RENT A ROMANCE

You look like a man who has everything. Clara Whitmore said calmly, folding her hands on the boardroom table. “But you don’t look like a man anyone can love.” The room went silent. Adrian Vale did not react immediately. He sit at the head of the twelve-seat mahogany table, dark suit sharp against the morning light .The skyline stretched wide and powerful — towers of steel and mirrored blue. The kind of view men built empires for. He owned half of it. “ Am not aware love is listed under company assets,” Adrian replied, voice smooth and controlled. A few board members shifted uncomfortably no one laughed. Clara did not blink. She had been in crisis management for twenty-five years. Politicians, athletes and billionaires — she had rebuilt reputations from ashes. Adrian Vale is simply another difficult masterpiece. “It’s not love we’re selling,” she said. “It’s relatability .” Adrian leaned back slightly. “We’re selling results.” “And investors,” Clara countered, “are human.” Cold, detached untouchable Adrian clasped his hands loosely on the table. “Vale Holdings increased revenue by seventeen percent last quarter. Our stock has outperformed projections for three consecutive years. Which part of that feels unrelatable?” The chairman cleared his throat. “The public image part.” Adrian’s jaw tightened. He had built Vale Holdings from collapsing acquisitions and risky investments. At thirty-six, he is younger than most of his competitors and twice as disciplined. He did not inherit softness instead he inherited strategy. “You need a story,” Clara continued, her tone steady. “A woman. A visible relationship. Something stable. It signals maturity. Emotional depth.” Emotional depth. Adrian almost smiled at that. His father had once said something similar. He remembered the night clearly. Sixteen years old. Sitting at the kitchen table while his father spoke in the same calm tone Clara used now. “I’m not fulfilled anymore.” No anger, no shouting Just quiet detachment. His mother hadn’t screamed. She had nodded slowly, as if understanding made abandonment respectable. His father left with a suitcase. Love, Adrian learned that night, did not explode. It evaporated. He stood from his chair, and move deliberately “You’re asking me to fabricate sentiment ,” he said evenly. “We’re asking you to manage perception,” Clara corrected. There is a difference but the one that mattered publicly. Adrian adjusted his cufflinks. “If I agree to this… it will be structured and Controlled . Clara’s eyes sharpened slightly. “Meaning?” “Meaning,” he said calmly, “I don’t do unpredictable things .” “They’re serious,” Daniel Cross said an hour later, standing in Adrian’s private office. Daniel is forty-two, observant, precise. Divorced without drama. He believed in facts, not feelings. That is why Adrian trusted him. Adrian stand near the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands in his pockets. “I know,” he replied. “You hate it.” “Yes.” Daniel studied him carefully. “But you understand why they want it.” Adrian turned slowly. “They think I need a woman to appear complete.” “They think a relationship makes you less intimidating.” “I am intimidating.” “That’s the problem.” Silence settled between them. Finally, Adrian spoke. “Find someone.” Daniel raised an eyebrow. “That’s so quick.” “I’m not debating perception,” Adrian said. “I’m controlling it.” Daniel stepped closer. “What exactly are we looking for?” Adrian’s voice is calm and precise . “Publicly appropriate. Private boundaries. No emotional expectations.” “A girlfriend,” Daniel said flatly. “A contract,” Adrian corrected. Daniel exhaled slowly. “She can’t be naive.” “She won’t be.” “She can’t expect permanence.” “She won’t get it.” Daniel watched him carefully. “And if she falls in love?” Adrian’s expression did not change. “She won’t.” Across the city, Lena Moore locked the front door of her shop and leaned against it for a moment. The bell above it stopped ringing. The street outside grew quieter as evening settled in. Her shop is not large, but it’s hers. Wooden shelves lined with handmade pieces. Soft yellow lighting. The faint scent of lavender oil she used in the corners. It is stable. Stability is everything to her “Long day?” Grace Moore asked from behind the counter. Lena nodded. “Three cancellations supplier and raised prices again.” Grace folded a measuring tape neatly around her neck. At fifty-three, she carried tiredness gently, like something she had learned