EVANGELINE
The penthouse didn't feel like a home.
It felt like being inside a crystal that someone had designed to be beautiful but completely empty. Floor to ceiling windows. Views of Manhattan stretching for miles. Glass and steel and the kind of space that echoed when you breathed too loud.
Evangeline followed Sebastian through the hallway, her suitcases trailing behind her like she was a ghost being escorted through someone else's life.
"Your room is down the east hall," Sebastian said. His voice was different now. Colder. Like that kiss at city hall had never happened. Like he'd already rebuilt the walls that had trembled when his lips touched hers. "Private bathroom. Walk in closet. I've had appropriate clothing delivered."
She wanted to ask him why he was doing this. Why he was speaking to her like she was an employee instead of his wife. Why his eyes had burned when he kissed her and now they were made of ice again.
Instead she just said, "Okay."
"My room is west wing. We don't disturb each other unless it's necessary for public appearances."
The rules. There were always rules with him. Everything contained. Everything measured.
"Staff comes Mondays and Thursdays. Housekeeper and chef. They'll handle meals and cleaning. You won't need to do anything except exist here."
Exist.
Like she was a decoration. Like she was part of the penthouse design that he'd already planned and arranged.
They reached her room and Sebastian pushed open the door.
It was beautiful. Too beautiful. The kind of room in a magazine that nobody actually lived in. A bed with white sheets. Enormous closet. Bathroom with marble floors. Windows that showed Manhattan like it was her personal kingdom.
Her suitcases sat stacked in the corner.
"Everything you might need should be in the closet already," Sebastian continued, his voice still businesslike. Still cold. "Brands and sizes were pulled from your apartment. If anything doesn't fit or you need alterations, let the staff know."
She turned to look at him.
He was standing in the doorway like he couldn't bring himself to come inside. Like being in her room would require him to acknowledge that she existed as something more than a problem to be managed.
"When do we need to appear together?" she asked quietly.
"The corporate gala is Saturday. That's our first public event as married. You'll need to be ready by seven."
Saturday. Two days away.
"What should I wear?"
"The staff has recommendations. They'll help you choose."
Everything was delegated. Everything was handled. She wasn't supposed to think or decide or exist as anything except the wife he'd agreed to have.
"Sebastian—"
"I need to get back to the office. There's work that needs handling." He was already turning away. Already leaving. "Welcome home, Mrs. Thornfield."
The door closed behind him.
Evangeline stood alone in the beautiful empty room and realized she'd married a man who could kiss like he meant everything and then treat her like she meant nothing at all.
She unpacked mechanically. Hanging dresses in the enormous closet. Putting folded clothes in drawers. Setting her toiletries on the marble bathroom counter. All the small things that were supposed to make a space feel like home.
Nothing helped.
The penthouse was beautiful but it was a prison made of glass and steel and the unbearable contradiction of a man who looked at her like she mattered when his guard was down and spoke to her like she was invisible when his control was back.
That night she lay in bed unable to sleep.
The sheets were expensive. The mattress was perfect. The room had everything except the one thing that mattered, which was the feeling that she belonged anywhere.
She stared at the ceiling and thought about the contract. One year of this. One year of living with a man who'd kissed her like she was the only thing he'd ever wanted and then immediately treated her like she was the only thing he didn't want to acknowledge.
How was she supposed to survive a year of that?
The penthouse was so quiet at night. All glass and steel and the kind of silence that made her hyperaware of every small sound.
Around 2 AM she heard footsteps.
They started from somewhere down the west hallway. Sebastian's hallway. She recognized his walk. The purposeful stride. The way he moved like he was always in control of everything around him.
The footsteps came closer.
They passed her door. Then stopped.
Right outside her room.
Evangeline's entire body went still.
She held her breath and waited.
The footsteps didn't move. He was standing right outside her door at 2 AM. Standing there in the dark while she lay in bed on the other side of the wall.
Was he going to knock?
Was he going to say something?
Was he going to acknowledge that the kiss meant something after all?
She wanted to get up. Wanted to open the door and demand to know what he was doing out there. Wanted to ask him why he kissed her like he meant it if he didn't actually feel anything.
But she didn't move.
She just lay there listening to him breathe on the other side of that door.
Then his footsteps moved again.
They retreated back down the hallway toward his room. Slow. Reluctant. Like every step was a choice he was fighting against.
And then he was gone.
Evangeline lay in the dark and understood something about her new husband that scared her more than anything else.
He wanted her.
He was fighting it with everything he had but he wanted her.
And that was going to make this one year impossibly harder than she'd thought.