chapter4
984 Words
The next morning arrived like a reluctant confession. Manhattan buzzed outside Liam’s penthouse windows, but inside, everything felt... still. Ava hadn’t slept well. The bed was too soft, too quiet, too far from the life she’d known. She missed the familiar hum of the subway outside her dad’s apartment, the cramped walls, the mismatched mugs—things that weren’t shiny or cold or part of a performance.
She pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans, tied her curls into a messy bun, and wandered into the kitchen. The marble counters and brushed steel appliances made her feel like a trespasser in someone else's dream.
There was a note on the counter.
“Ava—Told Elena to back off for the day. No press. No cameras. Just... come upstairs. Rooftop. —L”
She stared at the message like it might explode.
He wanted to talk? No cameras? No script?
Curiosity tugged at her. Against her better judgment, she followed the sleek staircase up to the rooftop—half expecting to find a table full of paparazzi or some staged photo op.
But instead, she found Liam.
No suit. No phone in his hand. No assistant trailing behind.
Just him. In dark jeans, a charcoal sweater, and holding two paper cups of coffee.
He looked... almost normal.
“Morning,” he said. His voice was quieter than usual, missing its usual edge.
She raised an eyebrow. “You sure this isn’t a trap? Am I walking into a Vogue editorial shoot?”
He smirked, just slightly. “If it was, you’d be wearing couture.”
She took the coffee. “So what’s this, then? Another phase of our engagement strategy?”
“No strategy,” he said, leaning against the railing. “Just needed a break. Thought maybe you did too.”
Ava blinked, unsure what to do with this version of him. “And you decided to... share your rooftop with the help?”
Liam gave her a sideways glance. “You’re not help. You’re my fiancée.”
“Right,” she said, sipping the coffee. “Fiancée. For tax purposes.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the city sprawling beneath them.
“It’s weird,” Ava said finally. “Pretending to be something you’re not. Everyone looking at you like they know your story.”
“Welcome to my life,” Liam said without humor.
She looked at him then. Really looked. There were shadows under his eyes, the kind people didn’t get from just a bad night’s sleep. This man—ruthless, controlled, untouchable—looked tired.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she asked. “The pretending.”
He didn’t deny it.
“I grew up in rooms like this,” he said. “Luxury penthouses, private schools, networking dinners when I was fifteen. My family wasn’t close. We were... polished. Marketable.”
Ava tilted her head. “So why do all this again? Why even bother with the inheritance clause? You’ve got money.”
Liam gave a dry laugh. “Not the point. The clause isn’t about cash. It’s about control. My grandfather hated the idea of me taking over Carter Enterprises without proving I could commit to something real.”
“So naturally, you hired a stranger to fake a marriage,” Ava said.
He smirked. “You’re not exactly forgettable, Ava.”
The comment made her pause. The way he said her name—it had weight. Not flirtatious, not mocking. Real.
She sipped the coffee again, needing a moment. “What about your ex? Vanessa. She clearly still has feelings for you.”
“She’s not part of this,” Liam said, his tone sharpening.
Ava raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because she looked pretty involved when she showed up to the fitting yesterday, pretending she had first dibs on the groom.”
“She thrives on appearances. She’s the one who ended things, years ago.”
“Why?”
Liam exhaled slowly. “Because I wouldn’t give her what she wanted. A title. A spotlight. She didn’t want me—she wanted the brand.”
Ava studied him. “And you think I’m different?”
“I know you are.” He met her gaze directly. “You didn’t even want this. That’s why I chose you.”
The rooftop grew quiet again. Something in the air shifted. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was heavy, thoughtful.
“You really believe this is going to work?” she asked. “That we can fool everyone for a whole year?”
He looked out at the city. “It’s not about fooling them. It’s about surviving long enough to get through it.”
“And what happens after?” she pressed. “When the year’s up?”
“We walk away,” Liam said, but something in his voice hesitated. “No strings.”
“No regrets?” she asked, almost teasing.
He gave a faint smile. “I’ve lived with worse things.”
Ava set her coffee down on the ledge. The morning sun hit her face, and she closed her eyes against the brightness.
“This doesn’t feel fake right now,” she said quietly.
He didn’t reply right away.
“No,” Liam said. “It doesn’t.”
They stayed like that for a while. Not talking. Not pretending. Just standing in silence, two people tangled in a game they didn’t quite understand anymore.
As they finally turned to go back inside, Liam stopped her.
“By the way,” he said, “you don’t have to keep calling me Mr. Carter around my staff. They know who you are now.”
Ava grinned. “Fine. Liam.”
He turned away before she could see the smirk forming at the edge of his lips.
And she didn’t see the way he looked back over his shoulder when she wasn’t looking.
- Writer
