Chapter 6

Harper stood in her apartment doorway, staring at two beat up suitcases that contained her entire life.

When she had told Jessie she was moving into Sebastian's penthouse, her best friend had gone silent for a full thirty seconds before exploding.

"Are you insane? Harper, you barely know this man!"

"I know but I have no choice, it was stated in the contract," Harper said.

Now, looking at those two suitcases, she felt the reality of what she had agreed to settle in her chest like a weight. Twelve months. Twelve months of living with a stranger. Twelve months of pretending to be married to a man who saw her hotel as nothing more than a development opportunity.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Sebastian: "Car is downstairs. The driver will help with bags."

Of course he had sent a driver. Of course he had not come himself. Harper should not have been disappointed, but something small and stubborn tightened in her chest anyway.

She grabbed both suitcases, took one last look at her cramped studio apartment with its broken heater and suspicious stain on the ceiling, and headed down.

The car was a sleek black sedan that probably cost more than she had made in the last two years. The driver, an older man with kind eyes, took her bags without comment. Harper slid into the back seat and tried not to think about how the leather smelled expensive.

The drive to Sebastian's building took fifteen minutes through downtown Seattle. Harper watched the city slide past her window, getting progressively more upscale with each block. By the time they pulled up to a modern glass tower overlooking Elliott Bay, she felt completely out of her depth.

The lobby was all marble and modern art. The elevator required a key card. Everything screamed money in a way that made Harper acutely aware of her thrift store jacket and scuffed boots.

Sebastian was waiting when the elevator doors opened directly into his penthouse. He had loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, which somehow made him look more intimidating rather than less. His eyes went to her suitcases, and something flickered across his face too quickly to read.

"That is it?" he asked. "That is everything?"

Harper felt defensive heat crawl up her neck. "I travel light."

"Clearly." He stepped aside to let her in. "The guest room is down the hall, second door on the left. You can use it as an office too if you need space to work."

The penthouse was exactly what she had expected. Floor to ceiling windows, minimalist furniture, a kitchen that looked like it had never been used. Everything was clean lines and neutral colors. There was not a single personal item visible anywhere.

"It is very..." Harper searched for a diplomatic word. "Modern."

"You can say sterile. Most people do." Sebastian moved to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. "You want something? Water? Coffee?"

"I am fine."

Awkward silence settled between them. Harper stood in the middle of the living room with her two suitcases, feeling like an intruder. This was supposed to be her home for the next year, but it felt like a very expensive hotel where she was afraid to touch anything.

"We should probably establish some ground rules," Sebastian said finally. He set his glass down and crossed his arms. "Make this easier for both of us."

"Okay."

"Your space is your space. I will not go into your room without permission. Same goes for my room." He nodded toward a set of double doors at the far end of the penthouse. "This is a business arrangement. We maintain professional boundaries."

"Agreed."

"We need to be seen together regularly. Dinners, events, occasional public outings. Claire will send you a calendar each week with required appearances."

"Required appearances," Harper repeated. It sounded so transactional. Which it was, obviously, but hearing it stated so plainly made her stomach turn.

Sebastian's jaw tightened. "This only works if people believe it. That means we show up together, we look comfortable with each other, and we do not give anyone reason to question the marriage."

"I understand."

"Do you?" His eyes were sharp, searching. "Because if you are having second thoughts, now is the time to say so. Once we start this, we are committed."

Harper thought about the Adriatic. About the five million dollars sitting in her account. About the sixty days she had once had to save the hotel slowly turning into twelve months of possibility.

"I am not having second thoughts," she said.

"Good." Sebastian's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Then we are clear on expectations."

"Crystal clear."

More awkward silence. Harper shifted her weight, suddenly exhausted. It had been a long day of signing papers and making decisions that felt too big for her brain to fully process. She wanted to collapse on a bed and sleep for twelve hours straight.

"I should probably unpack," she said.

"Right. Yeah." Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. It was the first genuinely awkward gesture she had ever seen him make. "The bathroom is attached to your room. Towels in the closet. If you need anything else, just let me know."

"Ok."

Harper grabbed her suitcases and headed down the hall, hyperaware of Sebastian's eyes on her back. The guest room was twice the size of her entire apartment, with a king bed, a desk, and its own walk-in closet. The bathroom had a rainfall shower and heated floors.

