Two Hearts

One Last Step Before ...

Laura's POV

In the end, Erik's visit hadn't turned into a complete disaster.

Well... almost.

Everything had been fine until he started asking when Daniel and I were finally going to sleep in the same bedroom. So the question was still hanging over our heads. And apparently, there was no escaping it.

His final words still echoed in my mind long after he had left.

"My mother isn't the one you'll have to convince."

Was it really that obvious? That something had developed between Daniel and me? Honestly, I didn't even know anymore.

One moment it felt like there was something. The next, Daniel would retreat behind his walls again. He never gave me a clear answer. Still, things had improved after our last conversation. More than I ever thought possible.

He was present now. Really present. We always had breakfast together. He drove the children to school and picked them up afterward. Most afternoons, instead of disappearing into work, he stayed home. We talked whenever we had the chance.

Over dinner.

After dinner.

Sometimes we'd simply sit in the living room, each holding a glass of wine, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.

But he still hadn't completely opened up. There were topics that immediately made him shut down. Questions that earned either silence or a short, meaningless answer. I didn't push. I didn't insist.

Because I could see he needed time. A lot of time. Maybe he'd never fully open up. Maybe some wounds were simply too painful. Too personal.

Only Daniel knew the answer to that.

In the meantime, I kept making small changes around the house. Every free moment I had, I adjusted something. Added something. Moved something.

I placed family photographs in the living room and along the hallways. I pinned some of Markus's and Ellia's drawings to the refrigerator and added a magnetic family planner beside them.

The couch became softer under piles of blankets and cushions. A few of my books found their way onto shelves. Several decorations mysteriously disappeared because they looked like they belonged in a hotel lobby rather than a home.

The children had already taken care of their own contribution. Their toys were everywhere. At first, I had constantly picked them up.

Now? Most of the time I simply ignored them.

I also made sure there were fresh flowers in the house. One vase in the living room. One on the dining table. One upstairs on the hallway cabinet.

Walking through the house now felt completely different. Nothing suggested that a single man lived here anymore. The museum atmosphere was gone. It finally felt like a home.

I had even spoken to the house manager the first chance I got. The house could still be cleaned regularly. But nothing was to be changed. Nothing removed. Nothing replaced.

I updated the grocery lists too.

As strange as it sounded, I had slowly started feeling like the lady of the house. Even though I knew I wasn’t. Not really. Only on paper. Only for a few more months.

I reminded myself of that every single day.

And somehow, the more I thought about it, the worse it felt. Because what happened afterward When the contract ended?

Would Daniel simply show me the door? Would I take the children and leave? Would that be it? The thought followed me everywhere.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make it disappear.

Days passed faster than expected. Before I knew it, Friday had arrived. The weekend was finally approaching.

Part of me was excited. The other part was terrified.

I was sitting comfortably on the small sofa in my room, reading a book. For once, I had managed to relax. Reading had always been my escape. A temporary portal into another world. A world that made a lot more sense than my own.

Then suddenly—

The door flew open. No knock. No warning. No hesitation.

Daniel stormed into the room like a hurricane.

I stared at him. Completely stunned. What now? One look at his face told me this wasn't going to be good.

Daniel's POV

By the time my father finally left, I couldn't decide what I wanted to do more. Throw myself out a window. Or throw Laura over my shoulder and move her into my bedroom.

Of course, I did neither. Both options seemed equally ridiculous.

For days, I'd been trying to come up with believable explanations for why we slept in separate rooms - The children sometimes woke up during the night. Laura needed to be closer to them. I woke up earlier than everyone else. I worked late.

Anything.

Anything that would make sense. Anything that would keep things comfortable. For both of us. The problem was that I knew Laura didn't want this either.

And honestly?

I couldn't blame her. For over ten years, the only man she'd shared a bed with had been her ex-husband. Now she was expected to sleep beside a virtual stranger.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

The truth was...

We weren't strangers anymore. Not really.