to live with rather than fight. “You’ll figure it out,” Grace said. “I always do,” Lena replied. Her father had died suddenly when she was fifteen. One moment present. The next moment his gone. Hospital bills followed then silence followed longer. She learnt quickly that nothing is guaranteed. Especially love. There had been someone who once promised her expansion, travel ,and marriage.He had talked about forever like it was already decided. Then one day he left — chasing an opportunity he has always looked out for. “I’ll come back for you,” he had said. He never did. Lena did not cry publicly. She did not beg. She simply stopped believing in words that sounded permanent. “Mom,” she said quietly now, “do you think love is necessary?” Grace looked at her carefully. “I think it’s risky.” This is not the question.” Grace smiled faintly. “It’s necessary if you want to feel fully alive.” Lena shrugged. “I prefer steady.” Grace did not argue. Later that night, Lena sat on her bed scrolling through invoices when her phone rang. Unknown number. She hesitated before answering. “Miss Moore?” a calm male voice said. “Yes?” “My name is Daniel Cross. I represent Mr. Adrian Vale.” She blinked. “The Adrian Vale?” “Yes.” Silence. “I believe he has a proposal you may find… beneficial.” Lena frowned slightly. “What kind of proposal?” “A contractual arrangement.” Her stomach tightened. “Explain.” The next afternoon, Lena stood in the lobby of vale building. Marble floors , high ceilings , glass walls reflecting wealth without apology. She felt underdressed — not in clothing, but in life. Daniel greeted her personally. “Miss Moore.” “Lena,” she corrected. He gave a small nod. “This way.” The elevator ride is silent. When the doors opened, Adrian Vale is beside the window of his office. Tall ,composed and Watching the city like it had answered to him. He turned slowly as she entered. His gaze is assessing but not lingering. “You came,” he said. “I am curious,” she replied. He gestured toward the seating area. “Sit.” She did not rush to obey. She chose her seat deliberately. “I’ll be direct,” Adrian said. “I require a public relationship.” She stared at him. “For what reason?” “Optics.” “You mean image.” “Yes.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap. “And you believe I’m suitable?” Daniel answered that. “You have no public scandals. No social media drama. You run a business. You’re stable.” Lena’s eyes returned to Adrian. “And what do I get?” “Financial compensation,” Adrian replied smoothly. “Expanded exposure for your shop. Protection from inconvenience.” “Inconvenience?” she echoed. “Yes media speculation and attention.” She studied him carefully. “And when it ends?” “It ends,” he said simply. Clean, cold no hesitation. “You don’t believe in love,” she observed quietly. His expression did not shift. “It’s inefficient.” A strange flicker of recognition passed through her. “I don’t either,” she said. That caught his attention. “Good,” he replied. Daniel placed a contract on the table. Lena read every line. Slowly and carefully. Duration: six months. Public appearances required. Personal boundaries respected. Confidentiality mandatory. Her heart beat steadily. This is absurd. And safe. No promises. No vulnerability. Just terms. She looked up. “One condition.” Adrian raised an eyebrow slightly. “No emotional manipulation,” she said. “We keep this business.” “Agreed.” She picked up the pen. The sound of her signature felt louder than it should have. Adrian signed after her. Two names bound by paper. He extended his hand. “For the record,” he said, “this changes nothing personal.” She shake his hand firmly. “For the record,” she replied, “I don’t get attached.” Their hands lingered a second longer than necessary. Outside the window, cameras flashed faintly below the building entrance. Daniel’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then looked at Adrian. “The press caught wind,” he said quietly. Adrian’s jaw tightened. “How?” Daniel showed him the screen. Headline draft: VALE SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY WOMAN NO ROMANCE? Lena felt her stomach drop. “This has not started,” she murmured. Adrian’s expression hardened slightly. “No,” he said calmly. “It just did.” And somewhere outside that building, the first photograph of them together had already begun circulating. A contract had been signed. But something far less controlled had just entered the equation. Attention and attention never follows rules.