The Penthouse

Aria only had one suitcase. In the apartment she shared with two roommates, she sat on her small bed and gazed at the open luggage as if it could provide answers. Her phone buzzed. What did you bring when you moved into your unintentional husband's penthouse? Business casual, pyjamas, a weapon? An unknown number sent a text. In twenty minutes, the car will arrive.

Be ready 2PM, type yes if you are seeing this." Just an order.

Without checking, Aria tossed clothes into the suitcase. Pants. Sweaters. The lovely blouse she wore during her job interview. Underwear that was undoubtedly intended only for her eyes. She reached for her phone charger, laptop, and the little wooden box containing her grandmother's only pictures.

After nineteen minutes, she watched a black Mercedes pull up to the curb while holding her pitiful suitcase on the sidewalk. Another vehicle. Same motorist. He gave her a nod, picked up her bag as if it were light, and held the door open.

"Miss Hale." Apparently, it's now Mrs Mercer. She didn't like the taste of the words. The driver's face remained the same. Naturally, ma'am. "It seemed strange to drive through Manhattan. The streets were clogged with evening traffic, but the Mercedes managed to get through every time. 

They went by eateries that Aria had never been able to afford, shops that she had only perused from the window, and a lifestyle that existed in parallel to hers but never came into contact with.

Until now.

Aria recognized the building from architecture magazines as the car pulled into an underground garage. The highest point. Starting at fifteen million dollars, luxury condos are available. She had once estimated that to pay the down payment, she would need to work for 200 years. "This way, ma'am. The driver guided her to a private elevator that required a key card. He swiped his, hit the penthouse button, and took a step back.

"Mr Mercer is expecting you. Before Aria could inquire as to whether that was a warning or just basic information, the doors closed. The elevator ascended. Aria attempted to slow her heartbeat as she watched the numbers rise.

This was temporary. For six months, she could survive anything. The penthouse was directly accessible from the elevator. When Aria went outside, she lost her breath. Three sides of the room were filled with floor-to-ceiling windows that provided movie-quality views of Manhattan.

As the sunset painted the sky pink and orange, lights started to twinkle in the sprawling city below. White marble floors, contemporary furniture in grey and black tones, and artwork that was likely worth more than her college degree were all part of the interior's elegant design. 

It was lovely. It was chilly. It didn't feel like home at all. "You're late. "Aria whirled around. Still wearing his earlier suit, but with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, Leon stood in the doorway of what appeared to be the kitchen. He seemed to belong in a magazine spread about strong men and their ideal lives, even in casual settings.

"The text said twenty minutes. I was ready at nineteen."

Traffic isn't an excuse. He didn't even look at her suitcase as he walked past her and toward the windows. "Down that hallway is your room. On the right, the third door. The last door is my room. Keep out of it. "I had no intention of going to your bedroom.

"Okay. He used the bar cart by the windows to pour himself a drink. Didn't give her one, though. "There is food in the kitchen. Give yourself anything you desire. Tuesdays and Fridays are when my housekeeper comes. If you put your laundry in the hamper, she will take care of it. Aria blinked.

"You have someone do your laundry?" "You don't?" "I use a washing machine like a normal person." Leon's eyes cut to her. "You're not a normal person anymore. You're married to me. That comes with certain... adjustments."

The way he said "married" made it sound like a prison sentence. "What else do I need to know?" Aria asked. "Any other rules? Curfews? Off-limits areas?" "Don't touch anything in my office. Don't answer the door without checking with me first. Don't bring anyone here without permission." "Anyone?" "Friends. Family. Lovers. Whatever."

He had a long sip. "I own this house. You're not a roommate; you're here as a necessity. "Every word fell like a tiny cut. Aria silently took them in, just as she had learned to take in her sister's casual cruelty and her mother's criticisms. "I see. I'm unwelcome cargo occupying space. "At last, we understand one another. 

Leon ignored her and turned back to the windows. Grabbing her suitcase, Aria wheeled it down the corridor he had pointed out. It was a huge penthouse. Before reaching her designated bedroom, she passed a home gym, an office with more books than her neighbourhood library, and what appeared to be a media room. She stopped after pushing open the door.

The space was larger than her whole present apartment. The room was dominated by a king-size bed with white linens that most likely cost more than her rent each month. Views of Central Park were provided by additional floor-to-ceiling windows. A whole wall of built-in closets was vacant and unoccupied. 

The attached bathroom featured a glass-enclosed shower with roughly seventeen shower heads in addition to a soaking tub. It was flawless. It was isolating. Aria unzipped her suitcase after placing it on the bed. Spread across all that pricey white fabric, her meagre possessions appeared pitiful. Three pairs of jeans. Five sweaters.

Two sets of shoes. A strip of duct tape held her three-year-old laptop together. Her life was like this. Tiny. Unforgettable. Simple to fit into a single suitcase. She had always told herself that she didn't give a damn about things, money, or status. However, Aria felt the distance between her world and Leon's world yawn open like a chasm as she stood in this room that cost more than all of her possessions put together.

