"Did you sleep at all?"
Kylie's voice broke the stillness of the morning as she stepped into the penthouse living room. Cole stood by the glass of the floor to ceiling window, already dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks, tie still undone. He didn't turn to look at her.
"Sleep is overrated ," he replied, eyes fixed on the skyline.
Kylie paused. The marble floor was cold beneath her bare feet. Her silk robe was tied loosely around her waist, her hair still slightly tousled from the night before. Not that anything had happened. After the wedding reception, they'd both retreated into silence. And separate rooms.
"Mhmm" she muttered, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the machine Cole had already used. She didn't ask how he knew how she took it black, no sugar. She didn't want to know.
"We made a splash," he said, glancing down at his tablet. "Three news outlets called it a strategic romance. Two said it was clearly love."
"And the rest?"
"They're too stunned to guess."
Kylie leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee. The bitterness burned, grounding her. "Good. Let them stay confused."
He turned then, finally meeting her eyes. "Allure Magazine wants an exclusive interview. Today. Noon."
She blinked. "That soon?"
"We control the narrative, remember? Strike while they're still watching."
She rolled her eyes but nodded. "Fine. I'll have to look perfect again, I guess."
Cole tilted his head slightly, as if studying her. "You always do."
She turned away too quickly. "I'll be ready."
The suite at Palm Royale Hotel had been transformed into a photoshoot dream. Stylists bustled around Kylie, fixing every strand of her hair and perfecting the crisp lines of her designer suit. The makeup artist gave her soft glam strong brows, bold red lips, and just enough blush to hint at warmth.
Cole stood nearby in a gray suit, calm and unreadable. As always.
When the journalist arrived Natalie Bergman, mid thirties, sharp smile she beamed at them both like they were royalty.
"First, congratulations," Natalie said as she took a seat across from them. "The city is still buzzing. Some are saying this is the business marriage of the decade."
Kylie smiled. "That's flattering."
"But I have to ask the question on everyone's mind," Natalie continued, her voice light but probing. "Is this a love match or a power play?"
Kylie leaned forward slightly, crossing her legs. "It's both. Cole and I understand each other in ways most couples don't. Our goals are aligned. Our pasts, complicated. And when you find someone who matches your fire, you don't let them go."
Cole nodded. "We've both fought hard to build our names. Together, we're stronger."
"So this isn't a traditional love story?"
"No," Kylie answered without hesitation. "It's better."
The interview continued for nearly an hour. Natalie asked about their first meeting "At a gallery, in passing," Cole lied smoothly and their favorite shared memories. Kylie painted a picture of rooftop dinners and late night strategy talks, carefully crafting the image of a powerful couple who balanced ambition with love and affection.
And through it all, Cole played the part perfectly. His gaze never strayed. His hand rested on hers when appropriate. But sometimes only sometimes it lingered too long.
When it was over, the crew began packing up. Natalie stood, shaking their hands. "You two are unforgettable. Thank you."
"We hope to stay that way," Kylie replied, smiling.
The ride back to the penthouse was silent. But not empty.
Kylie watched Cole from the corner of her eye. He was leaning back in the leather seat, jaw tight, eyes closed.
"You didn't enjoy that, did you?"
He opened his eyes slowly. "I enjoyed how convincing you were."
"That's not an answer."
He looked at her. "I don't like pretending."
She let out a dry laugh. "That's ironic, considering we're in a pretend marriage."
"I like control. Not fiction."
Kylie turned to the window. "Well, welcome to fiction. We're writing it now."
That evening, Cole prepared dinner not catered, not ordered. He cooked. Kylie watched him from the island counter, surprised.
"I didn't think you knew how to cook."
"I didn't always have money."
She nodded. She remembered reading about him. Self made. Ruthless. No family, no strings.
"You never talk about where you're from."
"Because it doesn't matter."
She tilted her head. "It does. It made you who you are."
"And who I am is exactly what Sebastian Carter fears."
At the sound of his name, Kylie's expression darkened. "He'll try something soon. He doesn't like being surprised."
"Let him try," Cole said, placing two plates down. "We'll always be two moves ahead."
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Kylie spoke again.
"What happens after we win? After the boardroom takeover, the stocks, the interviews when it's all done?"
Cole didn't answer immediately.
"Then we end this. Quietly. The divorce will be mutual. You'll be stronger, richer, and respected."
She nodded. "And what about you?"
"I'll move on to the next empire."
Kylie stared at her plate. Somehow, the food tasted duller now.
That night, she couldn't sleep. She stood on the balcony again, arms wrapped around herself. The city was quiet below, lights twinkling like tiny witnesses to her unrest.
"Cold?"
She turned and saw Cole standing at the doorway, barefoot, no jacket, just a glass of scotch in his hand.
"A little."
He stepped out beside her, offering his glass. She took a sip, then handed it back.
"Do you ever wonder if we're doing the right thing?" she asked quietly.
Cole didn't look at her. "Right and wrong are stories people tell themselves."
"And what story are we telling?"
"That two powerful people can take back what's theirs without falling apart."
She laughed softly. "Without falling in love, you mean."
He looked at her then. Really looked.
"Exactly."
Kylie met his gaze.
But neither of them reached for it.
"Goodnight, Cole."
He nodded. "Goodnight, Mrs. Walter."
And as she walked away, both of them were left wondering
If they were lying to the world or to themselves.