Chapter 6

Ethan Cross's penthouse occupied the top three floors of a glass tower on the Upper East Side, the kind of building where the doormen wore white gloves and knew every resident's net worth. Sophia stood in the marble lobby, clutching her mother's hand, feeling like an imposter in designer clothing.

The shopping trip that morning had been surreal. Ethan's personal stylist, a sharp-eyed woman named Victoria, had descended on Sophia with military precision, transforming her from struggling event planner to billionaire's fiancée in the span of four hours. The cream colored cashmere dress she now wore probably cost more than her last three paychecks combined.

"Miss Martinez?" The concierge approached with a practiced smile. "Mr. Cross is expecting you. The private elevator is this way."

The elevator required a key card and rose so smoothly Sophia barely felt the movement. When the doors opened, they stepped directly into the penthouse foyer, where Ethan was waiting.

He'd changed from his business suit into dark jeans and a charcoal sweater that made his eyes look like storm clouds. The casual clothes should have made him seem more approachable, but somehow they only emphasized the lean power of his body, the predatory grace in the way he moved.

"Welcome home," he said, and something about the way he said 'home' made Sophia's pulse skip.

The penthouse was a study in understated luxury floor to ceiling windows offering breathtaking views of Central Park, modern furniture in muted tones, art that probably belonged in museums. Everything was perfect, expensive, and completely impersonal.

"It's beautiful," Elena said, accepting Ethan's offered arm as he led them on a tour.

"The guest suite is through here," Ethan said, guiding them down a hallway lined with original photographs. "I've had medical equipment installed and arranged for a nurse to be on call twenty-four hours."

The guest suite was larger than Sophia's entire apartment, with a hospital grade bed, monitoring equipment, and a sitting area that overlooked the park. But it was the personal touches that caught Sophia off guard fresh flowers, Elena's favorite books arranged on the nightstand, even a framed photo of Sophia and her mother from happier times.

"How did you" Sophia started.

"Research," Ethan said simply. "I told you I'm thorough."

Elena settled into a chair by the window, her face brighter than Sophia had seen it in months. "The view is magnificent."

"I thought you'd appreciate it." Ethan's voice was gentler when he spoke to Elena, and Sophia realized he was making an effort to put her mother at ease. "There's a terrace garden on this level if you feel up to sitting outside. The nurse will be here within the hour to help you get settled."

As they continued the tour, Sophia tried to process the magnitude of their new living situation. The kitchen was a chef's dream, the living room could have hosted a small wedding, and the home office was larger than most people's entire apartments.

"Your room is here," Ethan said, opening a door to reveal a bedroom that took her breath away. Cream walls, silk curtains, a four-poster bed that looked like something from a fairy tale. French doors opened onto a private balcony with views that stretched for miles.

"And yours?" she asked.

His smile was enigmatic. "Next door. We share a bathroom."

Of course they did. Because apparently the universe had a sense of humor.

The bathroom in question was a marble-and-glass temple with a soaking tub large enough for two and a shower that could accommodate a small party. Very intimate for two people who were supposed to be keeping things professional.

"The closet is through there," Ethan said, nodding toward another door. "Victoria had everything delivered this afternoon."

Sophia stepped into what could only be described as a boutique. Rows of designer clothes in her exact size, shoes arranged like artwork, jewelry glittering under perfect lighting. Everything she could possibly need to play the role of Ethan Cross's fiancée.

"This is too much," she said.

"It's necessary. You'll need appropriate clothing for the events we'll be attending."

"Events?"

"Gallery openings, charity galas, business dinners. The social calendar of Manhattan's elite is surprisingly demanding." He moved closer, and she caught that familiar scent of expensive cologne and something uniquely him. "Think of it as a costume. The beautiful, accomplished woman who captured the heart of the city's most eligible bachelor."

"And what's your costume?"

"A man in love." His voice was soft, but there was something in his eyes that made her wonder if it was entirely an act.

Before she could analyze that thought further, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his expression hardened.

"Excuse me. I need to take this." He stepped onto the balcony, his voice carrying through the glass doors. "What do you mean the Tokyo deal is stalled?"

Sophia used the privacy to explore her new room, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that this was her life now. Six months of living in luxury, playing house with a man who made her pulse race and her common sense evaporate.

Her own phone buzzed with a text from her best friend Mia: *Girl, where are you? Your apartment building manager said you moved out today??*

Sophia stared at the screen, unsure how to explain. She'd told Mia she was taking a temporary live-in position with a client, but the full truth was bound by that ironclad NDA.

*New job. Can't really talk about it, but I'm fine. Will call you soon.*

This is so mysterious! Are you secretly working for the CIA now?*

If only it were that simple.

"Problem?" Ethan had finished his call and was watching her with those penetrating gray eyes.

"Just explaining my sudden disappearance to friends."

"What did you tell them?"

"That I'm working for someone who values discretion."

"Good. The less people know about the real nature of our arrangement, the better." He moved to the window, his expression distant. "We'll need to establish some ground rules for living together."

"Such as?"

"I work late, often from home. I'll try not to disturb you, but sometimes I have calls with international clients at odd hours."

"That's fine."

"I exercise every morning at six. The gym is on the second floor if you'd like to join me."

The thought of working out with Ethan, watching him move with that controlled power, was both appealing and dangerous. "I'll keep that in mind."

"And I have a standing rule about the kitchen."

"Which is?"

