Chapter 6: Moving Into The Penthouse

(Jane’s POV)

During the drive to his penthouse, I kept my mouth shut. What was there to say?

Here I was, relocating to the home of the man who had unwittingly turned my life upside down. And now, for some reason, my fate seemed tied to him.

My hands trembled in my lap, fingers nervously twisting around one another. William sat next to me, quiet and unreadable, tapping on his phone as if this were just another work obligation.

Perhaps, for him, it was.

But for me? It felt monumental.

My heart raced, pounding against my chest like it wanted to break free.

“Stop looking like you’re being kidnapped,” he murmured without looking up from his screen.

I shot him a glare. “That’s pretty much how this feels.”

He let out a sigh. “It’s not that. You’re safer with me.”

“Since when did you care about my safety?” I shot back.

There was a long pause. 

“I don’t,” he finally answered. “But what comes next is crucial. Right now, your safety is part of the plan.”

Oh.

The plan. The image. The so-called “public partnership.” The facade we had to maintain.

I sank into my seat, wrapping my arms around myself.

This all felt wrong.

The car halted outside a towering glass building that seemed too pristine, too flawless for someone like me.

A suited man hurried over to open the door.

“Mr. Martins,” he said with a bow. “Miss Mark.”

I nearly gasped. Hearing my name alongside his felt… unreal.

William stepped out first and then turned back to me. 

“Jane. Come.”

Come. As if I were a stray animal he’d taken pity on.

With my small bag in hand the only thing I managed to bring I ,slowly exited the car.

We stepped into the elevator.

Mirrored walls, soft lighting, and an oppressive silence surrounded us.

He stood next to me, hands tucked into his pockets, exuding an air of cold perfection.

I couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at him.

His jaw was perfectly chiseled, his suit impeccable, and he had this commanding control about him.

Meanwhile, I was a mess puffy eyes, unkempt hair, emotions all over the place.

“Stop overthinking,” he stated, his gaze still fixed ahead.

“I’m not,” I retorted.

“Yes, you are.”

If only I could hide my feelings as well as he could hide his.

“How do you always know what I’m thinking?” I snapped.

“Your face gives it away.”

I rolled my eyes. “Great. So I look miserable.”

“Yes,” he replied bluntly. “You do.”

I glared at him, but he didn’t apologize.

Of course not.

When the elevator doors opened, I stood frozen in place.

The space was nothing short of stunning.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view that looked straight out of a film. The aesthetic featured clean lines, pristine white marble, dark furniture everything was sleek, expensive, and utterly out of reach.

My entire previous life could fit into just a corner of this living room and still feel misplaced.

“This is… your home?” I whispered in disbelief.

“Yes.”

I swallowed hard. “It looks like a museum.”

“Just don’t break anything,” he replied casually. “Most of this is irreplaceable.”

I shot him a skeptical look. “Thanks for the reassurance.”

He brushed that off.

Of course.

“You need to know a few things,” he began, striding further into the penthouse.

I stayed still by the door.

He paused and turned to me. “Jane.”

“What?” 

“Come here.”

With reluctance, I approached.

He looked down at me, his expression firm and his voice steady.

“Rule number one: Don’t talk to the press without me okayy?”

I nodded slowly.

“Rule two: When we’re in public, we present a united front. No fights, no panic, no running.”

I nodded again.

“Rule three: You’ll have complete freedom here, but don’t step into my office without permission.”

Alright…

“And rule four,” he emphasized, locking eyes with me, “If you need anything food, clothes, paperwork let me know. Don’t try to handle it on your own.”

My brow furrowed. “Why not?”

His jaw clenched. “Because if you manage things by yourself, they can spiral out of control.”

The photograph, the scandal, the chaos.

Right, he meant it.

I glanced away.

He walked down the hall and opened a door.

“This will be your room,” he informed me.

I stepped inside.

It was larger than my old apartment.

A massive bed, soft lighting, a walk-in closet, and a sparkling bathroom.

It felt all wrong

It felt entirely misplaced.  

Out of place to be here.  

Inappropriate to accept any of this.

“I don’t fit in here,” I murmured.

William leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

“You do now.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

“I know.”

Those words stung more than they should have.

Turning away, I fought back the tears.

“Jane.”

I stayed silent.

“Look at me.”

I hesitated… then forced myself to meet his gaze.

His expression was steady but impossible to read.

“You’re here because this situation demands it. Not because you owe me anything. Not because I’m here to save you.” He paused for effect. “You’re here because we’re in this mess together. So stop behaving like you’re an outsider.”

I stared at him, taken aback.

That was honestly... the most reassuring thing he’d said since this all began.

“I’m feeling overwhelmed,” I confessed quietly. “Everything hurts.”

“I understand.”

“And I still don’t trust you.”

He nodded once. “That’s okay. Trust isn’t necessary. What we need is cooperation.”

I gulped, processing his words.

He started to leave but then hesitated.

“One more thing.”

My heart raced. “What is it?”

His voice dropped, steady and deliberate.

“For the next few weeks... I need everyone to think we’re closer than we really are.”

I blinked, confusion washing over me. “What do you mean?”

His eyes locked on mine, firm and unyielding.

“You’ll be sleeping in the room next to mine.  

We’ll come and go together.  

And sometimes…”  

He took a slow breath.  

“…I might need to hold your hand.”

My stomach lurched.

“I….what?”

“For the cameras,” he clarified. “For the narrative.”

My chest tightened in response.

This felt all too real.  

Too intimate.  

Too fast.

“And,” he added, “once we step outside this penthouse… you’re under my protection.”

My breath hitched.

I couldn’t tell if that was a threat,  

A promise,  

Or something entirely different.

He opened the door to leave.

“Oh,” he said softly, “Dinner is at eight. Don’t be late.”

The door clicked shut.

And I found myself alone in my new room.  

In his world.  

Breathing too rapidly.  

Feeling too intensely.  

Terrified.  

Confused.

And maybe… just maybe…  

A tiny spark of curiosity about the man behind the chaos was beginning to form