Iris POV
The penthouse is bigger than any apartment Iris has ever lived in.
The bedroom James gives her has floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the entire city. The bed is so soft it feels like sleeping on clouds. The bathroom has a shower with jets that come from every direction. Everything in this space costs more money than she's seen in her entire life.
She's terrified to touch anything.
On the first morning, she wakes up in the guest room to find James already awake, already moving through the apartment like a man who has somewhere important to be. He's on his phone. He's checking his watch. He's existing in a way that makes her realize he's used to running an empire before breakfast.
But when he sees her, he stops.
"Good morning," he says, and he says it like her being awake is the most important thing that's happened to him all day.
She's not used to being important to anyone.
"Good morning," she says back, and her voice sounds small.
"I have something for you," he says. He's holding up shopping bags. Multiple shopping bags. From expensive stores she's only ever window shopped at.
"You didn't have to—" she starts, but he's already putting the bags on the couch.
"I know," he says. "I wanted to."
Inside the bags are clothes. Real clothes. Not the thrifted things she's been wearing. Not the things from discount stores. Dresses. Jeans that actually fit her. Shoes that don't have holes in them. A leather jacket that probably costs a thousand dollars.
She touches the fabric and feels something crack open in her chest.
"Why would you do this?" she asks.
"Because you came to me with nothing," he says. "Because I want you to have things. Because I can and you need it."
This is dangerous. This is exactly the thing she was afraid of. This is caring about someone who doesn't know who she really is.
But she puts on the clothes anyway.
The next day, James takes her to his office. It's on the top floor of a building that touches the sky. The view from his desk shows the entire city stretched out below them like he owns it. Maybe he does.
His team stops what they're doing when they see her. Iris feels their eyes on her like questions. Like they're trying to figure out who this woman is and why the boss is suddenly interested in having her around.
"This is Eleanor," James says to his team, and he says it like she's a business deal worth billions. "She's going to be around more. Everyone should know her."
She's around more. That becomes the pattern. James picks her up in the afternoon. He brings her to his office. He shows her his world. He introduces her to people like she belongs there.
And slowly, she starts to believe it.
By the end of the first week, she's moved into the master bedroom. Not because James asked. He never asks. He just decides and she realizes she doesn't want to say no. She wants to be closer to him. She wants to fall asleep in his bed and wake up to his voice saying good morning like she's the most important thing in his world.
That's the problem.
She's supposed to be using him. She's supposed to be letting his protection keep her safe until the trial, and then she's supposed to disappear from his life and he'll be better off never knowing the truth.
But she's falling in love with him instead.
He's falling in love with her too. She can see it in the way he looks at her when he thinks she's not paying attention. The way his hand finds hers. The way he tells her things about his childhood that he probably doesn't tell anyone.
One night, she's sitting on the couch and he puts his head in her lap like he needs to be held. Like he's been running on empty for so long that just having her there makes him human again.
"I've never trusted anyone before you," he says.
She doesn't answer. She can't. Because the truth would break him.
Instead, she runs her fingers through his hair and lets herself pretend that this is real. That she's real. That Eleanor Marsh is an actual person instead of a shield made of lies.
But the danger is still there. She can feel it in the shadows. She gets text messages that make her blood cold. Unknown numbers. Threats. Reminders that Marcus is getting closer.
She deletes them before James sees them.
She doesn't tell him about the detective's calls. She doesn't tell him about the witness protection program falling apart. She doesn't tell him that she's married him to survive, that he's just a shield, that when all of this is over she's supposed to disappear and never look back.
How can she tell him that when he's looking at her like she saved his life?
Two weeks in, they're at a restaurant. Expensive. The kind of place where they know James by name. She's wearing one of the dresses he bought her and she feels like she's playing pretend, like she's performing the role of a woman who deserves to be here.
James is across from her and he's talking about his business. About a new development. About plans that extend months and years into the future. Plans that include her.
"I want you to meet my mother," he says suddenly. "This week. I want her to know about you."
Iris feels her stomach drop.
"I don't think that's a good idea," she says.
"Why not?" he asks. "Are you embarrassed about me?"
"No," she says. "It's not that. It's just—"
"Then we'll do it," he says. He takes her hand across the table. "I want my life to know you exist. I want you to be real in my world."
She's already real in his world. That's the problem.
When they get back to the penthouse, James goes to take a shower. Iris sits on the couch and pulls out her phone. She needs to call Detective Price. She needs to know what's happening. She needs to understand how much time she has left before everything falls apart.
She's dialing his number when she notices something.
A man outside the building.
Just standing there. Smoking a cigarette. Watching the penthouse.
Her heart stops.
She moves to the window and looks more carefully. Is it the same man from her apartment? She can't tell from this distance. But she can tell that he's not supposed to be there. That he's watching. That Marcus has found her again.
She deletes the call history. She puts the phone down. She sits on the couch and tries to stop shaking.
This was always going to happen. She always knew this would happen. The only variable was when.
The answer is now.
James comes out of the shower with his hair wet and his shirt unbuttoned. He looks at her and his expression changes.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Nothing," she lies. "I'm just tired."
He sits next to her and pulls her close. She lets herself lean into him because this might be the last moment she has where she gets to pretend that she's real and that he loves her and that none of the truth matters.
"I'm going to keep you safe," he whispers into her hair. "Whatever you're running from, I'm going to keep you safe."
She believes him. That's the worst part. She believes that he would try. She believes that he would fight. She believes that he would burn the world down to protect her.
But she also knows that Marcus burns hotter.
She also knows that the man outside the building is just the first of many. That they're closing in. That James's penthouse and his power and his money aren't enough to stop what's coming.
And then her phone rings.
Unknown number. But she answers because she has to.
"Is he worth dying for?" the voice on the other end asks. Male. Calm. Terrifying.
"Marcus," she whispers.
James pulls back from her, his entire body going rigid.
"We can end this right now," Marcus says. "You come to me. You testify that you were lying. That you made it all up. And I let your new boyfriend live."
"Iris," James says. It's not a question. It's her real name. Which means he finally understands.
Which means everything just broke.
"Or," Marcus continues, "you stay with him. You play house. You let yourself think you're safe. And I'll burn it all down with him inside it."
Iris hangs up the phone.
She looks at James and sees the moment when love turns into betrayal in his eyes.
"Who are you?" he asks.
And before she can answer, the alarms on the penthouse start screaming.