ARIA
There are a few sentences in life that sound harmless until someone like Dalton Gray says them.
You'll move in with me tonight was one of them.
I'd refused, of course. Loudly. Dramatically.
But then I remembered that collapsing in your car isn't exactly a strong negotiation position, so somehow I ended up sitting in his car anyway still arguing.
"I'm only staying until I find a place," I said for the fifteenth time. "A week at most. Two, if I can't find something cheap."
He didn't answer. He just remained calm, silent, focused.
"I'll pay rent," I added. "I mean, not your kind of rent, obviously, but like… a token rent. Symbolic. You know, so you don't think I'm freeloading."
Still nothing. Just his profile against the city lights, sharp as his damn cheekbones.
"Dalton? Did you hear me?"
"I heard you," he said finally, eyes still on the me.
"And?"
"And I'm trying to decide if you actually believe the things you say out loud."
I glared. "You're impossible."
"I've been called worse."
That shut me up for about thirty seconds. Then my nerves kicked in again. "You're making that face," I said.
"What face?"
"The one that says you're judging every word I say but pretending you're not."
He smirked slightly. "I'm not pretending."
I groaned and turned to the window. God, why did he have to sound so calm all the time?
By the time we pulled into his driveway, I forgot how to breathe.
Calling it a house was an insult. It was a statement. All sleek glass and quiet wealth. You could probably fit my entire apartment in his foyer and still have room left over for a yoga class.
"This is not a house," I muttered. "This is a… museum. Do I need to take off my shoes before I breathe?"
Marcus laughed from the front seat. "You'll get used to it, Miss Davis."
"Please don't call me that," I said, flustered. "I sound like a teacher."
He grinned. "Then what should I call you?"
"Someone who doesn't belong here," I muttered under my breath.
When we stepped out, I turned to Marcus. "Can you take me to my apartment instead?"
Dalton's look could've frozen lava.
Marcus just chuckled. "I value my job too much for that."
Dalton's hand pressed gently on my back, steering me toward the front door. "Inside, Aria."
"Wow. Command tone. You practice that?"
"Every day," he said dryly.
The second we stepped in, I forgot what I'd planned to say next.
It was… breathtaking. High ceilings, art I couldn't name, furniture that looked like it belonged in a movie set. Even the air smelled expensive.
There was no universe where I could pay rent here.
Marcus disappeared after helping bring my bag in, leaving me alone with Dalton, who stood watching me like he was cataloguing every reaction.
I was so out of place. I felt like I was leaving a trail of dust and chaos just by standing there.
"Wow," was all I could manage.
Dalton watched me take it in, his expression unreadable. "Would you like a tour?"
Did I? I was equal parts horrified and desperately curious. "Yeah. Okay. Sure."
"Would you like a tour?" he asked.
He showed me everything the massive living room, the kitchen that looked straight out of a design magazine, the library, the view from the balcony that made my chest ache.
When he opened a door upstairs, I stopped dead.
The room was… perfect. Not in the luxury sense (though it definitely was), but in how it felt ready. The bed was made. Fresh flowers on the nightstand. Warm light, soft linens, everything in calm, neutral tones.
"You were prepared for me?" I asked, half-joking, half-uneasy.
He looked me dead in the eye. "For weeks."
I froze. "That's creepy."
He didn't flinch. "Practical."
I turned to look at him, truly seeing it for the first time. He hadn't just made a snap decision at the hospital. This had been his plan all along. He'd just been waiting for me to fall apart enough to agree to it. The realization was equal parts unsettling and, strangely, a little… flattering? In a messed-up, controlling kind of way.
I took the chance to retreat into the bathroom.
The shower was another world. I didn't even know water could feel that soft. The soap smelled like something you'd find in a spa. I could've lived there.
When I stepped out, I found pajamas folded neatly in the closet. Cotton. Soft. Perfect fit. Of course.
He thought of everything.
By the time there was a knock at my door, I'd already lost track of how long I'd been standing there, staring at the room.
"Aria," his voice came through the door, deep and calm. "Come down for dinner."
"I'm fine," I called back automatically.
"You fainted six hours ago. You're not fine."
Touché.
I sighed and made my way downstairs.
The dining room looked like something from a magazine long table, soft lighting, silverware that probably cost more than my tuition. Dalton was already seated, sleeves rolled up, looking too at ease in his own perfection.
I sat across from him, awkwardly.
"Did you cook this?" I asked, eyeing the food.
He gave me a look. "Do I look like someone who cooks?"
I smirked. "Honestly? You look like someone who burns water."
His lips twitched almost a smile. "Mrs. Higgins my housekeeper prepared it before she left."
"Ah. So your food magically appears. Got it. Must be nice being rich and allergic to grocery stores."
He tilted his head. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Only when I'm asleep."
A quiet laugh escaped him short, but real.
"It's… not uninteresting," he said, and then went back to his food as if he hadn't just said the closest thing to a compliment I'd ever heard from him.
We fell into a more comfortable silence after that. The food was incredible. I ate every last bite, my body thanking me for the real nutrition. I could feel his eyes on me occasionally, but it didn't feel creepy this time. It felt… observant. Like he was making sure I was actually eating.
As I took my last bite, I let myself look around the beautiful, silent room, then at the frustrating, complicated man across from me. This was my life now. I was living in a billionaire's penthouse, wearing his silk pajamas, because of a promise he made to my dad and a diabetes diagnosis.
It was the craziest thing that had ever happened to me.
And for the first time all day, with a full stomach and the terrifying immediate crises of homelessness and medical bills temporarily held at bay, I felt a tiny, stubborn seed of something that wasn't quite panic.
It was the beginning of my new, utterly insane, reality. And for tonight, at least, it was okay.
The safety in his house, under his watch was dangerous.
And if I wasn't careful, I'd start to like it.