Strangers Under One Roof
958 Words
The mansion was quieter than it had ever been. The sound of footsteps echoed faintly through the marble halls, carried by the soft hum of the air conditioning. Skylar sat by the edge of her bed, her fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of her dress as she listened to the distant rhythm of movement downstairs. Logan was home.
Her heartbeat fluttered when she heard the door of the master bedroom open next to hers—then close again. The muffled clink of his wristwatch landing on a table, the faint rustle of fabric—he was changing. She could almost imagine him there, tall and composed, removing his black suit and loosening his tie with that cold precision he wore so easily.
A few minutes later, she heard footsteps again. The sound grew fainter as he walked down the hallway and descended the grand staircase. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until a maid gently knocked at her door.
“Mrs. King,” the maid said softly, “Mr. King requests your presence for dinner.”
Skylar froze. “I—I’m fine, thank you. I already ate earlier.”
The maid hesitated, looking nervous. “Mr. King said he insists, ma’am.”
Skylar let out a slow sigh. Of course he did. The man didn’t strike her as someone who took ‘no’ easily. She stood up, smoothed her dress, and followed the maid down the winding staircase.
The dining room glowed under the soft golden light of chandeliers. The table stretched endlessly, but only two seats were occupied—one at the head, where Logan sat, and one to his right, reserved for her.
He looked up as she entered. His casual clothes—a black shirt with rolled sleeves and tailored trousers—did nothing to soften his sharp presence. There was something unnervingly calm about him, something that made her feel small and seen all at once.
“You shouldn’t skip meals,” he said simply, gesturing to the chair beside him.
Skylar sat down quietly, her fingers brushing against the edge of the plate. “I’m not very hungry,” she murmured, but she took a few bites anyway. The clinking of cutlery filled the silence like a conversation neither of them could start.
The food was exquisite, yet she couldn’t taste a thing. Logan ate slowly, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. His eyes—gray and steady—rarely lifted from his plate.
Skylar tried to fill the silence. “Thank you,” she said softly, looking at him from across the table. “For… everything. For helping me.”
He didn’t look up immediately. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his tone even. “We both got what we wanted. That’s enough.”
His voice was deep, measured—too calm for the kind of man who had just turned the world upside down with a wedding no one saw coming.
The silence stretched again.
Skylar forced another bite of her food, her mind racing. She wasn’t sure if it was the quiet that made her uneasy or the fact that he seemed so unaffected by it.
Then, without looking up, Logan spoke. “Tomorrow, there will be a banquet at the Grand Meridian. You’ll attend with me.”
Skylar blinked. “A banquet?”
He nodded. “Yes. It’s a corporate and social event—business partners, families, investors. The press will be there. You’ll be introduced as my wife.”
The word wife lingered heavily in the air.
Skylar swallowed hard. “Alright,” she said after a pause. “What do I need to do?”
“Nothing complicated,” he said. “Just look the part. Dress well. Smile when you must. Speak little. I’ve arranged for a stylist and a make-up artist to arrive early in the morning. They’ll handle everything.”
She nodded quietly, unsure what to say.
He finally lifted his gaze to her, eyes calm but firm. “You’ll need rest. Tomorrow will be long, and the paparazzi will be relentless. You’ll be under more eyes than you’ve ever been before. Brace yourself for that.”
His words weren’t cruel—they were factual. Like a man warning her about a storm he already knew was coming.
She lowered her eyes, tracing circles on her napkin. “I understand.”
Logan stood up slowly, his chair making a soft sound against the marble floor. “Good. Then rest well tonight.”
Skylar looked up as he turned to leave, but before stepping out of the dining room, he paused.
“One more thing,” he said, his voice calm but carrying that quiet authority that filled the space between them. “This marriage might be built on conditions, Skylar, but the world doesn’t need to know that. From this moment on, you are Mrs. King. Carry that name with grace. Don’t give them a reason to talk.”
She nodded, her throat tight. “I understand, Mr. King.”
He glanced back at her, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. “Logan,” he corrected. “When we’re alone.”
Before she could respond, he turned and walked out, his footsteps fading down the hall.
Skylar sat there for a long time after he left, the taste of expensive food still on her tongue, but her stomach too tight to hold it.
Mrs. King. The name echoed in her head like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.
She rose from the table, the quiet of the mansion pressing in again. Tomorrow, the world would see her as someone new.
And for the first time, she wasn’t sure whether that terrified her—or thrilled her.
- Writer