It makes sense why he believed she was after his money. She jumped when she heard a knock on the doorframe. What more could someone like her want from someone like him? Leon was standing there with an unreadable expression. "I'm placing a dinner order. In response, Aria's stomach growled, "What do you want?" Since breakfast, she had not eaten. "I don't have any preferences. That is not an answer.

"Whatever you're eating is acceptable. Leon's jaw clenched. I am having sushi masa. The cost of the omakase is approximately $400 per person. "Are you still okay?" Aria's face heated up. "I'll prepare a sandwich. "Stop being absurd. "I'm not being unreasonable. I'm being realistic. Four hundred dollars' worth of sushi is beyond my means. You don't have to pay for it. Yes, I am. "I'm not interested in your charity. It's not charity. It's dinner. 

Leon studied her with those piercing grey eyes as he leaned against the doorframe. "Aria, you'll need to adjust to this. You'll eat what I eat, dress appropriately for someone in my social circle, and go to events that I go to while you're here. That's the agreement.

"I was supposed to pretend to be a loyal wife in public. You made no mention of altering my private identity. "Your public persona is influenced by your private identity. He moved away from the doorframe. "My assistant will take you shopping tomorrow. You will require the proper clothing for the benefit gala next week."

"I have clothes." "You have..."

Something flickered across Leon's face as his gaze swept over her open suitcase. Surprise? Pity? Before she could recognise it, it disappeared. "You'll need something suitable. "I am not your dress-up doll. "No. You are my wife. Additionally, my spouse must appear as though she is a part of my family rather than as if she came in from a thrift store at college.

"He delivered the insult as intended. To keep him from seeing how much it hurt, Aria turned away and busied herself with unpacking. "I'll dress in what I own. Perhaps you shouldn't invite me to your fancy parties if that makes you feel uncomfortable. "Quiet. Then footsteps, getting closer rather than farther away.

Leon stopped right behind her.

She was close enough to smell his expensive, woodsy cologne once more, which most likely had a pretentious name like "Midnight in the Alps" or something equally absurd. "Look at me. "Aria continued to watch her suitcase. "I'm busy. Aria. "He lowered his voice.

Not quite gentle, but less sharp. "Look at me." She turned. Mistake.

This room felt much smaller than it had just moments before, and he was too close. "I'm not trying to insult you," Leon stated. "I'm attempting to get you ready for what you're about to walk into. These individuals—the ones at dinner parties, galas, and benefits—are sharks. 

Anyone who exhibits weakness will be torn apart by them. And wearing a fifty-dollar dress when everyone else is dressed in designer gowns? That's a sign of weakness. "I should therefore act like someone I'm not. "You ought to defend yourself. His gaze swept over her face. "I don't want to see you humiliated, whether you believe me or not. 

"Just controlled." "Guided," he corrected.

"There's a difference." "Not from where I'm standing." Leon exhaled, a sound caught between frustration and something else. "You're stubborn." "You're arrogant." "I'm realistic." "You're impossible." A smile touched his lips. Just a flicker, gone so fast, Aria wondered if she'd imagined it. "Get settled. Dinner will be here in forty minutes. We'll eat in the dining room.

Try to look..." He trailed off. "Like I belong here?" Aria finished. "Like I'm not an unwanted accident you're stuck with?" The smile vanished completely. "Like my wife." He left, and Aria sank onto the bed, her legs suddenly shaky. This was going to be impossible.

Forty minutes later, Aria was standing in the doorway of the dining room, wearing a clean sweater and her finest jeans after taking a shower. Her hair hung in waves past her shoulders, still damp. She had been too shaken to bother applying makeup.

A table that could easily accommodate twelve people already had Leon seated at its head. He had changed into a charcoal cashmere sweater that likely cost more than her entire closet, along with dark slacks. His hair remained wet as well. To get ready for this weird, forced domesticity, they had both taken showers in their separate bathrooms. "Take a seat. He pointed to the chair on his right, not the opposite end of the table.

Close enough to talk. Aria sat. The sushi was already arranged on exquisite ceramic dishes with flawless, artistic-looking fish. She was at a loss for what to do. Leon noticed her hesitation. "Have you had omakase before?" "I've had sushi from the grocery store. It's not sushi. 

That is not sushi. He picked up his chopsticks with ease, the result of practice. "Work your way up to the richer flavours, starting with the lighter fish, like this. He gave an example, and Aria attempted to imitate him. At best, she had mediocre chopstick skills. 

She carefully lifted a piece of what appeared to be tuna that she had managed to grab. and— It fell, right onto the white tablecloth. Aria's face burned. "Sorry. I'll clean—"Leave it." Leon's voice was firm but not harsh. "Try again." "I'm terrible with chopsticks." "Then practice." He slid a piece onto her plate using his own chopsticks.

"Use your fingers if necessary. It isn't a crime. "Aria used her fingers to pick up the sushi, feeling like a savage. However, as soon as she bit into it, a buttery, fresh flavour that was unlike anything she had ever tasted exploded across her tongue. "Yes.

