Chapter Four: Moving Day
1080 Words
KAIROS
The penthouse was too quiet.
I stood at the floor to ceiling windows, seventy five floors above the city, watching New York wake up beneath me. Friday morning, and in six hours, Liana Hart would walk through my door with her suitcases and her secrets, and this arrangement would become real.
Marcus entered without knocking, carrying coffee and concern in equal measure. "The car is ready for Miss Hart's pickup at noon. Her apartment lease has been handled. The staff knows she's arriving today."
"Good." I didn't turn from the window. "Anything else?"
"Actually, yes." His tone made me look at him. "I need to ask if you've really thought this through. Marriage, even a fake one, is complicated."
"It's a business transaction." I took the coffee he offered. "Six months. Then it's done."
"Is it though?" Marcus sat down uninvited, something only he could get away with. "Kairos, you've been alone since Elena. Five years without letting anyone close. Now you're bringing a woman into your home, your life. What if it's not as simple as you think?"
"It will be simple because we both know what this is." I drank the coffee black and scalding. "She needs money. I need a wife for the Rousseau deal. Feelings don't enter into it."
"The Rousseaus are traditional, old fashioned. They'll expect to see genuine affection." He leaned forward. "Can you fake that convincingly? Can she?"
The question bothered me more than it should. I'd seen Liana exactly twice, once at the coffee shop where I'd made my offer, once at Marcus's office for contract signing. Both times she'd been composed, intelligent, clearly desperate but not broken. Pretty in an understated way that would photograph well.
But I hadn't thought about touching her, holding her, pretending to be in love. The physical aspects of the arrangement.
"We'll manage." My voice came out colder than intended. "Love is just another performance. I've watched people fake it my entire life."
Marcus stood, shaking his head. "Your parents loved each other, Kairos. Before they died, they had something real."
"And it destroyed my father when he lost her." The words came out sharp. "Love makes you vulnerable. It gives people power over you. Elena taught me that lesson thoroughly."
"Elena was a liar and a thief. That doesn't mean everyone is."
"No, it means I'm smarter now." I finished the coffee, set the cup down with deliberate care. "Liana and I have a contract. Clear terms, clear ending. That's safer than any emotion."
He left without arguing further, but his doubt lingered in the room like smoke.
I spent the morning working, reviewing contracts, taking calls, pretending this was a day like any other. But my eyes kept drifting to the guest room I'd had prepared for Liana. Neutral colors, expensive furniture, a space that said money but not intimacy.
Separate bedrooms. That had been in the contract. We'd maintain appearances publicly but privately, this was a business arrangement. No complications.
At noon exactly, my phone buzzed. The car had arrived at her building in Brooklyn.
Twenty minutes later, Marcus called. "We have a problem."
My hand tightened on the phone. "What kind of problem?"
"Miss Hart is refusing to get in the car. She says she needs to handle something first, that she'll make her own way to the penthouse." He sounded frustrated. "She's being difficult."
Difficult. I didn't have time for difficult. "Put her on the phone."
A pause, muffled voices, then her voice came through. "Mr. Blackwood, I apologize, but I have a personal matter to handle this afternoon. I'll arrive by six as we agreed."
"The agreement was that you'd be picked up at noon." I kept my voice level with effort. "We have a schedule, Miss Hart. The Rousseaus are expecting us for dinner tomorrow night. That means today we need to…"
"I understand, and I'll be there by six." Her tone was polite but firm. "This is non negotiable. It falls under my privacy clause."
The privacy clause she'd insisted on. The one I'd agreed to because it seemed reasonable at the time.
"Fine." The word came out clipped. "Six o'clock. Not a minute later."
She hung up without saying goodbye.
I stared at my phone, irritation crawling under my skin. This was exactly the kind of chaos I'd wanted to avoid. Unpredictability. Lack of control. The sense that there were variables I hadn't accounted for.
Marcus appeared in my doorway. "She's protective of her privacy. We knew that going in."
"Privacy is one thing. Defying direct instructions is another." I pulled up her file on my computer, the one my investigator had compiled. "What aren't we seeing, Marcus?"
"Maybe she just needs time to say goodbye to her life." He shrugged. "Moving in with a stranger, even temporarily, that's not easy."
But something nagged at me. The way she'd insisted on privacy clauses. Her strange hours, her lack of social media, the gaps in her history. I'd been so focused on the surface, on her suitability for the role, that I hadn't dug deeper.
Maybe that was a mistake.
"Run another background check." I closed the file. "Deeper this time. I want to know everything."
"Kairos—"
"Everything, Marcus." I met his eyes. "I don't like surprises."
He left reluctantly, and I returned to work, trying to ignore the unease settling in my chest. This was supposed to be simple. A transaction. But already, hours before she even arrived, Liana Hart was proving to be more complicated than I'd planned for.
At five forty five, the front desk called. She was in the lobby.
I stood at the door, watching the private elevator climb toward my floor, and wondered what I'd really bought for three million dollars.
When the doors opened, she stepped out with two worn suitcases and eyes that had seen too much.
"Mr. Blackwood." She extended her hand, professional and distant. "Thank you for your patience today."
I shook her hand, felt the calluses on her palm from work and worry, and ignored the small voice asking what secrets she was hiding.
"Welcome home, Miss Hart." The lie tasted strange on my tongue. "Let me show you to your room."
As I led her deeper into the penthouse, into the life we'd both agreed to fake, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just invited something dangerous across my threshold.
Something that might destroy us both before the six months were done.
- Writer
