Twelve months with him

Chapter 6

Harper stood in her apartment doorway, staring at two beat up suitcases that contained her entire life.

When she had told Jessie she was moving into Sebastian's penthouse, her best friend had gone silent for a full thirty seconds before exploding.

"Are you insane? Harper, you barely know this man!"

"I know but I have no choice, it was stated in the contract," Harper said.

Now, looking at those two suitcases, she felt the reality of what she had agreed to settle in her chest like a weight. Twelve months. Twelve months of living with a stranger. Twelve months of pretending to be married to a man who saw her hotel as nothing more than a development opportunity.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Sebastian: "Car is downstairs. The driver will help with bags."

Of course he had sent a driver. Of course he had not come himself. Harper should not have been disappointed, but something small and stubborn tightened in her chest anyway.

She grabbed both suitcases, took one last look at her cramped studio apartment with its broken heater and suspicious stain on the ceiling, and headed down.

The car was a sleek black sedan that probably cost more than she had made in the last two years. The driver, an older man with kind eyes, took her bags without comment. Harper slid into the back seat and tried not to think about how the leather smelled expensive.

The drive to Sebastian's building took fifteen minutes through downtown Seattle. Harper watched the city slide past her window, getting progressively more upscale with each block. By the time they pulled up to a modern glass tower overlooking Elliott Bay, she felt completely out of her depth.

The lobby was all marble and modern art. The elevator required a key card. Everything screamed money in a way that made Harper acutely aware of her thrift store jacket and scuffed boots.

Sebastian was waiting when the elevator doors opened directly into his penthouse. He had loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, which somehow made him look more intimidating rather than less. His eyes went to her suitcases, and something flickered across his face too quickly to read.

"That is it?" he asked. "That is everything?"

Harper felt defensive heat crawl up her neck. "I travel light."

"Clearly." He stepped aside to let her in. "The guest room is down the hall, second door on the left. You can use it as an office too if you need space to work."

The penthouse was exactly what she had expected. Floor to ceiling windows, minimalist furniture, a kitchen that looked like it had never been used. Everything was clean lines and neutral colors. There was not a single personal item visible anywhere.

"It is very..." Harper searched for a diplomatic word. "Modern."

"You can say sterile. Most people do." Sebastian moved to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. "You want something? Water? Coffee?"

"I am fine."

Awkward silence settled between them. Harper stood in the middle of the living room with her two suitcases, feeling like an intruder. This was supposed to be her home for the next year, but it felt like a very expensive hotel where she was afraid to touch anything.

"We should probably establish some ground rules," Sebastian said finally. He set his glass down and crossed his arms. "Make this easier for both of us."

"Okay."

"Your space is your space. I will not go into your room without permission. Same goes for my room." He nodded toward a set of double doors at the far end of the penthouse. "This is a business arrangement. We maintain professional boundaries."

"Agreed."

"We need to be seen together regularly. Dinners, events, occasional public outings. Claire will send you a calendar each week with required appearances."

"Required appearances," Harper repeated. It sounded so transactional. Which it was, obviously, but hearing it stated so plainly made her stomach turn.

Sebastian's jaw tightened. "This only works if people believe it. That means we show up together, we look comfortable with each other, and we do not give anyone reason to question the marriage."

"I understand."

"Do you?" His eyes were sharp, searching. "Because if you are having second thoughts, now is the time to say so. Once we start this, we are committed."

Harper thought about the Adriatic. About the five million dollars sitting in her account. About the sixty days she had once had to save the hotel slowly turning into twelve months of possibility.

"I am not having second thoughts," she said.

"Good." Sebastian's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Then we are clear on expectations."

"Crystal clear."

More awkward silence. Harper shifted her weight, suddenly exhausted. It had been a long day of signing papers and making decisions that felt too big for her brain to fully process. She wanted to collapse on a bed and sleep for twelve hours straight.

"I should probably unpack," she said.

"Right. Yeah." Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. It was the first genuinely awkward gesture she had ever seen him make. "The bathroom is attached to your room. Towels in the closet. If you need anything else, just let me know."

"Ok."

Harper grabbed her suitcases and headed down the hall, hyperaware of Sebastian's eyes on her back. The guest room was twice the size of her entire apartment, with a king bed, a desk, and its own walk-in closet. The bathroom had a rainfall shower and heated floors.

She set her suitcases on the bed and stood there for a moment, taking it all in. This was her life now. Living in a penthouse with a man she barely knew, pretending to be married, all so she could save a building.

Her phone buzzed. Another text from Jessie: "Are you alive? Should I call 911?"

Harper smiled despite everything and typed back: "Still alive. Just moved in. It is weird."

"Weird how?"

"Like living in a hotel. Everything is too nice."

"Better than your apartment where the heat did not work."

"True."

"Are you okay though? Really?"

Harper looked around the room at the expensive furniture and pristine walls and the complete absence of anything personal. She thought about Sebastian standing in his sterile living room, laying out rules and boundaries like they were negotiating a business contract. Which they were. That was literally what this was.

"Yeah," she typed back. "I am okay."

It was not entirely true, but it was not entirely a lie either. She was okay. She was going to be okay. She just had to survive twelve months, keep her heart locked down, and remember that this was business.

How hard could it be?

Harper opened her first suitcase and began unpacking, trying very hard not to think about the answer to the question.