Zoe's POV
Zoe's been staring at the garment bags for ten minutes.
They arrived this morning in a car that pulled up to her apartment building. A driver in a suit handed her four oversized bags and said "Mr. Hale arranged these for you" before leaving. Now the bags are spread across her bed like evidence of something she can't quite name.
Inside each one are clothes she could never afford.
Dresses. Shoes. A leather jacket that probably costs more than her monthly rent. A jewelry box with a delicate gold necklace and matching earrings. Everything is designer. Everything has tags still attached. Everything is her size exactly.
There's a note tucked into the first bag written in handwriting she recognizes from the contract.
"For this weekend. They are yours to keep regardless. M."
Zoe reads it three times trying to figure out what that means. Yours to keep regardless. Regardless of what? Regardless of whether she shows up? Regardless of whether she does a good job pretending?
It feels less like a business arrangement and more like something else. Something that makes her uncomfortable in ways she can't explain.
She takes a photo of the clothes and sends it to Lena with no explanation.
Her best friend calls immediately.
"Girl what did you get yourself into?" Lena's voice is sharp with worry.
Zoe sits on the edge of her bed, surrounded by luxury. "He sent me clothes for the weekend. Designer stuff. Really expensive stuff."
"How expensive?"
Zoe pulls out a price tag from one of the dresses and reads it. Her breath catches. "Three thousand dollars. Lena this dress costs three thousand dollars."
There's a long silence on the other end of the line.
"He's trying to buy you," Lena says finally. "That's what rich guys do. They buy their way into everything."
"It's for the weekend," Zoe says but her voice sounds uncertain. "For appearances. I have to look the part."
"You could look the part in something way cheaper than three thousand dollars." Lena's protective mode is in full effect now. "This is him showing off. Showing you what he can do. What he can give you. It's manipulation, Zoe."
Maybe Lena's right. But Zoe is looking at the dress and imagining herself wearing it and for the first time in months, she doesn't feel invisible.
"I need this money," Zoe says quietly.
"I know you do. I just need you to remember that nothing comes free. Not from guys like him."
After they hang up, Zoe tries on the first dress.
It's emerald green and it fits like it was made for her. Like Marcus went to a designer and said "make something for my vision of Zoe" and this is what they created. The way it drapes. The way it hits at her waist. The way it makes her eyes look darker and deeper and like they belong to someone important.
She looks in the mirror and for a moment, she doesn't recognize herself.
That night Marcus calls.
His voice comes through her phone and it's different. Softer. Like he's been thinking about her all day and now that he's talking to her, he can finally exhale.
"Hi," he says simply.
"Hi," Zoe says back.
"I wanted to confirm the pickup time. I'll be there at six in the morning. Is that still okay?"
Six in the morning means she has to wake up before sunrise. Means she has to spend hours in a car with him before he tells her what he promised to tell her. Means she has to sit with her own nervousness for longer than she wants.
"Yeah," she says. "Six is fine."
There's quiet on the other end. Not the comfortable kind. The kind where someone is trying to figure out how to say something difficult.
"About tomorrow," Marcus says finally. "In the car. When I tell you everything."
"You're scaring me a little," Zoe admits.
"I know. I'm sorry. But it's important that you understand why before we get to the retreat. Before we have to perform for people." He pauses. "Zoe, if at any point this weekend you're uncomfortable, just tell me. We can leave immediately. I don't care about the investors or the optics or any of it. If you want out, we're out."
The words don't sound like business. They sound like something personal. Something that goes beyond contracts and money and fake relationships.
"Why are you being like this?" Zoe asks.
"Like what?"
"Like you care. Like this is about something more than just needing a girlfriend for a weekend."
The silence stretches between them and she can hear his breathing. Can hear him trying to figure out what to say without saying too much.
"I do care," Marcus says finally, and his voice is rough. "That's part of what I need to tell you tomorrow."
Zoe's heart is hammering against her ribs.
"Marcus, if you're going to tell me something tomorrow that's going to change how I see this whole thing, maybe you should just tell me now."
"If I tell you now, you'll spend all night panicking. Tomorrow morning when we're alone in the car, I can explain it properly. Can answer your questions without you deciding I'm insane before you hear me out."
"I think you might actually be insane," Zoe says but there's no anger in it.
He laughs and it sounds like the boy she used to know. The one who used to hide his serious face behind jokes.
"Probably," he agrees. "Get some sleep. I'll see you at six."
After he hangs up, Zoe stands in her empty apartment wearing the emerald dress and staring at herself in the mirror.
Tomorrow she's going to find out why Marcus Hale really contacted her.
Tomorrow she's going to learn what he's been keeping from her.
Tomorrow everything is going to change.
She tries to sleep but her brain won't shut off. At three in the morning she texts Lena: "I'm scared."
Lena responds immediately even though she should be sleeping: "Of what?"
"That he's going to tell me something I can't unhear. That this is going to become real instead of just business. That I'm going to fall for him and it's going to destroy me."
The response takes a minute: "Then don't fall. Keep your walls up. Remember he's paying you. That's all this is."
But Zoe knows that's not true anymore. If it was just business, he wouldn't have called tonight. If it was just business, his voice wouldn't have sounded so careful. So vulnerable.
If it was just business, she wouldn't be terrified of what he's going to tell her tomorrow.
At five-fifty in the morning, Zoe's waiting outside her building with a small bag packed.
The black car pulls up exactly at six. Marcus is driving. He looks like he hasn't slept. His dark hair is messy and there are shadows under his eyes and his expression is all raw nerves.
When he sees her, his entire face shifts.
It's a look that tells her everything. Before he even opens his mouth, before he says a single word, she knows this is going to hurt.
She gets in the car.
Marcus starts driving in silence. They're out of the city before he speaks.
"I need to tell you something before we get to the Hamptons," he says quietly. "Something that changes everything about why I hired you."
Zoe waits.
"Fourteen years ago, I left you in fifth grade and I never stopped thinking about you," Marcus continues, his hands tight on the steering wheel. "I looked for you when my company became successful. Found out about your struggles. About your mother. And instead of reaching out like a normal person, I got scared and I created this fake relationship because I didn't know how else to be near you without admitting the truth."
Zoe's entire body goes still.
"The truth is I'm in love with you," Marcus says. "I have been since we were kids. And I know that's insane and scary and unfair to put on you. But you asked for the whole story and that's it. That's the whole story."
Outside the car window, Manhattan blurs past.
Zoe doesn't know what to say.
She doesn't know if she should laugh or cry or run.
She doesn't know anything except that nothing about this weekend is going to go the way she planned.