The Sterling Enterprises building stretched fifty stories into the Manhattan sky, all glass and steel and cold ambition. Grace stood outside it for five minutes before going in, the contract folder clutched against her chest like armor. People moved around her, power suits and purposeful strides, everyone exactly where they belonged.
She didn't belong anywhere.
The lobby was all white marble and modern art that looked like accidents someone had paid millions for. A woman at the front desk smiled without seeing her and pointed toward the elevators. Forty-third floor. The ascent made Grace's ears pop.
Sebastian's assistant was waiting when the elevator doors opened. She was young, efficient, the kind of woman who'd never had to question her own worth. "Miss Reed. Mr. Sterling is expecting you. Please follow me."
The office hallway was lined with photographs. Sebastian Sterling shaking hands with world leaders. Sebastian Sterling cutting ribbons at charity events. Sebastian Sterling looking perpetually untouchable. In every image, he had the same expression. Not quite cold. Colder than cold. Like he'd decided the world wasn't worth his warmth a long time ago and had never reconsidered.
The assistant knocked once and entered without waiting for a response.
"Mr. Sterling, Miss Reed is here."
He was sitting behind a desk that cost more than Grace's entire life. Floor-to-ceiling windows behind him showed Manhattan sprawling beneath him like something he owned. Which, probably, most of it did. He didn't look up from his computer immediately. He finished typing something, hit enter, and only then acknowledged her existence.
When he did, Grace understood why her father had wanted this deal so badly.
Sebastian Sterling was younger than she'd expected. Early thirties, maybe. Dark hair, sharp features, the kind of handsome that made people stare. But it was his eyes that stopped her cold. They were gray like winter, intelligent and empty at the same time. Like looking into a room that had been abandoned for years.
"Miss Reed," he said. Not a greeting. A confirmation. "You brought the signed contract."
It wasn't a question. Grace nodded and placed the folder on his desk. He opened it, scanned the pages, and set it aside without comment. Like her signature meant nothing. Like she meant nothing.
"Good," he said. He gestured for her to sit. "We can proceed with the official documents. But first, I want to clarify the terms."
Grace sat. The chair was designed by someone who'd never considered comfort.
"One year," Sebastian said, sliding a fresh contract across the desk. Thicker than the previous one. More official. "Public appearances only. Charity events, business dinners, the occasional gala. I'll send you a schedule a week in advance. My assistant will handle all logistics."
He was looking past her, at the window, at Manhattan, at anything but her face.
"I work long hours," he continued. "Eighteen-hour days are standard. You won't see me much. When you do, we'll maintain a cordial relationship for the sake of appearances. Beyond that, we're strangers."
Grace wanted to ask where she would live. If she would be alone all the time. If he would ever actually speak to her in sentences that included her participation. But she stayed quiet. This was the transaction she'd agreed to. This was the cost.
"You'll have your own space in my penthouse," Sebastian said, answering the question she hadn't asked. "Fully equipped. You can decorate it as you wish. My staff will ensure everything you need is provided. Food, clothing, transportation. All handled."
All handled. Like she was a project. Like she was a piece of the penthouse that needed maintaining.
"I don't expect you to do anything beyond what's written in that contract," he said. He finally looked at her. For one second, their eyes met. His were empty. Gray and empty like a winter sky. "Don't expect more from me than what's written either. No romantic involvement. No emotional expectations. This is business, Miss Reed. You're solving a problem for me. I'm solving a problem for you. That's the entirety of our relationship."
Grace nodded. She was good at accepting these kinds of terms. She'd been trained her whole life to accept them.
"Do you have any questions?" Sebastian asked.
She had thousands. Where would she sleep? Would he ever touch her? What happened if she couldn't pretend hard enough? What happened if people could tell this was a lie? What happened if she broke?
But Grace had learned that questions only complicated things.
"No," she said quietly.
"Good." He slid the new contract toward her. "Sign and date."
There was a pen on his desk. She picked it up. This contract was different from the one she'd signed at midnight. This one was official. Legal. Witnessed by lawyers and notarized by people who probably thought this was perfectly normal.
Grace Eleanor Reed. She signed her name again, and this time it didn't feel like surrender. It felt like drowning.
"The wedding is in one week," Sebastian said as she signed. "We'll do it at City Hall. Small ceremony. Witnesses only. The announcement will be made to the press afterward. My team will handle your appearance. Hair, makeup, wardrobe. Show up, marry me, smile for the cameras."
He stood, which meant she was supposed to stand too. The meeting was over. She'd been dismissed.
"One week," Grace repeated.
"One week," he confirmed. "In the meantime, my assistant will contact you about logistics. Move your things to the penthouse when you're ready. You have the code to access the building."
He was already turning back to his computer, already finished with her. That's when Grace realized something that made her chest tight. Sebastian Sterling didn't think she was a person. He thought she was a solution. A placeholder. Something that had checked into his life for exactly one year before checking back out.
She was less than furniture. She was a problem that had been solved.
Grace turned to leave.
"Miss Reed."
She stopped. Turned back. Sebastian was still looking at his screen, but he'd spoken. That must mean something mattered enough to say.
"Don't make this complicated," he said without looking at her. "A lot of people are depending on this arrangement working smoothly. Your father. My grandfather. The employees of both our families' companies. Don't be someone who ruins things for everyone else."
It was the cruelest thing anyone had said to her, and it was also the most honest. He was telling her that her needs didn't matter. That her comfort wasn't a consideration. That the only thing required of her was compliance.
"I won't," Grace said.
"Good," Sebastian said. "You're dismissed."
Grace left his office without looking back. In the elevator, she caught her reflection in the mirrored walls. She looked like a ghost. Like someone already gone. Like someone who'd already learned to disappear.
When she reached the lobby, she checked her phone. A text from an unknown number: "Miss Reed, this is Sebastian's assistant, Lauren. I've been assigned to coordinate your move. When can we arrange access to your family home to collect your belongings? Also, the wedding dress fitting is tomorrow at 2 PM. The designer is expecting you at this address."
An address followed. Followed by: "Mr. Sterling has selected three dress options for your approval. They should match his vision for how this marriage should appear to the public."
Not her vision. His vision.
Grace looked at the address. The designer was one of the most exclusive in Manhattan. The kind of place she would never have stepped foot in. Her wedding dress had already been chosen for her before she'd even met her husband.
Everything had already been decided.
She was just the body that had to fill in the spaces.