Only You

Chapter Five: Pretend Lovers

The upscale restaurant was buzzing with polished voices, soft jazz music, and the clink of cutlery. Olivia walked beside Karl, her fingers curled tightly around the handle of her purse. She wore a soft cream blouse tucked into a high-waisted pencil skirt—simple, elegant, and everything she thought a “rich man’s fiancée” should look like.

Karl, on the other hand, looked devastatingly confident in his tailored navy suit, one hand in his pocket as he led her toward the reserved table.

Three men and a woman stood to greet them—executives from an international company Karl had been negotiating with for weeks. All smiles, they extended their hands.

“And this must be the lovely fiancée we've heard about,” said Mr. Davis, one of the senior partners, giving Olivia a kind smile.

Olivia returned it politely, even as she felt Karl’s hand slide around her lower back.

She stiffened.

Without turning her head, she hissed under her breath, “Touch me again and I’ll break your fingers.”

Karl leaned in just slightly, his breath tickling her ear. “Relax, sunshine. You’re supposed to be madly in love with me.”

She gave him a practiced smile as they both sat down.

Throughout the meal, Karl played his role with alarming ease—soft touches on her shoulder, casual glances that lingered just a beat too long, and compliments that sounded dangerously real.

“She’s smart, independent… and keeps me on my toes,” he said, chuckling. “Probably the only woman who’s ever said no to me.”

The clients laughed, eating it up.

Olivia smiled politely, then leaned in and whispered sharply behind her wine glass, “Keep talking like that, and I swear I’ll stab you with this fork.”

Karl raised an eyebrow, amused. “Romantic threats. You really do love me.”

She rolled her eyes and focused on cutting her steak.

But then something unexpected happened.

While one of the clients spoke about upcoming plans in Tokyo, Karl reached over and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. It was a soft touch. Slow. Almost… tender.

Olivia froze for half a second, caught off guard.

Their eyes met.

His smile faded just a little.

For a second, just a flicker, it felt real.

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she quickly looked away, covering her reaction by sipping her water.

When the meeting finally ended and the clients said their goodbyes, Karl held the door open for her as they exited into the sunlight.

“You were great in there,” he said casually. “Almost convincing.”

She didn’t look at him. “You touched me.”

He smirked. “I warned you. I’m a very hands-on fiancé.”

She stopped walking and turned to face him. “Karl. This is just business. You said you’d respect the line.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable for once.

“I did. But the line is getting blurrier by the day, sweetheart.”

With that, he walked ahead, leaving her to catch her breath on the sidewalk—wondering just how long she could keep pretending.

The Johnson family mansion was breathtaking, sitting on a hill with glowing chandeliers in every room and a dining hall that looked like it belonged in a royal palace. Olivia sat politely beside Karl, doing her best to smile through every course of the five-star dinner.

Karl’s mother, elegant and warm, leaned toward Olivia. “You’re just lovely, my dear. Beautiful and grounded. I can see why Karl is finally settling down.”

Olivia blushed, glancing at Karl, who casually took a sip of his wine without denying a thing. Liar.

His father chuckled. “He’s changed. No more late-night parties. No more models coming and going. You’ve tamed him, Olivia.”

She forced a nervous laugh. “I… I guess I did.”

Later that evening, after dessert and more praise from his very loving and very unaware parents, Karl’s mom clasped her hands together with a hopeful smile. “Why don’t you both stay the night? It’s so late, and the guest rooms are ready. Plus, I hardly get to see you two together.”

Olivia opened her mouth to protest but paused when Karl’s mom added softly, “It would make me really happy.”

Olivia swallowed. Her heart tugged with guilt. She couldn’t say no.

She looked at Karl, who gave her a smirk that screamed, Told you so.

“Okay,” she agreed, hesitantly.

Back in Karl’s old bedroom, Olivia changed into her modest pajamas and pulled an extra blanket and pillow onto the floor. She lay down, smoothing the blanket flat, trying to ignore the sound of water running in the en suite bathroom.

When Karl finally stepped out of the shower, his hair damp and messy, a towel draped around his neck, he paused at the sight of her curled up on the floor.

“You’re seriously sleeping down there?”

“Yes,” she said stubbornly. “There’s only one bed.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What if my mom checks on us and sees this?”

“She won’t.”

“You don’t know her.”

