"Kace—"
She holds up a hand, silencing me without breaking eye contact with Asher. "Listen, Asher. I don't care how much money you have or what kind of penthouse you live in. Grace is the kindest, most genuine person I know. And if you hurt her, if you make her feel small, or replaceable, or like she's some kind of project, I will make your life a living hell."
My stomach drops. Sweat prickles at my hairline.
Asher studies her for another long moment. Then, something shifts in his expression. Not warmth, exactly. But... respect?
"Noted."
"Good." Kacey finally steps back, satisfied. "Now give me a tour. I need to make sure my bestie is going to be safe here."
"Okay!" I practically shout, wedging myself between them. My laugh comes out strangled. "Great. This is great. Everyone's... meeting. And threatening. Very normal pre-marriage stuff."
Asher gives us the grand tour of the place. I haven’t seen more than the living and dining room, but he takes us to the kitchen with its expanse of wood cabinets and Italian marble countertops. He has an office and a home gym on the main floor, and there’s a patio that looks out over the city, where I imagine myself curled up in one of the loungers, reading a book. We don’t step outside since it’s freezing, but I know it’ll be my favorite place once the cold breaks.
After the tour, Kacey leaves me at the elevator with a long hug and a whispered, “I’m here if you need anything.”
I tell her I’ll be fine and watch as the doors close.
“You can pick any room on the second floor, except the one at the end of the hall,” Asher says once she’s gone. He was perfectly nice to Kacey the entire time she was here, and if he suspected that I told her the truth, he didn’t say a thing.
“What’s the one at the end of the hall?”
“It’s mine,” he says, then smirks. “Unless you’d like to share a room. In which case?—”
“No,” I interrupt him, and then I scurry away to the stairs to assess my choices.
I’m not sure why, but the idea of sharing a room sent a tingle down my spine. Maybe it was the way he said it, the tone of his voice deepening with unsaid promises. But this is fake—at least that’s what I have to keep reminding myself.
There are two other doors when I reach the top of the stairs. I choose the first one, finding a queen bed with a pale-blue duvet and white furniture. There’s an ensuite bathroom with a huge shower. Plus, it’s the farthest from Asher’s room.
When I turn to go back downstairs for my bags, Asher is behind me with my bag.
“Good choice,” he tells me, leaving them at the end of the bed. We stand there for a moment, awkwardly staring. Two people who clearly don’t know each other. And then he nods and exits, leaving me alone.
How hard can it be to live in this beautiful room in this beautiful penthouse for one year?
8
GRACE
Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, startling me when I wake up in Asher's guest room. Or my room now, I guess.
The day before comes back in a wave of memories. Moving out of my apartment. Kacey threatening Asher, and then hiding out in my chosen room for most of the evening. There’s a part of me that thinks this must all be a dream. But I’m laying on the softest sheets I’ve ever felt in a room that’s twice the size of mine, with furniture that probably costs a year's worth of rent.
My phone chimes on the nightstand, breaking me out of my spiral.
Asher
You were still sleeping when I left this morning. We have engagement photos this afternoon in Central Park. Lisette will show you to the spa for treatments, and my stylist, Vivian, will be there at 11 with your new wardrobe.
That’s it. Nohave a great day!Orcan’t wait to see you!But why would he say these things?
I scrub a hand over my face.
What did I get myself into?
I need to align my expectations. Why would Iwanthim to say those things? If I want this to work for the next year, it’s best if we keep things as professional as possible.
