Forty-eight hours

River 

Rain streaked through the windows of my office, forty floor above London. The city looked the way it always did—profitable, predictable, mine. 

The door opened without a knock. 

“You really need to learn how to knock,” I said, not looking up. 

“You really need to learn how to answer your phone,” Oliver dropped into the chair across my desk like he owned it. “I called you six times.” 

I set my pen down slowly. “I was busy.” 

“You are always busy. It’s your entire personality at this point.” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “Tomorrow. Ten PM. Dinner. I have cleared your schedule for the evening.” 

“Very thoughtful of you.” 

“I do try.” 

“I don’t recall approving that.” 

“You don’t have to. I did it for you.” 

I looked up then, meeting his eyes. Oliver was grinning. 

“Who am I having dinner with?” 

“Your girlfriend.” 

“I don’t recall having one either.” 

“Oh yes you do,” he said nodding. “It's just been two weeks . Don’t tell me that you have forgotten about her.” 

“I have every right to. Judging from the fact that i never approved of her as my  girlfriend.” 

“She would be expecting you tomorrow night at Ember, that restaurant you said you’d never go to.” 

“I never said that.” 

“You said that three years ago, at a poker table when you were drunk. But let’s not go into the details of that. Her name is Zara Hale. She’s Twenty six, educated, smart enough not to ask stupid questions and definitely not going to embarrass us in public.” 

I studied him for a moment. 

“I’m not so sure about that last part though. But she seems perfect. 

“You can’t just be making plans for me, you know that right?” 

“I’m just solving your problem.” 

“And what problem is that?” 

“Your problem is having everyone in London wonder if you are a ghost, an alien. Five years without a public appearance. People are asking questions. You are the CEO for crying out loud. Own it. This fixes everything.” 

I turned to the window, watching the rain slide down the glass. He wasn’t wrong. The board had been circling for months, whispers about why the youngest billionaire in London had become a hermit. 

Speculation was always more dangerous than truth. 

“Did you tell her anything about me?” 

“No,” Oliver paused. “Should I have?” 

“What does she think I look like?” 

“Does it matter?” 

I turned back to him. “Yes.” 

Oliver stood up, pacing now, the restlessness taking over. “Well…everything she needs to know about you is stated in the contract. I told her you were not the romantic type and she seemed to think that was reasonable.” 

“What’s her background?” 

“I don’t really know. And it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t have any family drama, no addiction issues, no criminal record. Boring, actually. Perfectly boring.”

I was quiet for a moment. 

“She didn’t flinch when she signed the contract. Not at the if months and neither at the living arrangements.”

I went still. “What living arrangements?” 

“Yeah ... .i think you forgot to read that part. She will be living with you for six months. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. You can give her the east wing, the entire top floor, whatever you want. But yes, she’s moving in.” 

I turned back at the window, thinking about why that meant. Six months in the same house with a stranger. 

“That changes the dynamic,” I said slowly. “Public appearances does the talking already. Bit living in the same house? That’s proximity.” 

“If you are concerned about her talking about this whole arrangement, you don’t have to be worried about that. She signed an NDA. If she breaches it, the financial penalties are substantial.”

I was already getting fed up at this point and just wanted to punch Oliver in the face. 

“Zara seemed exceptionally unpredictable when we met for the first time. And I think you will find her very interesting. But she is smart enough to follow the rules and desperate enough to keep the money. 

I let out a long breath.”I’ll go.” 

“Brilliant.”

“One condition,” I said quietly. 

“Yeah.” 

“From now on, no more unexpected dates. I choose when and where I want to see her. Let me handle this my own way, because you have done enough.” 

Oliver looked at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Deal. But you have to actually show up tomorrow.” 

“I’ll show up.” 

“And wear something that isn’t black.” 

“Get out of my office.” 

He was halfway to the door when I called him back. “Oliver.” 

“Yes.” 

“Why Ember? You know I hate crowds.” 

He turned back. “Exactly. It’s the most watched restaurant. Perfect first appearance. They’ll have cameras, gossip, and your table will be at the center of the room.” He paused at the door. “By the way, you should probably know her name is Zara with a ‘Z’ and not an ‘S’. She was very specific about that. 

After he left, I sat quiet in my office —-controlled, perfect silence I’d built