.
Not ours.
The difference hurts.
I follow him down the hallway, past closed doors and endless windows. He stops at the last door and pushes it open.
The bedroom is massive and dark, and a king-sized bed dominates the center, charcoal sheets perfectly smoothed. One nightstand holds a lamp. The other is empty.
"This side is yours," he says, nodding to the bare table. "Closet's stocked. Bathroom's through there. You'll find everything you need for public appearances."
I step inside, needing space. "Thank you."
He doesn't leave.
"The wedding is in four days," he says. "Civil ceremony. Immediate press release. You'll smile. You'll look devoted. You'll convince the world this is exactly what you want."
I nod. I can do this. I have to.
He turns, then stops.
"One more thing."
He pulls a small black box from his pocket and opens it.
The diamond inside catches the light, cold and flawless.
Before I can speak, he takes my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. The fit is perfect. Of course it is.
"Wear it," he says. "Starting now."
Then he steps back.
"Goodnight, wife."
The door closes softly behind him.
I stand there, staring at the ring shining on my hand. Its weight is far heavier than it should be.
A moment later, his voice leaked through the door, low, almost too quiet to hear.
"I still hate you, Elena."
I collapsed.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, pressing my hand to my mouth to keep the sound inside.
Because the worst part?
I'm not sure he's the only one pretending.