Chapter 2 Crossing the Line
Alea paced the length of her small apartment, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. Ethan Watson’s words echoed in her mind, their weight pressing down on her chest. "A contract marriage." It sounded absurd, like something out of a bad soap opera. Yet, the proposition lingered, refusing to be dismissed.
Her thoughts drifted to Daniel. The memory of his smirk when he introduced her to his mistress stung like a fresh wound. He’d dismissed her as if she were insignificant, unworthy of loyalty. And now Ethan’s offer dangled before her—a chance to turn the tables, to show Daniel that she wasn’t just the woman he cast aside.
She exhaled sharply, dialing Ethan’s number before she could second-guess herself. The phone barely rang before his voice came through. “Miss Larson.”
“I’ll do it,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “But I have conditions.”
Ethan’s chuckle was low and measured. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Come to my office tomorrow. We’ll discuss the details.”
The next day, Alea walked into Watson Tower with her head held high, determined not to let her nerves show. Ethan greeted her with a small stack of papers—meticulously prepared contracts outlining the terms of their arrangement.
"You’ll move into my home," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "We’ll make public appearances together, and you’ll adhere to the role of my wife. In exchange, I’ll ensure you have financial stability and the resources to confront Daniel." He paused, meeting her gaze. "Do you have any objections?"
Alea scanned the document. "I want one clause added."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"
"No physical relationship," she said firmly. "This is strictly business."
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face, but he nodded. "Agreed."
As she signed her name on the dotted line, Alea felt a strange mixture of empowerment and trepidation. This was a step she couldn’t take back. And as Ethan reached for her hand, a camera flash captured their handshake—a fabricated beginning to a story that would upend both their lives.
Ethan’s penthouse had a view that could silence even the most cynical minds. The sprawling cityscape glimmered under the setting sun, but Alea hardly noticed as she stood in the living room, her suitcase at her feet. The reality of her decision sank in deeper with each passing second. She was now living under the same roof as Ethan Watson—the man who had single-handedly turned her carefully ordered world upside down.
“I’ll have someone bring your belongings to the guest room,” Ethan said, his voice as calm and composed as always.
“Guest room?” Alea raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with skepticism.
“This is a business arrangement, remember?” Ethan’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “I thought you’d appreciate a clear boundary.”
“Fair enough,” she replied, crossing her arms. “But let’s get something straight. I’m not here to be paraded around like some trophy wife.”
Ethan’s smirk deepened. “Don’t flatter yourself. The media will have their suspicions, and we need to be convincing. Beyond that, you’re free to spend your days as you please.”
Alea’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t naive enough to believe his words at face value. Ethan Watson was a man who always had a plan, and she suspected this arrangement served more purposes than he let on.
“Dinner is at eight,” Ethan added before turning on his heel and disappearing down a hallway, leaving Alea alone in the cavernous space.
By the time Alea joined Ethan for dinner, she had unpacked and changed into a simple black dress. The dining room was just as intimidating as the rest of the penthouse, with its long table and modern decor. Ethan sat at the head of the table, his posture impeccable.
“You’re punctual,” he remarked, gesturing for her to sit. A chef appeared from the kitchen, setting down plates of perfectly plated food before retreating in silence.
“I thought you’d prefer silence,” Alea quipped, her tone light but her eyes scanning his face for any reaction.
Ethan’s gaze met hers, steady and unreadable. “Silence can be productive.”
They ate in near silence, the clinking of cutlery filling the void. It wasn’t until dessert that Ethan broke the quiet.
“Our first public appearance as a couple is this weekend,” he said, his voice firm. “It’s a charity gala hosted by the firm Diana’s family runs. Appropriate, don’t you think?”
Alea’s fork froze mid-air. “You didn’t mention that part.”
“I didn’t think I needed to,” Ethan replied, his tone unapologetic. “If we’re going to sell this, we’ll need to face them sooner or later. Besides,” his lips curled into a smirk, “it’s an opportunity to set the tone.”
Alea set her fork down, her appetite suddenly gone. “And by ‘set the tone,’ you mean?”
“Show them we’re untouchable.”
Later that night, Alea stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in her room, staring at the city lights. Ethan’s words replayed in her mind. “Show them we’re untouchable.” The phrase lingered like a challenge, daring her to step into the role she’d agreed to.
She pulled out her phone, scrolling through old photos of her and Daniel. Her finger hovered over the delete button, but she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Not yet. Instead, she set the phone down and climbed into bed, her thoughts swirling as she drifted into uneasy sleep.
The next morning, Alea woke to find a garment bag hanging on her bedroom door. A note was pinned to it, written in Ethan’s neat handwriting:
For the gala. Wear it well.
Alea rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her curiosity. She unzipped the bag to reveal an exquisite evening gown—a deep emerald green with intricate beading. The craftsmanship was impeccable, and it was clear Ethan spared no expense.
She sighed. “Typical.”
By the time the weekend arrived, Alea had steeled herself for the evening ahead. The car ride to the gala was quiet, tension thick between her and Ethan. She could feel his presence beside her, calm and unbothered, as if this were just another business meeting.
“Remember,” Ethan said as the car pulled up to the venue. “We’re a team. Stick to the script, and everything will go smoothly.”