The Arrangement

5

Joy and Richard slowly pulled away from the hug.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The quiet street stretched around them, the faint orange glow of the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. The space where the black car had been was empty now, as if nothing unusual had happened there at all.

Richard rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down the road again. “I still don’t like this,” he muttered.

Joy gave a small, tired smile. “I know.”

He looked back at her, studying her face carefully, like he was trying to read something she hadn’t said out loud. “You’re really going through with it.”

Joy tightened her hold on the envelope. “Yes.”

Richard exhaled slowly. The tension in his shoulders eased just a little, though the worry didn’t leave his face. “Then you’re calling me every day,” he said.

Joy blinked. “Every day? I'm still around, Richard”

“Morning, night, whenever. I don’t care.” He answered, folding his arms.

She shook her head lightly, a soft breath of laughter slipping out. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m serious.” He glanced down the street again before looking back at her. “That guy walks around like he owns the world. I don’t trust him.”

Joy didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded once. “Okay.”

Richard seemed satisfied with that answer. He nudged her shoulder gently with his. “Come on. It’s getting cold.” They went back inside together.

Later that night, the house had gone quiet. Richard’s bedroom door had closed hours ago, and the faint sounds of the neighbourhood had faded into the background. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed, its tires humming softly against the road before disappearing again.

Joy sat on her bed with the envelope resting in her lap. The contract lay open in front of her.

Her signature sat neatly at the bottom of the page. Joy Roberts.

She stared at it for a long moment. It looked so simple, just ink on paper. Yet somehow that single signature had shifted the direction of her entire life.

Joy leaned back against the wall, pulling her knees slightly closer to her chest.

Three days. Three days until she packed her things and stepped into Liam Owen’s world. The thought made something uneasy twist in her stomach. She tried to picture it. His house. His life.

The calm authority in his voice when he spoke, as if everything around him naturally fell into place.

Joy reached out and carefully folded the contract again before slipping it back into the envelope.

Why me? The question drifted quietly through her mind. What if she wasn't accepted?

There had to be hundreds of women better suited for something like this. Women who looked like they belonged beside a billionaire. Women who wouldn’t feel out of place the moment they walked into his house.

Joy lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The room suddenly felt smaller than usual. Three days.nIt didn’t feel like enough time to prepare for something this big. Eventually, she reached over and switched off the lamp beside her bed and darkness filled the room, but sleep didn’t come quickly.

Across the city, Liam Owen’s penthouse overlooked a skyline alive with light. Cameron stretched comfortably across the couch while Liam stood near the window, the city reflected faintly in the glass.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Cameron said. Liam didn’t respond immediately.

The silence stretched for a moment before he spoke. “She signed the contract.”

Cameron grinned. “I noticed.”

“She didn’t hesitate long.”

“Well, you did show up with a pen ready.”

Liam ignored the comment. Cameron studied him for a moment before leaning forward slightly.

“So,” he said, “what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Your fiancée.” Cameron answered, spreading his arms.

Liam picked up a glass from the table and took a small sip before answering. “She wasn’t what I expected.”

Cameron’s grin widened. “Oh, this sounds interesting.”

“I assumed she would ask more questions.” Liam said as he sat on the couch facing Cameron.

“She did ask questions.” Cameron answered.

“Not the ones I anticipated.”

Cameron chuckled softly. “Well, look on the bright side. She didn’t faint, scream, or run away. That’s already a success.”

Liam set the glass back down. For a brief moment, Joy’s image surfaced in his mind again. Standing under the dim streetlight, loose strands of hair falling around her face, a wrinkled dress, nervous hands gripping the contract. Yet despite all that, she had signed it.

Cameron watched him carefully. “You like her.”

Liam gave him an incredulous look in return. “This isn’t about liking anyone.”

“Sure it isn’t.” Cameron leaned back again, clearly unconvinced. He brought out his phone and tapped on it.

Liam picked up his phone from the table. “There are three days before she arrives.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow. “Already planning the royal welcome?”

“My father will expect to see her soon.”

“Of course he will.” Cameron sighed dramatically. “That man probably has wedding invitations ready.”

Liam ignored the remark as he dialled a number. The call connected quickly. “Yes, sir?” a voice answered. Liam fixed his gaze on the glowing skyline behind Cameron. “Prepare the house.”

A brief pause followed. “For what purpose, sir?”

Liam’s expression remained calm. “My fiancée will be arriving in three days.” Another pause. “I want the residence ready before she arrives.”

His voice dropped slightly, firm and precise. “The guest wing prepared, and all staff informed. I don't want mistakes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Liam ended the call, and Cameron let out a low whistle. “Well,” he said, stretching his arms above his head, “that sounded important.”

Liam didn’t respond. He simply sat there, looking out over the city. Three days, and when Joy Roberts walked through the doors of his home, everything would change.