The penthouse was too quiet.
Maya noticed it the moment the door closed behind them—no traffic noise, no neighbors arguing, no familiar chaos of her old apartment. Just a thick, expensive silence that pressed against her ears.
Adrian set his keys on the console table with deliberate calm. He loosened his cufflinks, movements efficient, controlled. This was his territory. He belonged here.
Maya did not.
"You can take the bedroom on the left," Adrian said, not turning around. "It has an attached bathroom. The other one is mine."
"Good," Maya replied quickly. "Clear boundaries."
He glanced at her, as if noting how fast she'd said it. "That was the idea."
She nodded and walked toward her assigned room, dragging her small suitcase behind her. The room was pristine—white sheets, muted gray walls, soft lighting. It looked like something out of a luxury magazine.
It didn't look lived in.
She sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands. This wasn't a hotel. And it wasn't home.
This was where she would pretend to be someone's wife.
A knock sounded softly on the open door.
"Yes?" she called, too quickly.
Adrian stood there, already out of his jacket, sleeves rolled up. For the first time, she saw him without the armor of a full suit. He looked… human. Tired, even.
"There's food," he said. "If you're hungry."
"I'm not," she replied.
A lie. But she didn't feel like eating in front of him, and didn't want to make small talk in this strange new reality.
Adrian nodded once. "All right."
He turned to leave, then paused. "If you need anything—"
"I won't," she said, cutting him off. "Good night."
For a second, something unreadable crossed his face. Then it was gone.
"Good night, Maya."
The door clicked shut.
She lay awake for hours.
The bed was too soft. The room is too quiet. Her thoughts were too loud.
She wondered what Adrian was doing on the other side of the penthouse. Sleeping peacefully? Working? Staring at the ceiling like she was?
Don't think about him, she told herself.
This was just six months. Six months of pretending. Six months of rules.
Still, she found herself listening for sounds—footsteps, a door opening, anything to remind her she wasn't alone in this vast, unfamiliar space.
Finally, sometime past midnight, she drifted into restless sleep.
A sharp noise jolted her awake.
Maya sat up, heart racing.
Another sound—glass clinking. Soft footsteps.
She glanced at the clock. 2:17 a.m.
Her throat tightened.
Slowly, she slipped out of bed and opened her door just a crack. The lights in the living area were dim, but she could see Adrian standing at the kitchen counter, a glass of water in his hand.
He wasn't on his phone. He wasn't working.
He looked… unsettled.
"Adrian?" she said softly.
He turned, clearly startled. For a brief moment, his carefully controlled mask slipped. His eyes were distant, shadows pooling beneath them.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he said.
"You didn't," she lied. "I couldn't sleep."
He nodded, as if that made sense. "Neither could I."
An awkward silence stretched between them.
She stepped into the living area, folding her arms around herself. "This is strange," she admitted quietly.
"Yes," he said. "It is."
Another pause.
"Do you regret it?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Adrian's gaze sharpened. "Do you?"
She hesitated. "I don't know yet."
He took a slow sip of water. "Neither do I."
It was the most honest thing he'd said to her all day.
She noticed then that his hands were tense, fingers gripping the glass a little too tightly. "You don't seem like someone who struggles with change."
"I don't," he said. "I struggle with loss of control."
Maya nodded. "That makes sense."
He studied her for a moment. "You're handling this better than I expected."
She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "I've had practice pretending everything's fine."
Something shifted between them at that. A small crack in the wall.
"I'll make coffee in the morning," Adrian said after a moment. "You can take it to go if you want."
"Thanks," she said. "That's… considerate."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
They passed each other the next morning like strangers sharing a hotel.
Maya dressed carefully—nothing too formal, nothing too intimate. She wanted to look like a wife, but not like she was trying to be one.
Adrian was already up, coffee prepared exactly how she liked it. She noticed, even though she didn't comment.
"Press conference at ten," he said. "You don't need to speak unless addressed."
"Understood."
"And tonight," he added, "there's dinner. Board members. They'll be watching."
"I'll behave," she replied flatly.
"That's not what I meant," he said. "They'll be watching me. For how I treat you."
She looked at him then. "And how will you treat me?"
"With respect," he said immediately. "Always."
She believed him.
That was the dangerous part.
That night, after the cameras, the smiles, the perfectly crafted lies, they returned to the penthouse exhausted.
Maya kicked off her shoes near the door. "I hate this," she muttered.
"Pretending?" Adrian asked.
"The being looked at like I'm a strategy," she said. "Like I don't exist outside of you."
He was quiet for a moment. Then, "You exist."
She turned to face him, surprised by the firmness in his voice.
"I know," she said softly. "I just don't want to disappear."
"You won't," he said. "Not here."
The air between them felt heavier suddenly. Charged.
Maya took a step back. "Good night, Adrian."
"Good night," he replied.
She walked to her room, heart racing for reasons she didn't want to examine.
Later, she woke up again.
This time, it wasn't a noise—it was a feeling.
A sense of not being alone.
She opened her eyes to see Adrian standing in the doorway, panic etched across his face.
"Adrian?" she whispered, sitting up. "What's wrong?"
He seemed to realize where he was, what he was doing. He stepped back immediately. "I'm sorry. I— It's nothing."
"You don't look like 'nothing,'" she said gently.
He hesitated, then turned away. "Go back to sleep."
She watched him leave, her chest tight.
This was supposed to be simple.
Separate rooms. Separate hearts.
But something about that first night told her the truth—
Living together would change things.
And rules, no matter how carefully written, were fragile in the dark.
Next: Chapter 8 - The Enemy Takes Notice
The world believed their lie.
But one man was watching too closely.
Tonight | 11:30 PM – 12:30 AM