We knew far more about each other than we had a few months ago. Every conversation brought us a little closer. And that both fascinated and terrified me.

Every day, I noticed another change somewhere in the house.

Laura was turning it into something I hadn't realized I'd been missing. Blankets draped over the couch. Pillows that somehow made the room feel warmer. Family photos on shelves and walls. The children's drawings on the refrigerator. Fresh flowers standing in vases. Toys scattered around the living room that Laura no longer rushed to put away every five minutes.

All of it hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

Because it reminded me of my mother. She had always done things like that. Fresh flowers. Family photographs. Small touches that made a house feel alive.

And somewhere between the flowers, the drawings, and Laura's books appearing in places they hadn't been before, my carefully built fortress had started falling apart.

The cold mansion I'd spent years creating was gone. For the first time in years, this place felt like a home.

A real one. The kind I'd spent years pretending I didn't need.

Unfortunately, I barely had time to enjoy that realization. Because my father called every single day. Sometimes twice. Sometimes three times.

The final straw came Friday morning.

"Daniel."

"What?"

"Any progress?"

I closed my eyes.

"Father, it's ten in the morning."

"That's not an answer."

At that moment, I genuinely considered throwing my phone through the nearest window. Instead, I answered through clenched teeth.

"I'll handle it today.” Then I hung up.

I stared at my calendar. Sunday. May fifteenth. Grandmother's arrival.

Two days.

Two damn days.

I dragged a hand across my face. There was no way around it anymore. No believable excuse. No clever solution. No miracle.

Laura was moving into my bedroom.

Today.

Whether she liked it or not. Whether I liked it or not.

The drive home was a blur.

The children talked endlessly in the back seat, but I barely heard a word. All I could think about was how to tell Laura.

She would argue. Obviously. She would be furious. Definitely. She'd probably throw one of her trademark sarcastic comments at me.

The thought made me smile despite myself.

Laura wasn't like other women. She never threw herself at me. Never flirted for attention. Never cared about my money. At least, she'd never given me any reason to think she did.

If anything, she was the complete opposite. She insisted on handling everything herself. And for some reason, that fascinated me more than I wanted to admit.

When we got home, I headed straight upstairs. I entered my bedroom. Everything looked exactly the same as always.

Dark. Minimalistic. Cold. Nothing suggested a woman lived here.

I walked into the dressing room next door. Rows of suits. Shirts. Ties. Everything arranged exactly the way I liked it.

I stared at it for a moment.

This is going to have to change. I'll need to make room for her. The thought felt strangely significant.

Then I forced myself to stop thinking and headed toward Laura's room. Normally, I would've knocked.

Today?

Today I decided speed was my friend. The faster this happened, the fewer opportunities Laura would have to argue.

I opened the door.

Laura looked up from her book, completely stunned.

"What is going on?” I ignored the question.

Two steps later, I was standing in front of her closet. I opened it. Grabbed the first three hangers I saw. And dropped them onto the bed.

"What are you doing?!" she shouted.

Not surprising.

"Moving day.” I kept my tone calm. Simple. Direct.

"EXCUSE ME?!” That was louder. Much louder.

I turned toward her. She was already on her feet. Her eyes were full of panic, frustration, and disbelief.

"Laura," I began carefully, "there are two days left until Grandmother arrives."

She folded her arms. Dangerous sign.

"I haven't found a single believable explanation for why we sleep in separate rooms. After my father's thousandth phone call, I decided the sooner we get this over with, the better."

For a moment, she looked like she might actually collapse. Then she sighed.

"Fine."

That surprised me.

"Fine?"

"Fine," she repeated. "But there will be rules. And boundaries."

I nodded. Reasonable. Very reasonable, actually.

Then I turned back toward the closet. And immediately spotted another problem. A much bigger one.

I pulled out several outfits and looked at them. Then looked again. Then dropped them onto the bed.

"This all has to go."

The silence that followed was terrifying.

"What?"

I pointed at the wardrobe.

