Kaia stepped out of the Maybach. Her heels clicked against the damp stone pavers. She tilted her head back, staring up at the towering glass facade of The Haven Estate.

Ethan walked past her. He tapped a code into the digital keypad next to the door. A soft chime sounded, and the heavy walnut door swung open automatically.

Kaia followed him inside. The foyer was massive, with ceilings soaring twenty feet high. A cascading crystal chandelier cast a warm, golden glow over the space.

A woman in a spotless uniform stood near the entrance.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Wilson. I am Mrs. Holloway," the housekeeper said, bowing her head respectfully.

Mrs. Holloway stepped forward and gently took Kaia's damp shawl. Her eyes were warm, devoid of the calculating judgment Kaia was used to from the Miranda staff.

Ethan handed the suitcase to another maid. He turned to Kaia.

"Ma'am, Mr. Wilson said you have full reign of the house. Please feel free to look around," Ethan said. He gave a brief nod and walked out, the front door clicking shut behind him.

Kaia walked forward. Her shoes sank into the thick wool rug. She stepped down into the sunken living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a staggering view of the New York skyline.

Her eyes caught something in the corner of the room. A large, illuminated architectural model sat on a custom pedestal.

Kaia walked over to it. It was a perfect, scale replica of The Haven Estate.

Ethan had walked back in holding a tablet. He saw her looking at it.

"Mr. Wilson designed the initial blueprints himself," Ethan said, tapping his screen. "He holds a dual degree in architecture from MIT."

Kaia blinked. She turned to look at Ethan. Jaxson Wilson, the ruthless Wall Street predator, was an architect?

She pointed to a specific section of the model. A beautiful glass sunroom extended out into the manicured gardens. "Did he design this part too?"

Ethan smiled. "Yes. Mr. Wilson knows you are a screenwriter and that you often work late into the night. He added the sunroom specifically for you. He said the natural light there would be perfect for your inspiration."

Kaia's heart slammed against her ribs. A hot, tight sensation bloomed in her chest.

She immediately dug her fingernails into her palms. Stop it, she told herself. It's just PR. He's building the perfect set for the perfect fake marriage.

Mrs. Holloway gestured toward the private elevator. "If you'd like to see the living quarters, ma'am?"

Kaia nodded. They rode the elevator to the second floor.

The doors slid open to a wide hallway lined with plush carpeting. At the far end stood a set of double carved wooden doors.

Mrs. Holloway pushed them open. "The master suite. Mr. Wilson's belongings are already in the dressing room."

Kaia stepped inside. The room was cavernous. A massive King-size bed dominated the center, covered in dark gray silk sheets.

Kaia walked toward the en-suite bathroom. She stopped in the doorway. The marble vanity held only one set of toiletries-men's. The air in the room was thick with the scent of cedar and mint. Jaxson's scent.

It was a purely male territory.

Kaia's breathing turned shallow. The walls suddenly felt like they were closing in on her. Her chest tightened with a sudden, overwhelming panic.

She turned around. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, rubbing her collarbones in a defensive posture.

"Are there other guest rooms on this floor?" Kaia asked. Her voice was slightly pitched.

Mrs. Holloway blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Yes, ma'am. Down the other hall. But Mr. Wilson instructed that you would be staying in the master suite."

Kaia bit the inside of her cheek. The metallic taste of blood grounded her.

"I am a very light sleeper," Kaia said, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't want to disturb Mr. Wilson. I'll take a guest room."

Mrs. Holloway looked distressed. "Ma'am, I really must ask Mr. Wilson before making that kind of change."

Kaia didn't want to make the woman's job harder. She forced a tight smile. "It's fine. I'll call him and tell him myself."

Mrs. Holloway looked relieved. She led Kaia down the opposite hallway and opened the door to a warm, beige-toned guest suite.

Kaia immediately told the maid to bring her suitcase inside. She started unpacking her clothes, shoving them into the empty closet.