She set her suitcases on the bed and stood there for a moment, taking it all in. This was her life now. Living in a penthouse with a man she barely knew, pretending to be married, all so she could save a building.

Her phone buzzed. Another text from Jessie: "Are you alive? Should I call 911?"

Harper smiled despite everything and typed back: "Still alive. Just moved in. It is weird."

"Weird how?"

"Like living in a hotel. Everything is too nice."

"Better than your apartment where the heat did not work."

"True."

"Are you okay though? Really?"

Harper looked around the room at the expensive furniture and pristine walls and the complete absence of anything personal. She thought about Sebastian standing in his sterile living room, laying out rules and boundaries like they were negotiating a business contract. Which they were. That was literally what this was.

"Yeah," she typed back. "I am okay."

It was not entirely true, but it was not entirely a lie either. She was okay. She was going to be okay. She just had to survive twelve months, keep her heart locked down, and remember that this was business.

How hard could it be?

Harper opened her first suitcase and began unpacking, trying very hard not to think about the answer to the question.

Chapter 7

The charity gala was exactly the kind of event Harper had spent her entire life avoiding. Crystal chandeliers, champagne towers, and people wearing jewelry worth more than most cars. She stood next to Sebastian in a borrowed dress Amanda had insisted on sending over three options and tried to look like she belonged.

"You're doing fine," Sebastian murmured, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. To anyone watching, it looked natural, comfortable. Harper knew it was performance.

"I feel like everyone is staring."

"They are. We're the new scandal. Mysterious marriage, whirlwind romance, all that." His mouth curved into something that might have been a smile if it reached his eyes. "Just stay close and follow my lead."

Harper had been following his lead all evening. Smiling when he smiled, laughing at his jokes, playing the role of blissfully happy newlywed. It was exhausting. Her face hurt from holding the same pleasant expression for two hours.

They were making their way toward the bar when Sebastian went rigid beside her. His hand pressed harder against her back, and Harper felt tension radiate through his entire body.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing. Just…" He stopped mid-sentence.

A woman was approaching them. Tall, blonde, devastating in a red dress that probably cost more than Harper's entire wardrobe. She moved with the kind of confidence that came from knowing every eye in the room was on her, and she smiled like a shark circling prey.

"Sebastian," the woman said, her voice warm and familiar. "I heard you'd be here. I was hoping we'd run into each other."

Sebastian's expression went carefully blank. "Vanessa."

Vanessa. The name hit Harper like cold water. She knew that name. Claire had mentioned it once, carefully, when discussing Sebastian's past. Vanessa Hartley. The ex-fiancée.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Vanessa's eyes slid to Harper, assessing and dismissive in the same glance.

"Harper, this is Vanessa Hartley. Vanessa, my wife, Harper Cotton." The way Sebastian said "wife" was pointed, deliberate.

"Wife." Vanessa's smile widened, showing too many teeth. "Yes, I heard about that. Quite the surprise for everyone who knows Sebastian. Especially given how quickly it all happened." She took a sip of her champagne, her gaze never leaving Harper's face. "You must be very special to have accomplished what no one else could."

"I don't know about special," Harper said carefully. "Just lucky, I guess."

"Lucky." Vanessa laughed, the sound sharp and brittle. "That's one word for it."

Sebastian's hand was now gripping Harper's waist hard enough that she'd probably have bruises tomorrow. "It was good seeing you, Vanessa, but we should…"

"Oh, don't run off so quickly. I've been dying to meet the woman who finally got Sebastian Colton to commit." Vanessa tilted her head, studying Harper like she was a particularly interesting specimen. "Tell me, how did you manage it? What's your secret?"

"There's no secret," Harper said. She could feel eyes on them now. Other guests noticing the confrontation, phones probably already out and recording.

"No?" Vanessa's expression was all false innocence. "Because Sebastian and I were together for three years, and he could never quite bring himself to actually go through with marriage. Always had some excuse. Work was too busy. The timing wasn't right. He needed to focus on the company." She looked at Sebastian, her smile turning sharp. "But apparently, the timing was perfect for you, wasn't it, darling? What was it, three weeks from meeting to marriage?"

"Two weeks," Sebastian said flatly. "And our relationship is none of your business."

