Lila Harper's heels clicked against the marble floor of Ethan Caldwell's penthouse, the echo swallowed by the cavernous space. The emerald gown still clung to her, its silk heavy with the weight of the night. The charity gala had been a whirlwind of flashing cameras, probing eyes, and Victoria Langston's venomous smile. Lila's fingers twisted the diamond ring Ethan had sent, its chill grounding her as she stepped into the kitchen. She needed something normal—coffee, maybe, or just a moment to breathe—after playing "Mrs. Caldwell" for a crowd that judged her every move.
The penthouse was a stark contrast to her cramped apartment above the bakery. Glass walls framed the city's skyline, all sharp lines and cold elegance, like Ethan himself. She found a coffee maker, sleek and intimidating, and fumbled with the buttons until it hissed to life. The gala had gone better than she'd feared—she hadn't tripped, hadn't spilled champagne, and had even charmed that investor, Grayson, with her scone quip. But Victoria's words lingered like a splinter: *"Enjoy your moment, baker girl. It won't last."*
Lila's stomach twisted. Victoria wasn't just a jealous ex; she was a predator, her red gown and sharp smile masking a threat Lila didn't fully understand. Ethan had called her "complicated," but that was a polite way of saying dangerous. Lila wasn't naive—she'd signed the contract to save her family, not to play hero in Ethan's corporate war. But the way he'd looked at her, his arm steady around her waist, had stirred something she didn't want to name. Not attraction. Not trust. Something messier.
The kitchen door swung open, and Ethan appeared, his tie loosened, jacket slung over his shoulder. His dark hair was slightly mussed, and the sight of him—less polished, almost human—made her pulse skip. "You're still up," he said, his voice low, carrying that same intensity from the gala.
"Couldn't sleep," Lila said, pouring coffee into a mug. "Your world's a lot to take in."
He leaned against the counter, watching her with those storm-gray eyes. "You held your own tonight. Grayson's already singing your praises to the board."
She snorted, handing him a mug she hadn't meant to pour. "Guess I'm a better actress than I thought. But that Victoria woman—she's got it out for me."
Ethan's jaw tightened, his fingers brushing hers as he took the mug. The contact sent a spark up her arm, and she pulled back, cursing her traitorous nerves. "Victoria's got it out for everyone," he said, sipping the coffee. "Don't take it personally."
"Hard not to when she calls me 'baker girl' like it's an insult." Lila crossed her arms, the ring glinting under the kitchen's soft lights. "What's her deal, Ethan? You said no personal questions, but if I'm your shield, I need to know what I'm blocking."
He set the mug down, his expression unreadable. "She's my ex-fiancée. Her family's company, Langston Corp, wants to merge with mine. It's a takeover dressed up as a partnership. She's using my… reputation to sway the board against me."
Lila's brows shot up. "Ex-fiancée? You left that part out."
"It's irrelevant," he said, too quickly. "She betrayed me years ago. This is just business now."
The sharpness in his tone told her it was anything but. She wanted to push, to ask what Victoria had done to make him flinch like that, but the contract's rules held her back. Instead, she said, "Business or not, she's gunning for me. I need to know how to handle her."
Ethan's lips twitched, almost a smile. "You handled her fine tonight. That comeback about her date? Savage."
Lila's cheeks warmed, but she shrugged. "She made it easy. But seriously, Ethan—what's next? That board meeting you mentioned… it's tomorrow, right?"
He nodded, his expression darkening. "Victoria's pushing for a vote to replace me as CEO. Your performance tonight bought us time, but tomorrow's the real test. We need to sell the marriage, convince them I'm stable."
"Stable," she echoed, her voice dry. "You mean the guy who buys a wife to save his company?"
His eyes flicked to hers, a spark of amusement breaking through. "Exactly. You're catching on."
She laughed despite herself, the sound easing the tension in her chest. For a moment, they stood there, two people caught in a ridiculous game, sharing coffee in a kitchen that felt too big for either of them. Then Ethan's phone buzzed, shattering the moment. He glanced at the screen, his face hardening.
"What is it?" Lila asked, her instincts prickling.
"Nothing," he said, pocketing the phone. But his voice was too tight, his shoulders too rigid. She'd seen that look at the gala, right after the reporter's photo, when he'd gone quiet and distant.
