Chapter 8

The next morning, Sophia woke to find the New York Times society pages spread across the kitchen counter, along with three other newspapers and a tablet displaying various gossip websites. All featured the same image: her and Ethan on the museum steps, looking every inch the perfect couple.

"ETHAN CROSS'S MYSTERY WOMAN REVEALED" read one headline. "MANHATTAN'S HOTTEST NEW POWER COUPLE" declared another.

"Morning, darling," Ethan said, appearing with two cups of coffee. He looked disgustingly well-rested for someone who'd been out until nearly midnight. "Sleep well?"

"Like a baby," she lied, accepting the coffee gratefully. The truth was she'd spent most of the night replaying every moment of their evening together, analyzing every word, every touch, every look. "I see we made the news."

"Victoria's already fielded twelve interview requests. I told her to decline them all." He sat across from her at the breakfast bar, looking casual in jeans and a sweater. "How do you feel about being Manhattan's newest 'It girl'?"

"Terrified," she admitted. "What if someone digs deeper? What if they find out about the contract, about my mother's medical bills..."

"They won't." His voice was certain. "I've already had my security team scrub any digital traces that might raise questions. As far as the world knows, Sophia Martinez is exactly who she appears to be."

"But what if...."

"Sophia." He reached across the counter, covering her hand with his. "Trust me. I've been doing this a long time. I know how to control the narrative."

The warmth of his touch sent electricity up her arm, and she found herself staring at their joined hands. His fingers were long and elegant, scarred slightly on the knuckles from some long-ago accident. She wondered what other scars he carried, what other stories his body could tell.

"We need to talk about next steps," he said, seemingly unaware of the effect his touch was having on her.

"Next steps?"

"Isabella's engagement party is next week. That's when we'll really be in the lion's den." He released her hand to flip through the newspapers. "Harrison Blackwell will be there, along with everyone else who matters. We need to be absolutely convincing."

"More convincing than last night?"

"Last night was the easy part. Tonight was about making an impression, showing the world that I've moved on. Next week is about proving that what we have is real." His gray eyes found hers. "Are you ready for that?"

She thought about the way he'd held her while they danced, the way he'd looked at her like she was the only woman in the room. The way her heart had raced when he'd called her his fiancée in front of Isabella.

"I think so."

"Good. Because starting today, we're going to be seen everywhere together. Lunch dates, gallery openings, charity functions. We need to be the couple that everyone's talking about."

"What about work? I can't just abandon my clients."

"You don't have to. In fact, it would be better if you didn't. A woman with her own successful business is much more interesting than someone who just lives off her fiancée's money." He pulled out his phone. "I've already arranged for Marcus to help with any events that might conflict with our schedule."

"Marcus?"

"My assistant. He's very good at making things happen." Ethan's smile was slight. "Consider it my engagement present to you."

The word 'engagement' sent a little thrill through her chest, even though she knew it was all pretend. "What about a ring?"

"What about it?"

"Engaged women usually wear rings. People will notice if I don't have one."

"Already handled." He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket, setting it on the counter between them. "I had this made yesterday."

Sophia stared at the box, her heart hammering. "Yesterday? But we didn't decide to announce the engagement until"

"Until last night, I know. But I've been thinking about it since the gala was announced. Isabella will be there, showing off her new fiancée. I wanted to make sure we had the upper hand."

With trembling fingers, she opened the box. Inside was the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen: a stunning sapphire surrounded by diamonds, set in platinum. It was elegant and timeless, exactly what she would have chosen for herself if she'd been shopping for a real engagement ring.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"It matches your eyes." He took the ring from the box, holding it between them. "May I?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. He slipped the ring onto her finger, and it fit perfectly, as if it had been made for her hand specifically. Which, she realized, it probably had been.

"How did you know my size?"

"I have my ways." His smile was mysterious. "Do you like it?"

"It's perfect." She held up her hand, watching the sapphire catch the morning light. "But Ethan, this must have cost alot....."

"Don't worry about the cost. Worry about wearing it like you mean it." His voice was soft, intimate. "Can you do that?"

Looking at the ring, feeling its weight on her finger, Sophia found it surprisingly easy to imagine that it was real. That this beautiful, complicated man had chosen her, proposed to her, wanted to spend his life with her.

"I think so."

"Good. Because our first official appearance as an engaged couple is tomorrow night. The Whitney is having a private viewing of their new contemporary collection, and we're going to be there."

