“You can’t just move me into your house without asking.” Zane didn’t even glance at me as the car pulled up to the gates.
The estate sprawled beyond them like something out of a fever dream.
It had sharp angles, floor-to-ceiling glass.
And it was perched on a cliff that overlooked the city like it owned it.
“We’re married,” he said simply.
The words landed like a slap.
I hated how it sounded.
“The contract said public appearances.
Dinners.
Charity galas.
Not, ” I gestured at the house as I watched the way his hand was already reaching for the door handle.
“Not this.” I completed.
He got out then, didn’t argue or explain and just walked toward the entrance like he didn’t hear me, or worse, like what I said didn’t matter enough to warrant a response.
I had no choice but to follow.
The inside was colder than the outside.
That was the first thing I noticed.
It was massive with vaulted ceilings and marble floors that echoed when we walked across them.
The house had windows that framed the city like art pieces you weren’t allowed to touch.
Everything was precisely arranged like a museum rather than a house someone lived in.
I immediately felt out of place.
Zane moved through it like he’d done this a thousand times probably because he has.
It was his home and I was the stranger after all.
“Your room is on the third floor,” he told me, and I followed him up a staircase that just kept curving.
“The east wing.
My people will move your things tomorrow.” “My assistant will handle it,” I said quickly.
“They won’t.” I wanted to argue and fight because I needed some level of control.
So instead, I said nothing as he opened the door and stepped aside.
The room stopped me cold.
It wasn’t what I expected in the sense that it wasn’t impersonal or sparse or decorated in his taste.
It was almost my room.
The walls were soft grey.
The furniture was modern but warm with wooden accents that reminded me of my apartment.
There was a reading nook by the window with cushions in cream and sage.
The bed had a headboard I would have picked.
The lighting was warm and the rug was the exact shade I’d been looking at for months and never bought because it was too expensive.
Everything here was exactly like mine and this was very weird.
It made me feel like he had a private investigator follow me around for months learning exactly what I wanted and how I wanted things.
This is a breach of privacy!
My thoughts screamed.
I walked to the walk-in closet before he could leave.
The hangers were full of clothes in my exact size and style.
It was like looking at my “Pinterest Board” It had leather jackets I’d worn in photos and jeans in the exact wash I preferred.
Silk blouses in colors that matched my skin tone.
There were heels I recognized wanting and boots I’d screenshot on my Pinterest.
My hands shook as I reached for a hanger.
Everything was expensive.
Everything was me.
“How long?” My voice didn’t sound like mine.
“Does it matter?” He was still in the doorway.
I didn’t turn around.
“How long have you been watching me?” He didn’t answer, and that was the answer.
“I will leave you to it, settle down and get some rest.” he said and closed the door behind him.
It just kept getting weirder as I stepped into the bathroom.
It was marble and glass and was stocked with my exact shampoo and body wash.
At the rack also sat the exact brand of toothpaste I used.
At this point he might as well had just ripped this part of my life and just reassembled it in this wing of his house, piece by piece, until there was no difference between the life I’d lived and the life he’d been building for me here.
I took a shower to try and calm down after what I just witnessed .
The water was hot.
I felt really good so for a minute I closed my eyes and imagined I was somewhere else.
The water was helping me feel better.
When I got out and put on my towel I remembered where I really was.
My towel was made of egyptian cotton, really soft and expensive.
It made me think that no matter what I wanted I am still here and I belong to him.
I do not like that but it was something I had to deal with.
My phone rang as I was pulling on pajamas that I had laid on the bed early before my shower.
It’s Maya.
Of course it is.
“Talk to me” I said as I answered, putting the phone on speaker as I changed into my pyjamas “The wedding announcement is going live in forty minutes,” she said before even saying hello.
“I need final approval on the copy.
The PR team is losing it.
There are already speculations on Reddit, and we need to control the narrative before it spirals.” I was done with changing so I switched from loudspeaker, put the phone on my ears and stepped out onto the balcony, needing air.
I exhaled as the wind blew the soft silk over my skin causing goosebumps which I wasn’t sure came from the surreality of being here of just the cold air.
The city was glowing below me and its lights stretched out like someone spilled stars across the darkness.
I could see the Reed Industries building from here.
It was my building and my victory.
I had won even though it still felt raw and new.
“Can you hear me?” Maya asked, drawing me back to our conversation.
“Yeah, send it over,” I said.
Three seconds later, my phone lit up with the press release.
Sloane Elaine Reed and Zane Della-Ross announced their engagement today in a private ceremony.
The marriage is a union of two prominent families with deep roots in business and philanthropy.
A reception will be held next month.
It was perfect, sterile and everything a PR team would craft to control the story.
The idea was that no one should know it was a contract.
Or that I had no choice.
“Approve it,” I tell her.
“You didn’t even-” “Just approve it.” “Erm, okay.” she said and did exactly as i told her.
I went inside and laid on the bed waiting for the post to go live.
I watched it go live at 11:58 PM.
The likes rolled in, then there were comments and speculation.
I saw congratulations from people who barely knew my name suddenly appearing in my notifications like they had a right to celebrate this moment with me.
In two minutes, I’ll be twenty-five as a married woman.
Officially, legally as far as anyone knew.
I made it and Reed Industries was mine, the contract was working and Zane was playing his part so perfectly that not just the world was buying the story, but even I was almost convinced that this was all real.
I should have felt triumphant but instead, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a chasm I dug for myself.
The bedding smelt like high-end fabric softener.
It was nothing with character and just reminded me of a hotel.
So even though it looked like mine, it was nothing like me.
BEEP BEEP!
The clock read 12:00 AM.
It was now my twenty-fifth birthday.
And I was married to the one man I had spent years avoiding.