The elevator ride to the penthouse of The Ascent was sixty seconds of the loudest silence Aria had ever experienced.
The digital floor indicator ticked upward. 48... 49... 50. "You're breathing too loudly," Julian said, eyes fixed on the brushed-steel doors. "It's distracting."
"I'm breathing at a standard human volume, Julian. Perhaps your ego is just taking up too much oxygen in the elevator," Aria snapped back, clutching her designer tote.
Ding.
The doors slid open to a sprawling, minimalist masterpiece. It was all white marble, floor-to-ceiling glass, and furniture that looked expensive but deeply uncomfortable.
"Home sweet prison," Julian muttered, stepping out.
Aria followed, her heels clicking against the stone. "First things first. We need a Treaty of Non-Aggression. I don't want your gym socks touching my silk rugs, and I don't want your 'bro-tein' shakes in the fridge near my organic greens."
"Deal," Julian said, already heading toward the back of the suite. "And I don't want your five-step skincare routine colonizing the bathroom sink. I need space for my—"
He stopped abruptly.
Aria bumped into his back. "Why did you stop? Did you hit an invisible wall of your own self-importance?"
"Aria," he said, his voice strangely strained. "Look."
She peeked around his shoulder. They were standing in the doorway of the primary suite. It was majestic. It had a fireplace. It had a view of the entire campus.
It had exactly one bed.
It was a custom-built, California King-sized monstrosity draped in charcoal linens.
"No," Aria whispered.
"My father", Julian groaned, rubbing his temples. "He's a 'symbolism' guy. He probably thinks a second bed is a 'symbol of a divided house' or some archaic billionaire nonsense."
Aria marched to the bed and poked it with a finger as if it might bite her. "I am a Sterling. I do not 'cuddle'. I don't even like it when people stand too close to me in line at Starbucks."
"And I'm a Vane," Julian retorted, throwing his keys onto a side table. "I move around in my sleep. I've been told I kick violently. You'll be lucky if you don't wake up with a concussion."
"Fine. We'll split it," Aria said, her brain immediately shifting into 'problem-solving' mode. She grabbed a decorative velvet bolster pillow and slammed it down exactly in the centre of the mattress. "This is the 38th Parallel. Cross it, and it's an act of war."
Julian looked at the pillow, then at her. A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face. "You're really going to 'Line in the Sand' me, Aria? We're nineteen, not five."
"Safety first, Vane."
"Fine," he said, kicking off his shoes. "But I get the side with the bedside remote for the blinds. I like to wake up to the sun hitting me directly in the eyes so I can be reminded of my own brilliance."
"You are actually insufferable," Aria groaned, walking toward the walk-in closet.
"And you have a smudge of chocolate on your cheek from that truffle at dinner," he called out. "It's been there for an hour. I didn't tell you because I wanted to see how long you'd look imperfect."
Aria froze, her hand on the closet handle. She darted to a mirror. There was nothing there.
"Julian!"
"Made you look," he shouted from the bedroom, his laughter sounding far too genuine for a man who had just been forced into a marriage. "Score: Vane - 1, Sterling - 0."
Aria leaned against the mirror, a frustrated huff escaping her lips. This was going to be a very, very long semester.