“And you said you’d respect my boundaries.”

He stared at her for a long second. Then, without warning, he tossed the towel onto the nearby chair and marched over.

“Hey!” Olivia yelped as he scooped her off the floor.

“Put me down, Karl!”

“No.”

She squirmed, her fists landing against his chest as he carried her to the bed.

“You’re such a jerk!”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured, dropping her on the bed like she weighed nothing. Then he leaned over her, pinning her gently.

“Sleep. With. Me,” he said slowly, his eyes serious but dancing with mischief. “Or at least pretend to. For the sake of your beloved future mother-in-law.”

“You’re crossing the line!”

“I’m not touching you—yet. I’m just here for the illusion.”

Her glare was deadly, but he was grinning.

“You think this is funny?” she snapped.

“A little,” he smirked. “Especially that angry face you make. It’s cute.”

Before she could throw back another sharp reply, the bedroom door opened.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” his mother gasped at the sight of Karl on top of Olivia, both wide-eyed and tangled on the bed. “I didn’t know you two were… I’ll come back in the morning!”

She quickly closed the door, cheeks flushed.

Silence fell.

Then Olivia turned her burning glare back at Karl, who still hadn’t moved.

“Get. Off. Me.”

“But now it’d be even more suspicious if you slept on the floor.”

She punched his shoulder.

“Ow!” he cried dramatically. “Woman, you’re dangerous!”

“You haven’t seen dangerous yet.”

He laughed, teasing, “Are you always this wild in bed?”

“Not with you!”

And with that, she shoved him off, kicked his butt hard with her heel, and stormed back to the floor with her blanket. He groaned in pain, clutching his side.

“Damn, country girl’s got power…”

She lay back down, facing away from him.

“Good night, Mr. Playboy.”

He rolled onto the bed with a smirk and groaned again. “Good night, Fiancée from Hell.”

But as the night fell quiet, both of them stared into the dark with a mix of amusement, frustration, and a strange twist of something else neither wanted to name.

Not yet.

The drive to work was quiet. Olivia sat in the back seat again, earbuds in, watching the city blur past the window. Karl kept glancing at her through the rearview mirror, pretending not to care, but his mind replayed last night in vivid detail—her stubbornness, her little fists punching his chest, her quick wit and fire.

He found himself smiling.

And then scowling.

Damn, what was wrong with him?

When they arrived at the office, he stepped out first, adjusting his suit, all charm and confidence. She followed behind, looking fresh in a simple blouse and pencil skirt, her long hair braided loosely down one side.

He tried not to notice how her presence alone made the air in his office feel different.

“Remember,” Karl muttered before stepping into the conference room, “we’re still playing lovebirds for today. Clients like happy endings.”

She rolled her eyes. “I won’t forget. Don’t worry, dear.”

The door opened. And in walked a tall, broad-shouldered man with soft brown eyes and a warm smile.

“Liam?” Olivia blinked.

The man froze mid-step, then broke into a wide grin. “Olive? No way!”

She beamed. “Oh my God, it’s really you!”

They hurried to each other, laughing, hugging tightly. For a second, Karl just stood there, blinking, stunned. He didn’t recognize this version of her—the bright, open smile, the way she looked so alive.

“You two… know each other?” Karl said, clearing his throat a bit louder than necessary.

Liam smiled. “We were best friends in high school. Same village, same troublemakers. I haven’t seen her in years.”

“We lost contact after I left for college,” Olivia added, stepping back. “I didn’t even know you were in the city.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “Small world.”

Then he reached for Olivia’s waist possessively and pulled her closer. “She’s my fiancée.”

Liam blinked. “Fiancée?”

Olivia hesitated, glancing up at Karl, who gave her a very smug smirk. “It’s… a long story,” she said quickly.

Liam chuckled awkwardly. “Well, congratulations, I guess.”

Karl’s grip tightened just slightly.

The three sat down to begin the project discussion. Karl led with the usual confidence, explaining timelines, expectations, and deliverables. But he noticed—and counted—every single time Liam glanced at Olivia.

Once when she smiled.

Twice when she brushed her hair behind her ear.

A third time when she asked for a copy of the project brief.

Karl’s jaw tightened.

And then, mid-discussion, he suddenly stood up. “I think we’re good for now, Liam. I’ll call you to schedule another meeting once we finalize the internal points.”