Night fell. The house grew completely silent.

Kaia sat on the edge of the guest bed. She stared at her phone screen. Her thumb hovered over Jaxson's name in her contacts. Her stomach churned with anxiety. She had to make the call.

Kaia sucked in a sharp breath. Her thumb pushed down on the screen, hitting the call button.

She pressed the phone to her ear. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.

The phone rang twice.

"Kaia."

Jaxson's voice was deep, laced with a heavy exhaustion. In the background, Kaia could hear the faint, crisp sound of paper pages turning.

Kaia swallowed hard. Her throat was tight. "Jaxson," she said. Her voice came out breathless and weak.

The sound of turning pages stopped instantly.

"Are you not used to the new house?" Jaxson asked. His tone dropped an octave, becoming noticeably softer.

"No, no," Kaia rushed to say. "The house is beautiful. Mrs. Holloway is wonderful."

A low chuckle vibrated through the speaker. The sound sent a sudden rush of heat straight to Kaia's ears.

"If everything is fine," Jaxson said smoothly, "then you wouldn't be calling me. What's the problem?"

Kaia gripped the bedsheet with her free hand, twisting the fabric. He saw right through her.

"I... I want to sleep in the guest room," Kaia blurted out.

Dead silence.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

The silence stretched over the phone line like a physical weight pressing down on Kaia's chest. Her lungs seized.

"I write scripts late at night," Kaia babbled, desperate to fill the void. "My schedule is terrible. I don't want to wake you up. It's just better for both of our sleep quality if we-"

Jaxson pinched the bridge of his nose on the other end of the line. He knew she was lying. He knew she was terrified of sharing a bed with him.

"Fine," Jaxson said. His voice was completely flat. "Sleep wherever you feel comfortable."

Kaia froze. Her mouth fell open slightly. She had prepared a dozen arguments. She expected a fight.

"You... you agree?" Kaia asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "What about the staff? Won't they talk?"

"At The Haven Estate, you don't need to care about anyone's opinion," Jaxson said. His voice hardened with absolute authority. "Including mine."

The words hit Kaia's chest like a physical blow. A strange, warm ripple spread through her stomach. What did that mean? Was he giving her freedom, or was he telling her he was so indifferent to this sham marriage that she could do whatever she wanted? The thought was both liberating and strangely insulting, twisting the warmth into a knot of deep confusion. She didn't know what to say.

"What did you eat for dinner?" Jaxson asked, abruptly shifting the conversation.

Kaia blinked. "I was tired from unpacking. I haven't eaten yet."

"Kaia." Jaxson's voice snapped like a whip. It was sharp and furious. "Do not play games with your health. Go downstairs right now and have the kitchen make you something."

Kaia flinched at the sudden reprimand. "Okay," she mumbled, sounding exactly like a scolded child.

Jaxson heard the soft submission in her voice. He let out a heavy sigh. "I have a dinner meeting tonight. I'll be back late. Go to sleep early."

"Goodnight," Kaia said softly.

She hung up the phone. She stared at the black screen, letting out a massive breath. The tension drained out of her muscles, leaving her feeling light and hollow.

She stood up and walked into the closet. She stripped off her clothes and pulled on a pair of loose, soft cotton pajamas.

She opened the bedroom door. The hallway sconces cast a dim, amber glow. The central air conditioning hummed quietly.

Kaia walked down the curved staircase. She stepped lightly on the balls of her feet, not wanting to wake Mrs. Holloway or the maids.

She found the massive open-concept kitchen in the dark. She flicked on a single, small spotlight above the marble island.

She opened the double-door industrial refrigerator. It was packed with wagyu beef and truffles, but she bypassed all of it. She grabbed two tomatoes and a handful of dry spaghetti.

She set the ingredients on the cold marble counter. She turned on the sink, the water rushing loudly as she washed the tomatoes. She grabbed a knife and started chopping.

