“This is insane.”
I paced across the large marble floor of Caspian Grey’s penthouse, my heels clicking against the shiny surface. The view was spectacular-the floor-to-ceiling windows framed a glittering Manhattan skyline, the city lights stretching endlessly beneath us. The sleek black furniture and minimalist design screamed wealth, but it was the utter silence of the place that freaked me out the most.
It was too calm. Too controlled. Too much like him.
Caspian slung an arm across the glossy black bar as though he had casually leaned upon every available clear inch of horizontal surface in Tokyo after mine and hadn’t a clue that this whole thing-flipping-my-universe-on-its-head problem was all about him. Black-suited and faultlessly cut, his collar stood open no more than two fingers, insinuating it did at hints of something way too personal to bear. With fingers very long, wrapped with apparent possession around cut crystal, amber liquid danced languid circles.
And maybe he did.
“It’s simple,” he said smoothly. “You pretend to be my girlfriend for six months, and I’ll pay off your bookstore’s debts.”
I stopped pacing. My pulse thundered in my ears.
I must have misheard him.
“What?” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Caspian took a slow sip of his drink before setting it down with precise control. His gaze never wavered from mine. “I looked you up.
A chill crawled up my spine.
“You what?”
His lips twitched. Not quite a smirk, but close. “I did my research, Lily.” He said my name with a deliberate slowness, as if testing how it felt on his tongue. “Your bookstore is drowning in debt. Your landlord is breathing down your neck. You’ve exhausted your options.”
I crossed my arms, trying to dismiss the shiver his voice all low and smooth, edged with quiet dominance-tried to force through me. “So what? You think I’ll just sell myself to you?”
Caspian pushed off the bar, his movements unhurried, deliberate. He stalked toward me, overwhelming, suffocating in his intensity.
I stood my ground.
When he stopped barely a foot away, I had to tip my head up to meet his gaze. His eyes, as blue as ice, cut into mine, sharp as ice and just as unforgiving.
“Not at all,” he whispered. “This isn’t a transaction, Lily. It’s an opportunity.”
I exhaled sharply, my breath shaking.
An opportunity. That was one word for it. Another word? A deal with the devil.
Caspian lifted his hand, his fingers brushing against my chin—just enough contact to make my breath hitch. His touch was featherlight, teasing, and completely unnecessary. Except, of course, he knew exactly what he was doing.
I hated that my skin tingled where he touched me.
“I need to clean up my public image,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost coaxing. “You need a miracle.”
His fingers ghosted down my jawline before he dropped his hand, as if he’d already won.
I took a shaky step back, desperate to clear my head.
“This is crazy,” I muttered.
Caspian didn’t disagree.
I clenched my fists. “Why me?”
His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his gaze-something unreadable. “Because you were there.”
A muscle tightened In my jaw. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” His voice was smooth, but I wasn’t convinced.
I swallowed against the unease curling in my stomach. He had money, influence, power—he could have chosen anyone to be his fake girlfriend. Someone from his world. A model. A socialite.
Not me.
I glanced at the skyline beyond the glass, my reflection ghosting against the city lights. My bookstore-the one thing I’d poured my soul into-was crumbling. I’d spent years fighting to keep it afloat, and I was losing.
I had nothing left.
And here Caspian was, offering me a way out.
But at what cost?
I turned back to him, ignoring the way he studied me like I was a puzzle he had already figured out.
“And after six months?” I asked.
His lips curled, just slightly. “We go our separate ways.”
Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist.
No strings. No emotions. Just six months of pretending and we’d be strangers again.
It should have reassured me.
Instead, it sent a strange, hollow ache through my chest.
I exhaled slowly.
I should say no. I should walk away.
But I couldn’t.
I raised my gaze once more, meeting his.
“All of my debts?” I asked, my voice softer now.
“All of them.”
“And you expect me to do what, exactly?
He stepped closer. Too close.
The scent of his cologne wrapped around me—dark, expensive, utterly intoxicating. His fingers traced the edge of my wrist, barely there, but enough to make my pulse stutter.
“Stay by my side,” he murmured. “Attend events. Smile for the cameras. Let the world believe I’m capable of something other than ruthless ambition.”
I exhaled shakily.
Six months.
I could survive six months of pretending.
Right?
I made myself look at him one last time, and the intensity in his eyes was like a trap, like he knew what I was thinking, like he begged me to give in.
I swallowed hard.
And before my mind could catch up, I whispered, “Fine.”
Something shifted in his expression-satisfaction, maybe. Triumph.
He lifted my hand, pressing his lips against the back in a slow, deliberate motion. The heat from his mouth sent a shiver straight down my spine.
“You won’t regret this, Lily,” he murmured against my skin.
I wasn’t so sure about that.
Because I had the sinking feeling that I had just made a deal I couldn’t escape.
And worse?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to.