Liam blinked. “Already? That was quick.”

“Efficient. I’m a busy man,” Karl said coolly.

Liam stood. “Sure. No problem. It’s good seeing you again, Olivia. You look great.”

“You too,” she smiled.

Liam nodded and left.

As soon as the door closed, Karl turned to her.

“So,” he said, arms crossed, voice dry, “your best friend, huh?”

“What’s your problem?” she frowned.

“My problem is that he looked like he wanted to eat you alive.”

She scoffed. “That’s none of your business.”

“I introduced you as my fiancée.”

“And I played along like a pro, didn’t I?” she snapped, walking out.

Karl watched her storm off, lips pressed into a line.

She always walked away like that.

Like she didn’t even see the effect she had on him.

He leaned back against the desk, running a hand through his hair and muttering under his breath.

“What the hell is wrong with me?”

Lunch was supposed to be calm.

Karl had chosen a private table at one of the city’s finest rooftop restaurants. The view was stunning—silver skyscrapers towering against a bright blue sky. But Olivia wasn’t in the mood to enjoy any of it. She stirred her iced tea with her straw, not touching the salad in front of her.

Karl, on the other hand, didn’t take his eyes off her.

“So,” he began slowly, his voice casual but his eyes sharp. “How close were you and Liam?”

She stopped stirring. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “You two seemed very close. Lots of laughter. Hugging. He called you ‘Olive.’ You let him?”

Her jaw clenched. “That’s what people from my village call me. And he was my best friend, Karl. Stop acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not acting.”

She let out a breath and leaned forward. “We were just kids. We grew up together. That’s it. Stop reading into things that aren’t there.”

“You sure about that? Because the way he looked at you—”

“—You mean the way every woman in this city looks at you?” she cut in sharply. “Should I start interrogating you at every lunch about your one-night stands too?”

Karl blinked. That hit deeper than he expected.

He sat up straighter and said coldly, “You’re my fiancée, Olivia.”

Her laugh was bitter. “You mean your fake fiancée.”

Karl’s lips twitched. He raised his left hand and tapped the silver band on his ring finger. “Fake or not, I’m still your fiancé. And you’re mine.”

She looked at the ring, then back at him. “Don’t play this game with me, Karl.”

“I’m not playing. You’re mine—for now. So don’t go around making puppy eyes with old flames.”

“I wasn’t—!”

“And I don’t like being ignored,” he added, voice low.

She stared at him, stunned by the possessiveness in his tone.

“Karl,” she said slowly, “you can’t control me just because of some stupid ring and a fake title.”

“You’re right. I can’t control you,” he said, voice softer now, but his gaze was fire. “But I can tell when something’s mine. And I don’t share.”

She scoffed. “I’m not a toy or one of your playthings, Karl.”

He leaned closer across the table. “Then stop making me want you like you are.”

Her breath caught.

And for a second, the world stilled. Just the two of them, their eyes locked, heat crackling between them like fire on a wire.

Then she pushed her chair back suddenly. “I’m going back to the office.”

He smirked, sitting back coolly. “You do that, fiancée. I’ll be there shortly.”

She walked away without looking back—but her heart was racing the entire time.

Karl watched her go, his thumb still brushing over the ring.

Fake or not… he wasn’t planning on letting her go easily.

The air inside the office felt different.

Olivia stepped in first, her heels clicking across the polished floor. She was still fuming from lunch—her cheeks flushed not from embarrassment, but from that infuriating man who managed to get under her skin every time he opened his mouth.

Karl Johnson.

Rich. Arrogant. Impossible.

She adjusted the files in her arms, ignoring the curious stares of her coworkers. They all looked at her differently ever since Karl introduced her as his fiancée. If only they knew it was a farce. A performance. A deal with too many blurry lines.

She dropped her bag on her desk and sat down with a huff.

Just then, the glass door opened. Karl strolled in.

Hair tousled from the breeze outside. Suit jacket slung lazily over his shoulder. His tie loosened, revealing just a hint of the tattoo near his collarbone—one she had unfortunately seen the night he walked out shirtless in the penthouse.

He didn’t look at her.

Not even a glance.

He walked past her desk with a coolness that made her blood boil. His scent lingered in the air—woodsy, rich, and annoyingly intoxicating. His face remained blank, composed, unreadable as ever.

Click.