"Two weeks." Vanessa shook her head in mock amazement. "That's even more impressive. You must have really swept him off his feet, Harper. What was it that changed his mind? What did you have that I don't?"

Harper felt heat crawl up her neck. She wasn't stupid. She could read between every line Vanessa was drawing. The implication was clear: there was something transactional about this marriage, something that made Sebastian finally commit after refusing for years.

The worst part was that Vanessa was right.

"What we have is real," Harper heard herself say, the lie coming easier than it should. "And it's private."

"Private." Vanessa's laugh was hollow. "Sebastian Colton doesn't do private. He does calculated. He does strategic." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper that somehow carried perfectly. "Word of advice, Harper? Watch your back. Sebastian is brilliant at making you feel like you're the center of his world right up until you're not useful anymore. Then you'll discover just how quickly you can be replaced."

"That's enough." Sebastian's voice was ice. "This conversation is over."

"Is it?" Vanessa straightened, her smile returning. "Well, congratulations on your marriage. I'm sure it'll be absolutely magical for however long it lasts." She raised her champagne glass in a mocking toast. "To love and commitment. May you have better luck with both than I did."

She walked away, leaving a wake of whispers and stares behind her.

Harper stood frozen, Sebastian's hand still gripping her waist. She could feel him breathing carefully, deliberately, like he was counting to keep from exploding.

"We should leave," he said quietly.

"Sebastian…"

"Not here." His jaw was tight enough that Harper could see the muscle jumping. "We'll talk in the car."

They made their exit as gracefully as possible, which wasn't very graceful at all. Harper was aware of every pair of eyes tracking them, every whispered conversation starting the moment they passed. By tomorrow morning, the encounter with Vanessa would be all over social media.

The car ride back to the penthouse was silent. Sebastian stared out the window, his expression unreadable. Harper wanted to ask what Vanessa had meant, wanted to know if there was truth buried in all that venom, but the words stuck in her throat.

When they finally got home, Sebastian went straight to the bar and poured himself two fingers of scotch. He downed half of it in one swallow.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," he said without turning around.

"Is it true?" Harper asked. "Were you engaged to her?"

"For about six months. Three years ago."

"What happened?"

Sebastian finally turned to face her. He looked tired, older somehow than he had that morning. "I broke it off. Vanessa wanted things I couldn't give her."

"Like marriage?"

"Like marriage that actually meant something." He took another drink. "She wanted the wedding, the status, the story. She didn't actually want me."

"That's what she said about you," Harper pointed out quietly.

Something flickered across Sebastian's face. Pain, maybe, or anger. "Yeah. I guess she did."

"So which one of you is telling the truth?"

Sebastian was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was careful, measured. "Vanessa isn't wrong that I'm calculated. I am. I think ten steps ahead, I plan for contingencies, I don't do anything without understanding the consequences." He met Harper's eyes. "But she's wrong about you."

"How so?"

"You're not part of some strategy. You're not a piece on a board." He set down his glass. "This arrangement we have, it's business. But that doesn't mean I'm going to treat you the way Vanessa is implying."

Harper wanted to believe him. Standing there in his expensive penthouse, watching him struggle with words that didn't come naturally, she wanted very badly to believe that Sebastian Colton had some line he wouldn't cross.

But Vanessa's words kept echoing in her head: "Watch your back. Sebastian is brilliant at making you feel like you're the center of his world right up until you're not useful anymore."

"I'm going to bed," Harper said finally. "It's been a long night."

"Harper…"

"Goodnight, Sebastian."

She walked down the hall to her room, closed the door, and leaned against it. Her hands were shaking. She wasn't sure if it was anger or fear or just exhaustion from maintaining a performance for hours.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "You looked uncomfortable tonight. Trouble in paradise already? VH"

Harper stared at the message, her stomach dropping. Vanessa had her number. Vanessa was watching. And from the tone of that text, Vanessa wasn't done making trouble.

Harper deleted the message, turned off her phone, and tried very hard not to think about what she'd gotten herself into.

In the living room, she could hear Sebastian pouring another drink. The sound of glass on glass was sharp in the quiet, a reminder that she wasn't the only one rattled by tonight.

They were one week into this arrangement, and already the cracks were showing.

Harper closed her eyes and wondered how they were possibly going to survive eleven more months.