chapter 4

Three weeks into the marriage and they’d established a routine.

Alison woke at six, made coffee, and was out the door by seven fifteen. Eric worked from home until nine, then headed to the office. They passed each other in the hallway sometimes, exchanged polite good mornings, and pretended this was all perfectly normal.

At work they were flawless. Professional, efficient, no indication that they went home to the same address every night. She still called him Mr. Harrison in front of others. He still gave her instructions in that clipped business tone.

At home they were polite strangers who happened to share a kitchen.

Separate bedrooms on opposite ends of the penthouse. Separate bathrooms, as promised. She had the east wing, he had the west. They met in the middle for meals sometimes, mostly they didn’t.

It was working. Sort of.

Alison had learned his patterns. He stayed up until two am most nights working in his home office. Drank his coffee black in the morning, switched to green tea after lunch. Went for runs at irregular hours when he was stressed. Left his shoes by the door even though there was a closet right there.

She’d also learned he was surprisingly neat for a billionaire. No staff lived in, just a cleaning service twice a week. He did his own laundry, washed his own dishes. Like he didn’t want anyone in his space.

Their space now, technically.

This particular Tuesday started like any other. Alison woke at six, went through her morning routine. Shower, coffee, getting dressed for work. She was in the bathroom applying mascara when the water stopped.

Not slowed. Stopped completely.

She turned the faucet off and on. Nothing.

Maybe a building issue? She checked her phone. No notifications from building management.

She threw on her robe and headed toward the kitchen. Eric was probably already awake, he’d know if there was a problem.

But the living room was empty. His home office door was closed. She knocked. No answer.

Maybe he’d actually slept. Miracle of miracles.

She went back to her bathroom, tried the shower. Still nothing. Her hair was half washed, conditioner still in it from yesterday. Great.

Then she heard water running from the other end of the penthouse. Eric’s bathroom. His water was working.

She stood there for a long moment, debating. This was awkward. They’d successfully avoided seeing each other in any state of undress for three weeks. Separate bathrooms meant separate morning routines, no accidental encounters.

But she had conditioner in her hair and a meeting at eight thirty and his bathroom clearly had water.

She walked down the hall to his wing, knocked on his bedroom door. No answer.

The water was definitely running. Shower, from the sound of it. She knocked louder. “Eric?”

Still nothing. He probably couldn’t hear over the water.

She tried the door. Unlocked. Of course it was, why would he lock it when he thought he was alone?

“Eric?” she called again, pushing the door open slightly. “My water stopped working, I need to—”

The bathroom door was open. Steam poured out. And through the frosted glass of the shower enclosure she could see his silhouette.

Alison froze.

This was a terrible idea. She should leave, deal with the conditioner later, show up to work looking like a mess. Anything but this.

But then the water shut off.

She should run. Should absolutely run. She didn’t run.

The shower door opened. Eric stepped out, water streaming down his body, reaching for a towel on the rack.

That’s when he saw her. They both froze.

He was naked. Completely, utterly naked. And Alison’s brain short circuited trying to process that information while simultaneously trying very hard not to look.

She failed. She absolutely failed at not looking.

“Jesus Christ, Alison!” He grabbed the towel, wrapped it around his waist. “What are you doing?”

“My water stopped working!” Her voice came out too high. “I knocked, you didn’t answer, I just needed to—”

“So you walked into my bathroom?” “The door was unlocked!” “Because I thought I was alone!”

They were both practically shouting. Steam still filled the room. Water dripped from his hair down his chest and Alison forced her eyes back to his face.

His very angry, very flushed face.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t think, I just—”

“Needed to use my shower. Fine. Use it.” He moved toward the door, one hand holding his towel. “I’ll just—”

He didn’t finish the sentence because he tried to step past her at the same moment she moved aside and they collided.

Hard.

His wet skin hit her robe. She stumbled backward. He reached out to steady her with his free hand.

The towel dropped.

“Oh my god,” Alison said. “Fuck,” Eric said.

They both lunged for the towel at the same time. Their heads cracked together. “Ow!”

“Christ!”

He got the towel first, yanked it back around his waist. Alison had her hand pressed to her forehead where they’d collided.

They stared at each other. His hair was dripping water onto the marble floor. Her robe was now wet in several places. The towel was askew and barely covering anything.

This was a nightmare.

“I’m leaving,” Eric said tightly. “Use the bathroom. Take your time. I’ll be in my office.” “Eric—”

“Not discussing this. Ever. This never happened.”

He moved past her, carefully this time, maintaining distance. She heard his bedroom door close. Then lock.

Alison stood in his bathroom surrounded by steam and the lingering scent of his soap, her face burning.

She’d just seen her fake husband naked. Completely, entirely, unfortunately naked.

And the image was burned into her brain in high definition detail that she absolutely did not want and could not unsee.

“Professional,” she muttered to herself. “This is a professional arrangement.”

She finished washing her hair in his shower, trying very hard not to think about the fact that he’d been standing in this exact spot five minutes ago. Tried not to notice that he used the same brand of shampoo she did. Tried not to think about anything except getting ready for work and pretending this never happened.

When she finally emerged, fully dressed and composed, she found a note on the kitchen counter in his sharp handwriting.

*Called building maintenance. Water should be fixed by tonight. - E* No mention of the incident. Of course not.

She crumpled the note and threw it away.

At the office, Eric was already in his conference room when she arrived. She could see him through the glass, on a call, looking perfectly put together in his navy suit.

Like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t seen every inch of him an hour ago.

She sat at her desk and tried to focus on emails. Failed miserably. Her phone buzzed. A text from Eric.

*Conference room. Now.*

Her stomach dropped. Was he going to address it? Fire her? Renegotiate the contract?

She walked to the conference room on shaky legs. He was off the phone now, standing with his back to the door, looking out at the city.

“Close the door,” he said without turning around. She did.

He turned to face her. His expression was unreadable. “We need to establish new rules,” he said.

“I’m sorry about this morning. It won’t happen again.”

“It was an accident. But we need to be more careful.” He crossed his arms. “Knock louder. Wait for a response. Don’t assume.”

“Agreed.”

“And we never speak of this again.” “Absolutely never.”

“Good.” He uncrossed his arms, slid his hands into his pockets. “Your 9am is here, by the way. The investors from Singapore.”

Back to business. Like flipping a switch. “I’ll send them in.”

She was at the door when he spoke again. “Alison.”

She looked back.

His jaw was tight. A muscle ticked in his cheek. “For what it’s worth, you weren’t the only one who saw something they weren’t supposed to.”

It took her a second to process. Then she realized, her robe had been thin. And wet. And she hadn’t been wearing much underneath.

Heat flooded her face.

“Never speaking of this again,” she reminded him. “Right. Never.”

She left before her face could get any redder. Back at her desk, she put her head in her hands.

Three weeks into this marriage and she’d already seen him naked. Fifty more weeks to go.