"HOME"
My eyes were fixed on the tall building we'd just pulled up to. Anthony had come with me, and throughout the ride, he'd been glued to his phone. Not that I craved his attention, but I couldn't help wondering—is this what I'll be dealing with?
We'd gone shopping earlier, and he'd picked out all my clothes. Even my underwear. Despite my cringing expression, he'd remained completely unfazed.
Now, staring at this towering structure, I couldn't help but feel a little... stunned.
"You own this?" I asked, turning to him.
Without looking up from his phone, he replied, "One of my buildings."
Hmph. Show-off.
We stepped out of the car. When I moved to help the driver with my bags, he waved me off with a kind smile.
Unlike Anthony, he had a friendly face.
I blinked as I stared up at the penthouse building, the sun catching on the glass panels. "Wow," I breathed, louder than I intended.
Anthony stepped beside me, still scrolling on his iPad like the world couldn't touch him. With the driver now carrying my things inside, Anthony walked ahead without a word.
I followed quietly behind.
His receptionist greeted us with a bright smile, dressed neatly in a dark blue uniform.
"Mr. Blake, welcome back."
Her eyes shifted to me. The smile stayed, but only briefly. I caught the flicker of confusion behind it.
"Who are you?"
"Ah." Anthony looked up from his iPad, stepping closer to the desk. He spoke casually.
"Meet Miss Adams," he said, glancing at me. Those smoky eyes made my toes curl.
"My fiancée. Be good to her, Reila."
"Huh?" Reila blinked, her gaze sweeping over me again, slower this time.
Even as Anthony and I walked past, I could feel her stare. The smile she'd worn earlier? Gone.
I didn't know why, but that surprised me.
My gaze stayed on Anthony's back—his broad torso, the faint sheen of sweat on his arms.
Get a grip, Alicia. You're just a pawn. Nothing more.
The silence in the elevator was stiff. He barely looked at me, and I kept my eyes on the mirrored wall ahead.
I frowned at my reflection.
I don't fit into this world.
"My assistant will be here soon," he announced.
"Huh?" I turned to him.
Still on his iPad.
Look up, for once—will you?
"Hmm." Anthony nodded. "He's going to brief you about our love story."
"Love story?"
What does he mean by that?
"Every couple has one—how they met, their first kiss, favorite wine..." He looked at me, calm but firm. "You must lie well, Alicia."
I frowned. I didn't like this one bit.
"Why? Is that even necessary? I'll only be your fiancée for a year."
Finally, he focused fully on and not his tablet, his brow furrowed. "You must not forget why I need you by my side this year."
Then he grabbed my hand, eyes sweeping over my face.
"Eat something. You look like you're about to pass out."
I yanked my hand back and glared at him. "Well, I'm not a doll," I snapped, heat rising in my chest.
"This isn't the time to be stubborn, Alicia."
He straightened, his voice crisp and commanding. "Henceforth, you must do as I say. No objections."
"Fine," I muttered, looking away.
This is for the six figures. Nothing more. One year, and then I can walk away—from him and his arrogance.
"Good." He stepped back, and I exhaled in relief.
His presence did something strange to me_like it unsettled me and comforted me at once.
The elevator chimed, and we reached his floor.
Now standing in the penthouse, the skyline stretched out behind the glass windows. I couldn't help but stare.
It was perfect. Too perfect.
My gaze drifted across the living room. Mahogany chairs, gleaming tile floors, and a fireplace flickering with fake logs.
Still, the warmth and aesthetic were captivating. I couldn't look away.
A soft shuffle caught my attention. A housekeeper stepped out—an older woman with gray hair and a motherly smile. She bowed slightly.
"Mrs. Blake, your room is ready," she said kindly.
I blinked at the sound of that name. Mrs. Blake?
Why would she call me that? I wasn't married to him, not even close. What had he told her?
I looked around, but Anthony was already gone—he'd disappeared the moment we entered the room.
Forcing a small smile, I said, "Alicia. Please, just call me Alicia."
"Oh no," she replied, shaking her head. "The formalities are necessary. Please come...I'll show you to your room."
I followed her through the quiet hallway, but each step felt heavy. My fists curled at my sides.
So this is it?
I stepped into the room. Everything was already in place. The clothes we'd just bought were neatly arranged in the open wardrobe, their soft fabrics catching the afternoon light. The bed—far larger than mine back home, was dressed in pristine white sheets, and evening sunlight poured in through the wide window, hitting the pillows in a golden stream.
"Anthony?" I asked, turning to the housekeeper.
She offered a warm smile. "Oh, he has his own room—just across from yours. That was his instruction."
She stepped closer and leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. "Though, if you ask me, a couple as young and dashing as you two should be sharing a room... But then"—she straightened with a soft chuckle—"that's up to the both of you."
She bowed again, her tone returning to formality. "Please make yourself comfortable, Mrs. Blake. Dinner will be served shortly."
With that, she turned and walked away, her steps light against the polished floor.
I began pacing slowly around the room, taking in every detail—the clean lines of the furniture, the soft scent of lavender in the air, the wall-length bookshelf perfectly arranged in a single, elegant row.
Then the door opened.
Anthony walked in, holding something draped over his arm. A red dress.
"Get dressed. We leave in an hour. There's a ball tonight."
I blinked.
A ball?
Where? Why?
When I haven't even been his fiance in a day, and I had just moved in.