"Tomorrow? But I don't have anything to wear, and I need to check on my mother, and"

"All taken care of. Victoria will be here at three tomorrow to help you get ready. I've arranged for a nurse to stay with your mother during the day so you don't have to worry about her care. And as for clothes..." He gestured toward the hallway. "Check your closet."

Curious, Sophia made her way to her bedroom, Ethan following behind. When she opened her closet, she gasped. The entire space had been transformed. Where once there had been her modest collection of work clothes and casual wear, now there were dozens of designer dresses, suits, and gowns. Shoes lined the bottom shelves, and jewelry boxes sat neatly arranged on the upper shelves.

"Ethan, this is too much."

"It's necessary. You're going to be photographed everywhere we go. You need to look the part."

"But I can't accept all this. It's too expensive, too..." She turned to face him, overwhelmed by the generosity and the implications. "I'm not a kept woman."

"No," he agreed, stepping closer. "You're not. You're a successful businesswoman who happens to be engaged to a man who can afford to buy you nice things. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Yes." He reached out, his fingers grazing her cheek. "One implies ownership. The other implies partnership."

The touch was so gentle, so unexpected, that Sophia found herself leaning into it. "What are we doing, Ethan?"

"I'm not sure anymore." His voice was rough, honest. "I thought I knew, but you keep surprising me."

"How?"

"Last night, watching you navigate that room, seeing how you handled Isabella, the way you made everyone believe that what we have is real..." He paused, searching for words. "I've never seen anything like it. You were magnificent."

"I was terrified."

"You were perfect." His thumb traced across her cheekbone. "And when you looked at me like that, when you smiled at me like you actually..."

"Like I actually what?"

"Like you actually cared about me. Not my money, not my reputation, not what I could do for you. Just me."

The confession hung between them, raw and vulnerable. Sophia felt her heart racing, her breath catching in her throat. This was dangerous territory, far beyond the boundaries of their arrangement.

"Ethan..."

"I know." He dropped his hand, stepping back. "I know this is just business. I know you're doing this for your mother, and I'm doing this for revenge. But sometimes, when you look at me like that, I forget."

"Forget what?"

"That none of this is real."

The words hit her like a physical blow, because the truth was, she'd been forgetting too. Standing in her transformed closet, wearing his ring, feeling his touch, it was easy to pretend that this was her life, that he was really hers.

"We should probably keep some boundaries," she said quietly.

"Probably." But he didn't move away.

"Clear lines between what's real and what's for show."

"Absolutely."

They stood there for a long moment, neither of them moving, the air between them charged with possibility. Sophia could feel the pull of him, the magnetic attraction that had been building since the moment they'd signed their contract. It would be so easy to close the distance between them, to see what would happen if they stopped pretending.

"I should go," he said finally. "I have a conference call in twenty minutes."

"Of course."

"But Sophia?" He paused in the doorway. "Thank you. For last night, for all of this. I know it can't be easy, and I want you to know that I appreciate what you're doing."

After he left, Sophia sank onto her bed, her head spinning. She looked down at the ring on her finger, at the closet full of designer clothes, at the evidence of a life she'd never imagined for herself.

Three weeks ago, she'd been a struggling event planner drowning in medical bills and desperate for a solution. Now she was wearing a sapphire that probably cost more than her annual salary, living in a penthouse on the Upper East Side, and pretending to be engaged to one of the most powerful men in New York.

The problem was, it was getting harder and harder to remember that she was pretending.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Victoria: "Saw the photos. You two look perfect together. Can't wait to see what you wear to the Whitney tomorrow night. PS - that ring is gorgeous!"

Another text, this one from her friend Maya: "HOLY SHIT SOPHIA. YOU'RE ENGAGED TO ETHAN CROSS??? Call me immediately!"

And another from her mother's nurse: "Your mother is so proud. She's been showing the newspaper to everyone who'll listen. She says she always knew you were destined for something special."

Sophia smiled despite her confusion. At least some good was coming from this arrangement. Her mother was happy, her bills were paid, and for the first time in months, she wasn't lying awake at night wondering how she was going to make ends meet.

She could handle a few blurred lines if it meant giving her mother the care she deserved.

But as she got ready for her day, Sophia couldn't shake the feeling that she was standing at the edge of a cliff, and one wrong step would send her tumbling into something she might never recover from.

The question was: would falling be the worst thing that could happen?

Or would it be the best?