"Don't do that," she said, stepping closer. "If we're in this together, you don't get to shut me out. What's on your phone?"
He hesitated, then pulled it out, showing her the screen. Another anonymous text: *"Ask her about the bakery's loan. She's not as innocent as she seems."*
Lila's blood ran cold. The bakery's loan—a desperate deal she'd made two years ago, one she'd buried deep to protect Clara and her dad. No one knew the details, not even her family. How had someone dug it up? And why send it to Ethan?
"What does this mean?" he asked, his voice low, not accusing but searching.
"Nothing," she said, too quickly, her heart racing. "It's just someone stirring trouble. Probably Victoria."
His eyes narrowed, studying her. "Lila, if there's something I need to know—"
"There isn't," she snapped, her voice sharper than she meant. She took a breath, softening. "Look, I signed your contract. I'm here, playing your wife. That's what matters, right?"
He didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "For now. But if there's anything that could hurt us, I need to know before the board does."
The weight of his words settled over her, heavy as the ring on her finger. She wanted to tell him—about the loan, the shady lender, the threats she'd dodged to keep the bakery afloat. But that would mean breaking her own walls, letting him see the mess she'd fought to hide. She wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
"Fine," she said, setting her mug down. "I'll keep that in mind. But you need to trust me, too."
"Trust," he said, the word heavy. "That's not something I give easily."
"Then we're even," she said, holding his gaze. The air between them thickened, charged with unspoken questions. She wanted to hate him for pulling her into this, for making her feel like a pawn. But the way he looked at her—half challenge, half something softer—made it hard to keep her walls up.
He stepped closer, his voice low. "You did good tonight, Lila. Better than I expected. But this is just the start. Tomorrow, the board will be watching. We can't afford mistakes."
She nodded, her throat tight. "I won't let you down. But don't expect me to be someone I'm not."
"I don't," he said, and for a moment, his guard dropped, revealing a flicker of warmth. "That's why I chose you."
Her heart stuttered, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. Before she could respond, he turned, heading for the door. "Get some rest," he called over his shoulder. "Tomorrow's a big day."
Lila stood alone in the kitchen, the coffee cooling in her mug. She twisted the ring, its weight a reminder of the deal she'd made. Moving to the penthouse had been part of the contract—public appearances required proximity, Ethan had said. But living here, in his sterile world, felt like stepping into a cage. She wandered to the living room, its floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city like a painting. Her reflection stared back, the gown and ring transforming her into someone she barely recognized. Mrs. Ethan Caldwell. The title felt like a lie, but the spark in her chest when he'd looked at her? That felt too real.
She sank onto the plush sofa, her mind replaying the gala. Ethan's arm around her, the way he'd bid on that necklace, his voice rough when he'd said it was for the role. She didn't want to care about him, didn't want to wonder what made his eyes darken or his jaw clench. But she did. And that scared her more than Victoria's threats.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. A text from Clara: *"You okay? You didn't come home."* Guilt stabbed her. She'd told Clara she was working late, avoiding the truth about the contract. *"I'm fine,"* she texted back. *"Just a late shift. Love you."* The lie tasted bitter, but the contract demanded discretion, even from her sister.
As she set the phone down, a soft clink drew her attention. A small box sat on the coffee table, black velvet with a silver clasp. Curiosity tugged at her, overriding her caution. She opened it, revealing the emerald necklace from the auction, its pendant glinting like a captured star. A note was tucked inside, Ethan's handwriting sharp and precise: *"For tomorrow. Wear it. – E.C."*
Her breath caught. He'd spent a fortune on it, called it a prop, but this—this felt personal. Why give it to her now, in the middle of the night? She traced the pendant, her fingers trembling. The anonymous text flashed in her mind, a warning about the bakery's loan. Someone knew her secret, and they were using it to rattle Ethan. To rattle her.
A shadow moved in the hallway, and Lila's heart leaped. She snapped the box shut, her eyes darting to the darkness. "Ethan?" she called, her voice unsteady.
No answer. But the faint creak of a floorboard sent a chill down her spine. She stood, clutching the box, her pulse racing. The penthouse was secure—Ethan had said so—but the anonymous text, Victoria's threats, and now this? Someone was watching, waiting. And as she stared into the shadows, a single question burned: what had she really signed up for?