11

*Sage’s POV*

I woke up at 6 AM to someone pounding on my door.

For a moment, I forgot where I was-still in my studio apartment, boxes half-packed around me, my phone alarm blaring.

The pounding continued,

“Miss Draven? It’s Marcus Stone, Kael sent me with the movers.”

I stumbled to the door in my pajamas-an oversized t-shirt and shorts-and opened it to find Marcus standing there with three burly men in uniforms.

“It’s six in the morning,” I said.

“Kael wants you moved in before you go to the office.” Marcus’s smile was apologetic. “He’s very… thorough.”

“He’s very bossy.”

“That too.” Marcus gestured to the movers.

“They’ll back everything. You just need to tell them what goes and what stays.”

An hour later, my entire life was loaded into a moving truck. It was depressing how little there was -a few boxes of clothes, some books, kitchen supplies I’d collected from thrift stores.

Everything fit in one truck with room to spare.

Marcus drove me to the penthouse in his car.

“So. You’re really doing this. The contract thing.”

“You know about that?”

“Kael told me last night. Called me at eleven, which is how I knew it was serious.” He glanced at me. “For what it’s worth? I think it’s a good idea.”

“A fake mating is a good idea?”

“A safe mating is a good idea. Fake or not, it keeps you protected.” He pulled into the parking garage of Kael’s building. “And between you and me? I don’t think it’ll stay fake for long.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Kael hasn’t looked at anyone the way he looks at you. Not in the entire time I’ve known him.” Marcus parked in a spot labeled.

“Reserved– Stone.”

“He’s already halfway in love with you. He just doesn’t realize it yet.”

“That’s ridiculous-”

Marcus got out of the to a car.

“The man baked forty-seven muffins because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. That’s not normal behavior for him”

The movers arrived twenty minutes later. Kael was waiting in the penthouse, dressed for work but with his sleeves rolled up.

Miss Ople. His eyes scanned me-still in casual clothes, hair in a messy bun The guest room is ready. Show them where you want everything.”

The next hour was chaos Movers carried boxes, directed traffic like a general commanding troops, and Marcus made coffee in that complicated machine I remembered from my one-night stand

By eight golook everything was unpacked My clothes hung in a walk-in closet bigger than my entre studio, My books sat on built-in shelves.

My few personal items looked lost in the massive bedroom

“It’s too much,” I said, standing in the doorway. Kael appeared behind me.

“It's yours now. Make it feel like home.”

“How? Everything here costs more than I make in a year”

“Then we’ll get you things that feel like you.” He checked his watch.

“We need to leave for the office in thirty minutes. Can you be ready?”

“I need to shower-

“Bathroom’s through there. Towels in the cabinet. Use whatever you need.” He paused.

“And Sage? Thank you. For agreeing to this.”

After he left, I stood in the bathroom-with its less ridiculous chandelier-and tried not to cry.

This was my life now. Living in a penthouse with my boss, carrying his baby, pretending to be his mate.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

*Monday 9:15 AM – Thorne Tower*

Margaret took one look at me and knew immediately.

“You moved in.”

“This morning. Is it that obvious?*

“You’re wearing different perfume. And you have that shell-shocked look people get when they first see Kael’s penthouse.” She handed me ginger tea.

“How are you feeling?”

“Overwhelmed. Nauseous. Terrified.”

“So, normal.” She smiled. “The contract?”

“Being drawn up this week. I’m meeting with an independent lawyer Thursday to review it.”

“Good. Don’t sign anything until you’re completely comfortable.” She glanced at Kael’s closed office door.

“He’s been on the phone since seven. Something about the Meridian acquisition. You should probably check in.”

I knocked on his door. “Come in.”

Kael was at his desk, surrounded by papers, his expression dark.

“The Meridian deal is falling apart. Their CEO is getting cold feet.”

“What do you need?”

“Coffee. Exactly 180 degrees. And pull up everything we have on Meridian’s board members. I need leverage.”

I brought him coffee-180 degrees exactly-and spent the next two hours compiling information.

By noon, Kael had called an emergency meeting with Marcus and the legal team.

“Sage.” He caught me as I was heading to lunch.

“The contract lawyer will be here at two. Her name is Patricia Mills. She’s excellent, completely independent. Trust her.”

“Okay.”

“And eat something. You look pale.”

“I’m fine-”

“You’re pregnant. Eat.” He pressed a twenty into my hand.