She was completely focused on the rhythm of the blade against the cutting board. She didn't hear the faint electronic click of the front door unlocking.

Kaia scraped the chopped tomatoes off the cutting board and dumped them into the hot pan.

Sizzle.

The sharp hiss filled the kitchen. The sweet, acidic smell of cooking tomatoes immediately bloomed in the air.

Suddenly, a heavy footstep creaked against the hardwood floor in the dining room behind her.

Kaia's hand froze mid-air. Her stomach plummeted. Her fingers instantly tightened around the handle of the chef's knife.

She spun around, her heart hammering against her ribs. She raised the knife slightly, her eyes scanning the dark dining area.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice shaking.

A tall shadow detached itself from the darkness. He stepped into the edge of the spotlight's halo.

It was Jaxson.

He had taken off his suit jacket. His tie was loosened and hanging crookedly. The top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, exposing the strong column of his throat.

Kaia stared at him. The adrenaline crashed out of her system. Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a long, shaky breath. She lowered the knife, resting the tip on the cutting board.

Jaxson looked at the blade in her hand. He raised an eyebrow. A slow, dark smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Planning to murder your husband on the first night?" he asked.

Heat exploded across Kaia's cheeks. She shoved the knife to the far edge of the counter. "I thought someone broke in," she stammered.

Jaxson walked slowly toward the kitchen island. He stopped on the opposite side of the marble counter. He placed both hands flat on the surface and leaned his weight forward. His dark blue eyes locked onto her face.

As he leaned in, a wave of heat rolled off his body. The sharp scent of expensive whiskey mixed with his signature cedar cologne hit Kaia's nose. It was intoxicating and entirely too aggressive.

Kaia leaned backward, her spine pressing against the edge of the stove.

"You said you'd be late," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jaxson stared at the pink flush spreading down her neck. "The meeting was boring. I ended it early."

He didn't tell her that he had spent the entire dinner staring at his watch, terrified she was having a panic attack alone in a massive new house.

His eyes dropped from her face to the pan sizzling on the stove. His jaw tightened.

"Is that what you're feeding yourself?" Jaxson asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. "I told Mrs. Holloway to prepare a full dinner."

"I just wanted pasta," Kaia said quickly. "I didn't want to wake anyone up."

The pot of water next to the tomatoes suddenly boiled over. The lid rattled violently, water hissing as it hit the hot burner.

Kaia gasped. She spun around and grabbed the lid. A thick cloud of white steam blasted into her face.

Jaxson watched her slender back through the haze of the steam. His eyes darkened.

He walked around the edge of the island. He stepped directly behind her.

Kaia felt the sudden, burning heat of his chest against her back. Her entire body went rigid. Her hand froze on the wooden spoon. She stopped stirring.

Jaxson reached his long right arm straight over her shoulder.

His chest brushed against her shoulder blades. Kaia's breath hitched. She could feel the heavy, rhythmic thud of his heart through his shirt.

Jaxson grabbed the tall black pepper grinder sitting on the shelf just above the stove.

He didn't pull back. He stayed pressed against her. He leaned his head down, his mouth hovering mere inches from her ear.

"It needs pepper," he whispered. His voice was thick with alcohol and raw gravel.

He held the grinder directly over her pan. He twisted it twice. The sharp, spicy scent of crushed peppercorns hit the air.

Kaia couldn't breathe. Her lungs were completely paralyzed. She stared blindly at the boiling pasta, too terrified to turn her head. If she moved even an inch, her cheek would brush against his lips.

Jaxson stayed there. He didn't move away. He let the heavy, suffocating sexual tension hang in the air for three agonizing seconds.

Finally, he straightened up. He took a slow step back, putting a safe distance between them.

He looked at her flushed, panicked profile. He let out a soft breath, walked over to the built-in fridge, and poured himself a glass of ice water to cool the fire burning in his own veins.