"This."

"What does that mean?” Her voice had already become defensive.

I rubbed my forehead. This was not going well.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but these clothes don't exactly present you as my wife.” The second the words left my mouth, I knew I'd made a mistake.

“Aha." Danger. Big danger.

"So it's because I'm poor?"

What?

"No."

"Because I don't wear designer labels?"

"No."

"Because I don't spend thousands on clothes?"

“No!" I barely got a word out before she launched the next attack.

"You think I'm embarrassing."

That one genuinely shocked me. Embarrassed? By her? Not even remotely.

"Laura."

"What?"

"I have never once been embarrassed by you."

For a moment, she actually looked stunned.

Good.

Maybe we'd finally reached some common ground. Then she opened her mouth again. And destroyed that hope instantly.

"I'm not wearing tiny dresses."

I blinked.

"What?"

"Or six-inch heels."

"Laura—"

"Or anything where half my body is hanging out."

Now I was the one staring. Completely confused.

"What are you talking about?"

She folded her arms tighter.

"Daniel, I can imagine exactly what kind of women you spend your time with."

I almost laughed. Almost.

"Do you seriously think that's what this is about?"

"Then what is it about?"

I took a breath. Then another.

"I've never been embarrassed by you.” I repeated the words slowly. "Not once."

Silence.

Then I said the most honest thing I could think of.

"I'm proud to be seen with you."

The room went completely still. For once, Laura had no comeback. No argument. No sarcastic comment. Nothing.

And somehow that felt like the biggest victory of the entire conversation.

Laura's POV

For once, Daniel had managed to leave me speechless. Which was annoying. Very annoying.

Because now I had absolutely nothing to argue with. I stared at him, trying to decide whether he was serious.

The worst part?

He looked completely sincere. No sarcasm. No teasing. No hidden meaning. Just honesty. Pure, uncomfortable honesty.

And somehow that made everything worse. Because I didn't know what to do with it.

When Daniel Carter said something, he usually meant it. Especially when he looked directly at you like that. Without hiding. Without deflecting. Without running.

I turned away before he could notice how much those words had affected me. Because they had. Far more than I wanted to admit.

The room fell silent.

Neither of us seemed to know what came next. Eventually, Daniel pointed toward the disaster he'd created on my bed.

“How about this,” he said, switching back into practical mode. "Let's move everything first. Tomorrow we'll go shopping."

I immediately shook my head.

"I don't want to spend your money, Daniel."

His expression softened slightly. For a second, he looked almost tired. Like we'd already had this argument a hundred times.

"Then let's pretend for one day that it isn't my money."

I frowned.

"What?"

He shrugged.

"We're married, aren't we? Let's pretend it's our money."

The ridiculousness of that statement nearly made me laugh. But I didn’t. Because somehow it wasn't funny. Not anymore. Not when things between us had become this complicated.

"I don't know..." I admitted quietly.

And for once, I genuinely didn’t. Daniel studied me for a moment. Then nodded.

“Fine." He grabbed another pile of clothes from the bed. "We'll figure it out tomorrow."

Before I could answer, he was already carrying the clothes out of the room. Typical. Absolutely typical.

Daniel started conversations like a hurricane and ended them like a businessman closing a meeting.

I stood there alone for several seconds. Trying to process everything that had just happened. And failing miserably.

My room looked like it had been hit by a natural disaster. Half my wardrobe was gone. Boxes stood open everywhere. My suitcase sat on the floor. And somehow, in less than fifteen minutes, Daniel had completely turned my day upside down.

Again.

I sighed and started packing.

What else was I supposed to do? Arguing clearly wasn't going to stop him.

I folded the remaining clothes into boxes. Packed away my makeup. My books. My chargers. All the little things that had slowly turned this guest room into my room.

And the more I packed, the stranger I felt.

Because this wasn't just moving across the hallway. It felt bigger than that. Much bigger. Maybe because it made everything more real.

The contract.