His office door shut behind him.

Olivia glared at the door like she could set it on fire. “Arrogant jerk,” she muttered.

As if on cue, her desk phone rang.

She sighed, picking it up. “Yes?”

His deep voice slid through the receiver like silk. “My office. Now.”

She blinked. “I just got here.”

“So did I,” he said smoothly. “Let’s make the most of the time, fiancée.”

He hung up.

Olivia let out a slow, controlled breath before rising from her chair. “Lord, give me strength,” she muttered as she walked toward his office. Her hand hovered on the door handle for a second, composing herself.

Then she stepped inside.

Karl stood behind his desk, scrolling through documents, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He didn’t look up. “You’re late.”

“I was early.”

He finally raised his eyes to her—blue, intense, unreadable. “Late to my expectations, then.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why did you call me in here?”

Karl walked around his desk and leaned against it, arms crossed. “Because you’re still mad.”

“And you’re still annoying.”

He smirked. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

She walked closer and slapped a file on the desk beside him. “Here’s the client proposal you should be reading instead of flirting.”

Karl leaned in slowly, his voice lower. “Who said I’m flirting?”

She took a step back, her heart racing, cheeks warming. “This whole thing is exhausting.”

“Then give in,” he whispered, lips barely a breath from hers. “It’ll be easier.”

Her eyes met his—burning with heat and warning. “You’re impossible.”

Karl gave a slow, devilish smile. “And yet, you still haven’t quit.”

“I might.”

“But you won’t,” he said confidently. “Because you like the game.”

She turned away, furious that he might be right.

And behind her, Karl watched her walk out, that infuriating smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips.

That night, Olivia tossed her bag on the couch in the penthouse and let out an exhausted groan. Just as she grabbed her phone to text Mia, Karl’s deep voice interrupted her peace from behind the kitchen counter.

“Where are you going?”

She turned, narrowing her eyes. “Out.”

He arched a brow, sipping from a glass of water like he owned the entire sky. “Out where?”

“To meet Mia,” she replied simply, grabbing her denim jacket. “We’re just getting drinks.”

Karl put the glass down with a soft clink. “It’s late.”

Olivia froze for a second, slowly turning back toward him. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not safe,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. “You’re not going alone.”

She snorted. “Oh please, don’t pretend to care all of a sudden. You let me walk to work the other day in heels and didn't even ask if I got blisters.”

He blinked. “You were fine.”

“I nearly died on those sidewalks.”

He moved closer, voice lower. “Then let me drive you.”

“No,” she snapped, standing her ground. “You’re not my father. And definitely not my real fiancé.”

Karl’s jaw ticked slightly, but she saw the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Still, I have a reputation to maintain. If the media sees you drunk or in trouble—”

“I won’t be!” she snapped, fire in her tone. “God, you’re so annoying!”

Karl smirked at her outburst. “Cute when you’re mad.”

She grabbed her bag. “Mia’s waiting. You can go back to being the cold-hearted devil you always are.”

Karl stepped aside like a guard reluctantly letting someone pass a gate. “Fine. Go.”

She was already out the door before he could change his mind.

Later, at the rooftop bar…

The city lights sparkled below, but Olivia barely noticed them. She sat across from her best friend Mia, sipping on a sweet cocktail and venting nonstop.

“I swear, he’s driving me crazy,” Olivia huffed.

Mia chuckled, swirling her drink with a straw. “You’ve only been fake-engaged for what? A week? You sound like a tired housewife.”

“Because he acts like a possessive husband!”

Mia grinned. “That bad, huh?”

“He told me not to go out tonight,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “Like I’m a child.”

Mia leaned in, eyes twinkling. “But you went anyway.”

“Obviously.”

“You like testing him,” Mia teased.

“I hate him,” Olivia replied quickly.

Mia raised an eyebrow. “That was fast. You hate him now?”

“I’ve always hated him.”

Mia smirked, sipping her drink. “Sure. That’s why your cheeks are turning red whenever you talk about him.”

Olivia rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out. “Please. It’s the alcohol.”

“Or it’s love,” Mia teased again, wiggling her brows.

“Shut up!” Olivia laughed, throwing a napkin at her. “It’s not love. He’s arrogant. Controlling. And the way he looks at me—like I’m something he owns.”

Mia gave a little dreamy sigh. “Hot.”

