Fake Dating the Billionaire

Chapter Four

Athlea’s Pov

“I can’t walk into that giant glass cage with you,” I whispered, my voice shaking as I froze right at the front doors of the towering skyscraper. “You have to,” Ashton replied firmly, pausing to look back at me. The town car had dropped us off right after the exhausting gala. Standing here, looking up at the shiny penthouse tower where I was supposed to live, reality hit me like a physical blow. I was completely out of my depth. “I really don’t think I can do this,” I added, feeling the panic rise in my chest. Ashton turned around completely, seeing the genuine panic written all over my face. His expression softened just a fraction as he took a step closer. “Athlea, my team made it very clear,” Ashton said, his tone softening into something less commanding. “If the media sees us going our separate ways, the rumors start again. They need to see us sharing a home. You agreed to this to keep your life stable.”

“I know, I know,” I murmured, hugging my small backpack tighter against my chest, feeling entirely out of place against the marble floors and gold elevators. “It just feels like I’m walking into a trap of my own making.” “It’s just for a few weeks, remember?” he reminded me quietly. Ashton let out a quiet sigh. “You won’t be trapped. Come on. Up we go.” He gently guided me toward the private elevator, his hand lightly touching my elbow.

A doorman somewhere behind us murmured a goodnight I barely registered, too busy keeping my knees from shaking. When the doors slid open at the top floor, my breath caught. The penthouse was massive, entirely walled in glass showing off the glowing city below. It was stunning, but terrifyingly cold and empty.

The air smelled faintly of cedar and fresh paint, like the whole place had been staged rather than lived in. My sneakers looked absurdly out of place against the pale stone floor, and I found myself instinctively stepping onto the edge of a rug instead, as if I might scuff something priceless just by existing there.

“Is this really where you live?” I asked, looking around the vast, silent space. “It’s home, mostly,” he answered simply. “Your bedroom is down the hall on the left,” Ashton said softly, walking over to pour a glass of water at the sleek kitchen island.

“My room is on the opposite side. We will stay out of your way.” “Thank goodness for small favors,” I muttered under my breath. I dropped my backpack, wrapping my arms around myself as I stared out at the city lights.

“Good. Because I don’t know the first thing about living like this, Mr. Sterling.”

“You will adjust,” he said, turning around with the glass in his hand. Ashton walked over, stopping a few feet away. His stormy eyes looked me over, reading the tension in my posture.

“There are rules we need to follow,” Ashton said gently. “First: when the press are watching, you play the part. Second: stay out of my private study at the end of the hall. Third: my kitchen staff will prepare meals according to the nutritionist’s guidelines. No skipping meals. I need you and… the baby safe.”

“I understand the rules,” I whispered, looking down at the polished floor.

He listed them so calmly, the way someone might recite a shipping schedule, yet each one landed on me like another brick added to a wall I hadn’t agreed to build. Still, I nodded along, filing them away as carefully as I once memorized my class notes, back when my biggest worry was passing an exam instead of surviving a stranger’s world.

Hearing him mention the baby sent a complex wave of emotion through me. This man was a stranger, an intimidating billionaire, yet he was the anchor keeping my sinking world afloat. I didn’t have the energy to fight him; I was just too tired, too overwhelmed.

For a moment neither of us said anything, the silence stretching long enough that I could hear the building settling around us, and the nervous thud of my own pulse.

“Can I go unpack now?” I asked softly, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

“Of course,” he nodded, stepping back.

“Okay,” I whispered, keeping my gaze lowered. “I understand.” Ashton stared down at me, clearly surprised by my lack of a sharp retort. The heavy tension between us shifted, replaced by an unexpected quiet intimacy.

“You look exhausted, Athlea,” he noted, his voice dropping slightly. Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket with a text from my old landlord asking about my dad’s old tools.

The sudden reminder of my real life made my chest tighten. I wasn’t a rich billionaire’s girlfriend. I was just Athlea, trying not to drown. “I need to check that,” I mumbled, my fingers twitching toward my pocket.

“Don’t worry about it tonight,” Ashton instructed gently.

“I need to go to my room,” I muttered, turning away quickly before he could see the fresh tears pricking my eyes. “Athlea,” Ashton called out softly, his voice stopping me in my tracks. “What is it?” I asked, keeping my back to him. I paused, looking back over my shoulder.

“Your debts… they were cleared this afternoon,” Ashton said quietly, his voice losing all its cold edge. “Your house is safe. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“You actually did it?” I breathed out, the reality finally sinking in. I stared at him, my throat tightening with sudden, hot tears. All my life, I had carried the burden alone. And now, this formidable man had lifted the heaviest stone off my shoulders.

“Thank you for keeping your word,” I added, my voice barely audible over the hum of the city outside. “Thank you, Ashton,” I whispered, the use of his first name slipping out naturally before I hurried down the hall to my room, my heart hammering against my ribs.