The grandmother.

The marriage.

Daniel.

Especially Daniel.

At one point, I paused and sat on the edge of the bed. A memory surfaced unexpectedly.

Several weeks ago, I'd found an old article online. One of many gossip articles about Daniel. The headline had been ridiculous. Something about another mysterious woman leaving a nightclub with him.

I still remembered the photo.

The woman had looked perfect. Long legs. Tiny waist. Short dress. High heels. The kind of woman that belonged on magazine covers. The kind of woman men stared at.

The kind of woman I had never been.

And probably never would be.

That was why his comment about my clothes had hurt so much. Because for one horrible moment, I'd assumed he wanted me to become one of them. One of his club girls. One of the women he'd spent years surrounding himself with.

But apparently I had been wrong.

Very wrong.

Because Daniel hadn't been talking about changing me. He'd been talking about protecting the illusion. Protecting the lie. Protecting us. And somehow those were two very different things.

The door opened again. Daniel returned for another load. Without a word, he grabbed one of the boxes. Then another. Then my suitcase.

I watched him carry everything into his room.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Until eventually there was almost nothing left. By late afternoon, my old room looked empty. Not abandoned.

Just... temporary.

Like I had never really belonged there. Which was ridiculous. Because I had spent weeks living in it.

Still, standing there now, I realized something. Maybe I had stopped thinking of it as my room weeks ago. Maybe home had become something else entirely.

Or someone else.

I immediately pushed that thought away.

Nope. Absolutely not. Not going there.

The final box disappeared through the doorway. I followed it. And stepped into Daniel's bedroom.

Then froze.

The room looked completely different. Not because Daniel had changed anything. Because he hadn't.

The room was still dark. Still organized. Still intimidatingly perfect.

But now...

My things were everywhere.

My suitcase stood beside his dresser. My books rested on the nightstand. My sweaters hung beside his expensive shirts. My makeup sat on the bathroom counter. My life was suddenly mixed with his.

Everywhere I looked.

And for some reason, that realization made my heart beat faster.

Daniel set down the last box and looked around. Then looked at me. Then back at the room.

I could practically see the realization hitting him too. For the first time, the room no longer belonged only to him.

Neither of us spoke.

Because honestly?

What exactly were you supposed to say after moving into the same bedroom? - Nice weather? Pass the toothpaste? Please don't snore?

I had no idea.

And judging by the look on Daniel's face...

Neither did he.

So we simply stood there. Awkwardly. Staring at the evidence of our own bad decisions. Finally, Daniel cleared his throat.

"I'll make more space in the closet later."

I nodded.

"Okay."

"And we probably need another laundry basket."

I stared at him. A laundry basket? Seriously? Of all the things happening right now...

That was his concern?

"You've forced me to move into your room," I said slowly, "and your first thought is a laundry basket?"

He looked genuinely confused.

"Yes."

I covered my face.

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"You're unbelievable."

"I've been told that."

"I've told you that."

"Several times."

Despite everything, I started laughing. And to my surprise...

Daniel laughed too.

Just quietly. But it was enough. And suddenly the situation didn't feel quite so terrifying anymore.

Still awkward. Still complicated. Still completely insane.

But somehow...

Not terrifying.

I looked around one last time. Then at the enormous bed. Then at Daniel. Then immediately back at the bed.

Nope.

Absolutely not thinking about that. Not today. Not ever.

Unfortunately, Daniel followed my gaze. And instantly looked away. The tips of his ears turned red.

I blinked.

Wait. Was Daniel embarrassed? Daniel Carter? The man who intimidated CEOs? The man who could destroy someone's confidence with a single look?

That Daniel?

For some reason, the realization made me smile. Because for the first time since he'd stormed into my room like a madman...

I realized something.

He was just as nervous as I was. And somehow that made everything a little easier. A little less scary. And a lot more dangerous.

Because there were only two days left until Grandmother arrived.

And I had a feeling those two days were going to change everything.