"Don't touch anything. I have a chef who comes in daily, and everything is arranged to his specifications."

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "I'm not allowed to cook?"

"Can you cook?"

"I've been taking care of my mother and myself for five years. Of course I can cook."

Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of genuine curiosity. "What do you make?"

"Whatever's on sale at the grocery store," she said honestly. "I'm excellent at turning cheap ingredients into something edible."

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me what you can make. Tonight." He moved closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "Consider it your first performance as my devoted fiancée. Cooking for your man."

The way he said 'your man' sent heat spiraling through her stomach. "Is that really necessary?"

"We need to practice being a couple. Might as well start with something domestic."

Before she could argue, Elena's voice called from the living room. "Sophia? The nurse is here."

They spent the next hour getting Elena settled with her new caregiver, a warm woman named Janet who had twenty years of experience with terminal patients. Watching her mother laugh at something Janet said, seeing color in her cheeks for the first time in weeks, Sophia felt a wave of gratitude toward Ethan that nearly brought her to tears.

"She looks better already," he said quietly, appearing at her side.

"The stress of worrying about money was killing her almost as much as the cancer."

"And now she doesn't have to worry."

Sophia turned to look at him, studying his profile as he watched Elena. "Why are you being so kind to her?"

"Because she raised the woman who's going to help me destroy my enemies."

The words should have sounded cold, calculating. Instead, there was something almost tender in his voice that made Sophia's chest tight.

"Is that all I am to you? A weapon?"

He turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Ask me again in six months."

An hour later, Sophia found herself in Ethan's spectacular kitchen, rummaging through a refrigerator stocked with ingredients that probably cost more than her old weekly grocery budget. She'd found pasta, fresh herbs, and vegetables that looked like they'd been harvested that morning.

Ethan sat at the kitchen island, watching her work with an intensity that made her hands shake slightly as she chopped garlic.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"About cooking? No. About you watching me like I'm a lab experiment? Yes."

His laugh was rich and warm. "I'm just curious. I've never had anyone cook for me in this kitchen."

"What about your chef?"

"He cooks for me. There's a difference."

Sophia added the garlic to the hot olive oil, the familiar sizzle and aroma helping her relax. Cooking had always been her meditation, the one place where she felt completely in control.

"Tell me about Isabella," she said as she added wine to the pan.

Ethan's expression darkened. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you meet?"

"Charity gala. She was there with her father, I was there representing mine. We were twenty-five, ambitious, and completely wrong for each other."

"But you got engaged."

"Business merger disguised as a love match. Our families thought it would be advantageous." His voice was bitter. "Turns out Isabella agreed."

Sophia added the pasta to the boiling water, turning to study his face. "Did you love her?"

"I thought I did. Or maybe I loved the idea of her beautiful, sophisticated, the perfect woman to stand beside me as I built an empire."

"What changed?"

"My father's company collapsed. Overnight, I went from heir to a fortune to the son of a man who'd lost everything through bad investments and worse judgment." His hands clenched into fists on the counter. "Isabella waited exactly twenty four hours before returning my ring and announcing her engagement to Harrison Blackwell."

"That must have hurt."

"It was educational. I learned that love is just another transaction, and everyone has a price."

Sophia drained the pasta, her heart aching for the younger version of Ethan who'd learned that lesson the hard way. "Not everyone."

"No? What's your price, Sophia? Because if I remember correctly, you're here for five million dollars."

The words stung because they were true. But they were also incomplete.

"You're right," she said, plating the pasta with more force than necessary. "I am here for the money. But that's not all I'm here for."

"What else?"

She set the plate in front of him, their fingers brushing as he reached for it. The contact sent electricity shooting up her arm, and she saw his pupils dilate in response.

"I'm here because for the first time in five years, someone is looking at me like I'm worth something more than pity or contempt. I'm here because you make me feel alive again." She met his gaze steadily. "And I'm here because I think underneath all that anger and cynicism, there's still a part of you that wants to believe in something real."

Ethan stared at her for a long moment, then took a bite of the pasta. His eyes closed briefly in appreciation.

"This is incredible."

"It's just pasta."

"It's perfect." He took another bite, his expression thoughtful. "You're dangerous, you know that?"

"Why?"

"Because you make me want to believe you." He set down his fork and moved around the island until he was standing directly in front of her. "And belief is a luxury I can't afford."

They were standing so close she could see the flecks of silver in his gray eyes, could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Her pulse hammered against her throat as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Ethan"

"This is what I was talking about," he said softly. "This thing between us. It's going to make everything more complicated."

"It doesn't have to be."

"Doesn't it?" His thumb traced along her cheekbone, and she had to fight not to lean into the touch. "You're already under my skin, Sophia. Six months of this and I might forget that this is just business."

"Would that be so terrible?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. His gaze dropped to her lips, his head tilting slightly as he moved closer. But then he seemed to catch himself, stepping back with a sharp exhale.

"Yes," he said firmly. "It would be terrible. For both of us."

The rejection stung, but Sophia forced herself to nod. "You're right. This is just business."

"Just business," he agreed, but his voice lacked conviction.

As they finished dinner in carefully maintained distance, Sophia couldn't help but think that Ethan Cross was lying to himself as much as he was lying to her.

The man who'd tenderly arranged her mother's room, who'd watched her cook with wonder in his eyes, who'd looked at her like she was something precious that man was capable of so much more than business.

The question was whether she'd be brave enough to prove it to him.

And whether her heart would survive the attempt.