The elevator ride to the 80th floor was silent, save for the faint hum of machinery and the sound of my own heart hammering against my ribs. I looked at the reflection in the polished chrome doors—a woman in a simple thrift-store dress standing next to a man whose suit probably cost more than my entire four-year degree.
"The staff has already moved your things," Adrian said, not looking away from his phone. "What little there was of them."
"I don't need much," I replied, trying to sound firmer than I felt.
The doors slid open to a living room that felt more like a museum than a home. It was all white marble, floor-to-ceiling glass, and a view of the city lights that felt like looking down from the clouds.
"This is it," he said, finally pocketing his phone. "My housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, will be here in the mornings. You have your own wing. My office and bedroom are off-limits unless we have guests or an emergency. Is that clear?"
I nodded, walking toward the window. The world looked so small from up here. "Why the secrecy, Adrian? If we're supposed to be a happily engaged couple, won't people wonder why I'm restricted to one wing?"
He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. The scent of sandalwood was stronger now. "In public, you are the woman I can't keep my hands off of. In private, we are strangers. I value my privacy above all else. Do not mistake my signature on that check for an invitation into my life."
The coldness in his voice was a sharp reminder of the contract. Just as I was about to retort, a sharp buzz came from the intercom.
"Mr. Thorne," a voice crackled. "Your mother is downstairs. She says she isn't leaving until she meets the 'mysterious girl' the tabloids are whispering about."
Adrian's jaw tightened. He turned to me, his eyes scanning my tired face and cheap dress. "Change of plans. Our first performance starts in five minutes. There's a box on your bed. Put it on. Now."
I hurried to the guest suite and found a velvet box. Inside was a silk emerald dress and a diamond necklace that looked heavy with the weight of a thousand lies. I had traded my debt for a cage, and the first bars were already closing in.