“It’s toxic!” Olivia shot back.

Mia grinned. “Same thing in romance novels.”

Olivia groaned, covering her face. “You’re the worst.”

Mia leaned her chin on her palm. “So… tell me about Liam. You said you saw him today?”

“Yeah,” Olivia nodded. “He’s Karl’s new client.”

Mia sat up straighter. “Wait—Liam our Liam? From high school?”

“The one and only.”

“No way!” Mia gasped. “He was the hottest guy in the village!”

Olivia laughed. “I know! And he hasn’t changed a bit. He was so sweet, and he remembered everything.”

Mia grinned. “Did Karl look pissed?”

Olivia hesitated. “He didn’t say anything directly, but... yeah. He looked a little—”

“Jealous?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Mia smirked. “Olivia Benson, you’ve got two hot men paying attention to you. One is your childhood crush. The other is your fake fiancé with a real jealousy problem.”

Olivia sighed. “God help me.”

Mia raised her glass. “To drama, lies, and hot men.”

They clinked glasses under the city sky.

The penthouse was quiet. Karl had just poured himself a glass of whiskey, tie loosened, his shirt half unbuttoned. The city lights reflected on the sleek marble floors as he sank into the couch with a sigh. He hated how his mind kept drifting back to Olivia—her laughter with Mia, the soft curve of her lips when she smiled, and especially the way she’d talked about Liam.

He took another sip, jaw clenching.

Just then, the sound of high heels echoed from the hallway. The front door opened.

He frowned.

“Hey, stranger,” a sultry voice purred.

Karl stood up quickly, eyes narrowing. “Emily?”

The tall, curvy brunette leaned against the doorframe, wearing a tight black dress and her signature red lipstick. She twirled her hair between her fingers and gave him a seductive smile. “Miss me?”

He rubbed his temples. “You can’t be here.”

She pouted. “Oh come on, don’t be boring. I thought we had fun the last time.”

“That was before.”

Emily walked closer, hips swaying, eyes raking over him. “Before what? Before you turned into a dull businessman who forgot how to enjoy himself?”

He stepped back. “Emily, go home.”

She blinked, surprised. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dead serious.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You never said no before, Karl.”

He didn’t answer, and that silence made her smirk.

“So there is someone,” she said knowingly. “That little country girl you brought to the gala… What was her name? Olivia?”

Before he could respond, Emily reached out and ran her fingers down his chest. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to cause problems,” she whispered, pressing closer. “Just here to remind you of what you’re missing—”

The front door creaked again.

Olivia stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she looked up—and stopped dead in her tracks.

Karl and Emily froze.

Olivia blinked at them. Emily’s hand was still on Karl’s chest. The way their bodies were angled… it looked intimate. Familiar.

“I didn’t know you had company,” Olivia said, her voice sharp but flat.

Karl quickly stepped back. “Olivia, it’s not what it looks like—”

She cut him off with a tight smile. “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything. I’ll just get out of the way.”

She walked past them with grace, her face unreadable, her heels echoing like thunder in the quiet space.

Karl moved to follow her. “Olivia—wait.”

But she was already in her room, the door slamming shut a second before he reached it. He jiggled the handle. Locked.

He sighed, pressing his forehead to the door.

Behind him, Emily leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “So who is she, Karl?”

He didn’t turn around.

Emily scoffed, insulted. “Wow. You won’t even answer that. That’s new.”

“Go home, Emily.”

“Whatever,” she said, brushing imaginary dust off her dress. “Enjoy your boring little domestic life.”

The door slammed behind her.

Karl stood alone in the hallway for a long moment before heading to his own room. His whiskey sat untouched on the table, and his mood had officially soured beyond repair.

Inside Olivia’s room...

She sat on the edge of the bed, unzipping her dress in silence. Her chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing something that wasn’t supposed to hurt.

She didn’t feel jealous—at least she told herself that.

But still… seeing Karl like that. With someone else. So close. So easy. Like she didn’t even matter.

“What did I expect?” she muttered under her breath, tossing her dress aside and pulling on her nightshirt.

He wasn’t hers.

They weren’t real.

She shouldn’t care.

And yet, her heart didn’t seem to get the memo.

Olivia curled into the bed, facing the window, the city lights flickering like stars across her face. But no matter how hard she tried, sleep refused to come.