“Get something from that café you like.The one with the good sandwiches.”

He remembered which café I liked.

*Monday, 2:00 PM**

Patricia Mills was a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties who reminded me of Margaret-no-nonsense, intelligent, protective.

“Miss Draven.” She shook my hand firmly. “I’ve reviewed the contract Kael’s lawyer drafted.Let’s discuss what this actually means for you.”

We spent two hours going through every clause.

Financial provisions-generous. Living arrangements-clearly defined.

Pack status-full Luna privileges. Exit clauses-fair to both parties.

“It’s actually a good contract,” Patricia said.

“Better than most I’ve seen. You’re protected financially regardless of what happens. And this clause about true mates? That’s unusual. Most contracts like this don’t include an out.”

“Kael insisted on it,”

“That tells me something about him.” Patricia closet the folder.

“He’s not trying to trap you. He’s trying to protect you while giving you freedom.”

“So I should sign it?”

“That’s your decision. But legally? It’s sound. Fair, Probably more generous than you realize.”

She paused. “The real question is; can you live with him for potentially eighteen years?”

I thought about Kael’s stress-baking, his coffee obsession, the way he remembered everything said.

“I think so,”

“Then sign it. But read it one more time first. Make sure you understand everything.”

After she left, I sat at my desk with the contract, reading every word.

This was really happening.

My phone buzzed. A text from Kael: ‘How’d it go with Patricia?’

‘She said it’s fair. More than fair.’

‘Good. Take your time reviewing it. No pressure.’

I stared at that message. No pressure. From the man who controlled billion-dollar deals and intimidated everyone around him.

‘Thank you. For Patricia. For everything.’

His response came immediately: ‘Partners, remember?’

Partners.

I could do partners.

Margaret appeared at my desk. “Go home. You’ve been here since nine, you’re pregnant, and you look exhausted.”

“I still have the Westfield analysis-

“Which can wait until tomorrow. Go home. Rest. Eat something.” She smiled.

“Doctor’s orders. And I have three kids, so I’m basically a doctor.”

“Is Kael-”

“In meetings until seven. He won’t notice you’re gone.” She lowered her voice.

“And between you and me? He texted me earlier asking me to make sure you leave early. So technically, you’re following his orders.”

I grabbed my bag and headed to the elevator.

As the doors closed, I saw Kael emerge from the conference room. Our eyes met for just a moment.

He nodded once. A dismissal. Or maybe permission.

Then the doors closed, and I was heading down to my new life.

–

*Monday, 7:30 PM – The Penthouse*

I was attempting to cook dinner-something simple, pasta and sauce-when Kael walked in.

“You’re cooking.” He sounded surprised.

“I eat food occasionally.” I stirred the sauce.

“There’s enough for two if you’re hungry.”

“You don’t have to cook for me.”

“I’m not. I’m cooking for myself. You just happen to be here.” I paused. “Unless you have plans? Should I have asked first?”

“No plans. And no, you don’t need permission to use the kitchen. This is your home now.”

He loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and moved to the cabinet. “Wine glasses are- actually, you can’t have wine. What do you drink?”

“Water. Sometimes juice.”

He poured himself wine and sparkling water for me.

We ate at the kitchen island in comfortable silence.

“This is good,” he said finally.

“It’s jarred sauce and dried pasta. Don’t be impressed.”

“I’m impressed you figured out the stove. It has seventeen settings.”

“Why does a stove need seventeen settings?”

“I have no idea. I don’t use most of them.” He finished his pasta. “How was Patricia?”

“Thorough. She said the contract is more than fair.

“Are you going to sign it?”

I met his eyes. “Yes. If we can add one more clause

His eyebrows rose. “What clause?”

“That we try to be friends. Real friends. Not just partners raising a kid.” I set down my fork.

“Because if we’re going to live together for eighteen years, I’d like to actually like you. And I’d like you to like me.”

Something shifted in his expression. Softened.

“I already like you, Rice.”

“Then put it in the contract. Friendship. Respect. Actually enjoying each other’s company.”

“Alright.” He pulled out his phone, typed something I’ll have my lawyer add it tomorrow.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He stood, collecting the dishes.

“Now go rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“I can clean-”

“I’ve got it. Go.”

I headed to my room, but paused in the doorway.

“Kael?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For making this less terrible than it could be.”

His smile was small but genuine. “That’s what partners do.”