She didn't have time to stop the sound. Leon's expression changed. "Excellent?" "Yes. Aria was having trouble speaking. "It's perfect. "Better than a sandwich?" she asked, glaring at him. Don't be arrogant. "I'm not being smug. I'm telling the truth. There's a difference. "Aria's mouth twitched despite everything. "You are still impossible. You're still stubborn. "He took another piece. "But you were right about one thing.

"What?"

"I'm just as much to blame as you are. Across the table, Leon's eyes locked with hers. "I ought to have examined the documents. When you attempted to explain, I ought to have paid attention. I took it out on you because I was rushing and upset about the entire arrangement. Halfway to her mouth, Aria's chopsticks froze. Did Leon Mercer truly offer an apology? "That doesn't mean I think you're innocent in all this," he went on.

However, I'm prepared to acknowledge that I also made mistakes. "The apology wasn't flawless. It came with qualifications and conditions.

However, it went beyond what Aria had anticipated from him. "Thank you," she murmured. "For saying that. Leon gave a single nod before returning to his meal. For a few minutes, they ate in silence. It should have been uncomfortable, but for some reason it wasn't. The food was too delicious. 

The view outside the windows is simply breathtaking. Even if the other person was a stranger she had unintentionally married, there was something almost serene about eating with them. Aria put down her chopsticks and said, "Can I ask you something?" "It depends on the question. "I believe you didn't even know Ariana, so why did you consent to marry her? "Leon's face tightened.

"It was a business arrangement. Her father's company needed capital. My company needed the merger.

The easiest way to ensure both was through marriage. "I've never heard anything so unromantic." Romance is reserved for those who can afford to act foolishly. "His tone became icy.

"I tried romance once. It nearly destroyed everything I built." Vanessa. He was talking about Vanessa. "Not everyone is like her," Aria said softly. "No. Some people are worse." Leon's eyes found hers. "They pretend to be innocent. They make you think they're different. And then they take everything." The accusation hung between them.

"I'm not taking anything from you," Aria declared. "All I want is to make it through the next six months and regain my life. Leon reclined in his chair and asked, "What life?" "The one where you run errands for a sister who doesn't appreciate you, wear clothes from thrift stores, and share an apartment with roommates?"

"That's my life." It's real. It is genuine. It's small. "Compared to his previous insults, this one struck her more forcefully. Because there was a part of her that, despite her best efforts to ignore it, agreed with him.

Her life was small. Safe. Invisible.

As she had always been. According to Aria, "not everyone needs a penthouse and a seven-figure bank account to be happy." "No. However, everyone has the right to be more than a doormat. She was immobilized by Leon's stare. "You are treated as though you are invisible by your family.

Your sister abandons you to deal with her messes. And you just... accept it. Why?" "You don't know anything about my family." "I know you came alone to deliver wedding documents for a sister who didn't bother to show up. I know you have one suitcase of belongings. I know you apologize for existing." He leaned forward. "I know someone taught you that you don't matter. And I want to know why you believed them." Aria's throat tightened. How did he see so much?

"Because it was easier than fighting," she muttered. "How did he look at her for one day and understand things she'd spent years trying to hide?" "Because perhaps they would love me at last if I made myself small enough. "The admission lingered between them. Leon's face softened.

Just barely. Just enough. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he said. But his voice was gentle. "People don't love you more when you're small. They just take up more space." Aria blinked back tears she refused to let fall. "Then what do you suggest?" "Take up space." Leon picked up his glass. "Be loud. Be inconvenient. It would be impossible to ignore." "Like you?" "Like someone who knows her worth."

He drank. "Even if that person is now unintentionally married to a man who finds her intolerable. "Aria laughed despite everything, including the terrible day and the tears that were welling up in her eyes. Unexpected and somewhat hysterical, it exploded out of her. Leon gazed at her as if she had gone insane. Which increased her laughter.

"What's funny?" "This." Aria wiped her eyes. "All of this. We're complete strangers having marriage counseling over four-hundred-dollar sushi in a penthouse that costs more than my hometown. It's absurd." Leon's lips twitched. "It's definitely not how I planned to spend my evening." "Me neither."

Unashamed, Aria picked up another piece of sushi with her fingers. However, I must say that the food makes it a little less awful. Highly commendable. Keep it from getting to your head. "When they were done eating, Leon didn't make her feel bad about using her fingers, or choosing the incorrect pieces, or not knowing how to eat ginger correctly. They stood awkwardly in the dining room after he called his housekeeper to clean up. "Well," replied Aria.

"Thanks for dinner. It was... educational."

Marcus will deliver documents for you to sign tomorrow morning. Confidentiality clauses, prenuptial agreements, the usual.

Right. Back to business. Back to reality. "Of course," replied Aria. "I don't want anyone to believe that this is true. Leon's face flickered with something. It has nothing to do with that. It's about keeping us both safe. Yes. Aria made her way to her room. "Goodnight, Leon." "Aria."

She paused and turned around. "For what it's worth. Leon stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You made it through today. Strength is required for that. It was the closest thing to a compliment he had offered her. Like a lifeline, Aria clung to it. "See you in the morning," she said. She shut herself off in her lovely, solitary room and allowed herself to cry at last.

Not because Leon was cruel. But because, for just a moment at dinner, he'd been kind. And somehow, that was so much worse.