The penthouse was exactly what Sophia expected: expensive, minimalist, and cold. All glass and steel and modern art that probably cost more than her car. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Central Park. The furniture looked like it had never been sat on.
Ethan was waiting for her in the living room, casual in jeans and a black sweater. It was weird seeing him outside of business meetings and chance encounters at restaurants. Without the corporate armor, he looked younger. Still annoying, but younger.
"Your room is on the east wing," he said, pointing down a hallway. "Bathroom's attached. There's a guest kitchen if you want your own space to cook. The main kitchen is downstairs—we share that."
"This place is huge," Sophia said, dragging her suitcase inside.
"Fourteen thousand square feet." He said it like it was nothing. "My office is on the west wing. I usually work from home Thursdays and Fridays, so you'll have the space mostly to yourself."
"How very considerate of you."
"I'm trying, Chen. Be nice."
She wasn't nice. She was ice-cold professional for the next two days as they navigated the weird space of preparing for a wedding neither of them wanted.
The rehearsal dinner was Thursday night. Sophia's parents looked shocked when she told them about the arrangement. Her father looked angry. Her mother looked resigned, like she was used to rich people doing rich people things.
Ethan's family was exactly as Sophia expected: polished, powerful, slightly predatory. His mother looked her up and down like she was evaluating a piece of jewelry. His father barely acknowledged her existence.
After dinner, Ethan found her on the penthouse balcony, staring out at the city.
"Your parents hate me," he said, handing her a drink.
"My father does. My mother just thinks I'm an idiot."
"Are you?"
"An idiot? Possibly. Getting trapped in a contract marriage definitely qualifies."
Ethan laughed. It was a real laugh, not the polite corporate one. "For what it's worth, I'm not thrilled about this either. But we're stuck, so we might as well make the best of it."
"Make the best of it." Sophia repeated. "That's your grand plan?"
"Do you have a better one?"
She didn't.
The wedding was Saturday afternoon, small and elegant at a boutique hotel. Sophia wore a white dress that cost more than her first car. Ethan wore a custom tux. They said vows that felt like lies but sounded beautiful.
When the officiant said, "You may kiss the bride," Ethan hesitated for just a second. Long enough for Sophia to see the uncertainty in his eyes. Then he leaned down and kissed her softly, carefully, like she might break.
It lasted exactly three seconds. It felt like three hours.
The photographer captured it. Within an hour, it was all over social media. #UnexpectedLove and #EnemiestoLovers were trending by evening.
"The narrative is perfect," Ethan's PR person said, showing them the headlines. "Rivals forced together, discovering they're each other's perfect match. Audiences are eating it up."
Sophia felt sick.
That night, alone in her new bedroom in Ethan's penthouse—their penthouse, she corrected herself—she couldn't sleep. She kept thinking about that kiss. The way his hand had felt on her face. The way she'd wanted it to last longer, which was absolutely wrong and a sign that she was losing her mind.
At 3 AM, she gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen for water. Ethan was there, barefoot, in pajama pants and a t-shirt, making a sandwich.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
"Can you?"
"Not really." He finished making his sandwich and sat at the kitchen counter. "This is weird, right?"
"Incredibly weird."
"Want some?" He held up his sandwich.
Against all her instincts, Sophia said yes. She sat on the stool next to him and they ate sandwiches at 3 AM like they were normal people and not trapped in a nightmare marriage.
"Tell me something," Ethan said. "Why did you go into business? The real reason, not the interview answer."
Sophia was quiet for a moment. "My dad spent my whole childhood trying to impress people who didn't care about him. Investors, partners, other successful people. He was talented, but he played by their rules. I watched him get smaller and smaller. So when I got to university, I decided I was going to play by my own rules. I was going to win, but on my terms."
"And you did," Ethan said. "You're probably the most successful self-made person I've ever met."
"So are you. Except you started with money."
"Money doesn't mean anything if you don't know how to use it. My grandfather built an empire. My father maintained it. Everyone expected me to just... coast." He shrugged. "I didn't want to be a disappointment. Turns out that makes you competitive."
Sophia looked at him. In the kitchen light, without the CEO armor, he looked almost vulnerable.
"Your father loves you," she said quietly. "He just has a weird way of showing it."
"How would you know that?"
"I've seen him watch you at business events. He's proud of you. He just won't say it."
Ethan was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "This marriage thing... I meant what I said about not being thrilled. But maybe it doesn't have to be completely awful."
"What are you suggesting?"
"I don't know yet. But we're stuck with each other for at least a year. We could make it terrible, or we could..." He trailed off, looking at her. "We could try."
Sophia's heart was doing something stupid in her chest.
"Try what, exactly?" she asked.
**Was he talking about trying to make the marriage work?**