Chapter 9 NINE

Lennox woke up and had no idea where she was.

The bed was too soft. The sheets were too smooth. The ceiling was too high, and the light coming through the windows was wrong, filtered through curtains that probably cost more than her rent used to.

She lay there for a minute, staring up at that impossibly high ceiling, trying to remember. Then it hit her all at once. The penthouse. The contract. The marriage that wasn't a marriage.

Callum Westbrook.

She was in Callum Westbrook's house.

Lennox sat up too fast and immediately regretted it. Her head spun, probably from sleeping like garbage despite the thousand-thread-count sheets or whatever insane number they were. She'd tossed and turned most of the night, hyperaware of every sound in the unfamiliar space, half convinced someone would burst in and tell her this was all a mistake.

But no one had. And now it was morning, and she was still here in this guest bedroom that was bigger than her entire apartment had been.

Everything she owned, which wasn't much, had been packed into three suitcases and moved here yesterday afternoon by people Gerald had hired. Professional movers for her Target clearance clothes and secondhand books. The absurdity would've been funny if it wasn't so depressing.

Lennox dragged herself out of bed, her feet sinking into carpet so plush it felt wrong to walk on. She found her phone on the nightstand. 6:14 AM. Why was she awake at 6:14 AM? She never woke up this early unless something was very wrong.

Everything was wrong, technically. But nothing she could fix by lying in bed.

She pulled on yoga pants and an oversized shirt and ventured out of her bedroom like she was leaving a safe zone in a video game. The hallway stretched in both directions, doors closed, everything silent and expensive looking.

The penthouse was somehow bigger in the morning light. Two floors of glass and marble and furniture that probably had its own insurance. She'd gotten the basic tour yesterday from Gerald, but she still felt like she was trespassing.

Lennox followed the hallway toward what she thought was the main living area, trying not to touch anything. Her footsteps sounded too loud against the hardwood floors.

She found the kitchen by following the smell of coffee, which was the first normal thing she'd experienced since waking up.

Callum stood at the counter, back to her, pouring coffee into a matte black mug. He was wearing athletic clothes, compression shirt and shorts that showed off a body that looked like he had a personal trainer. Which he definitely did. His dark hair was slightly messed up, like he'd just finished working out, and there was something about seeing him like this, casual and human, that made Lennox's stomach flip.

He turned before she could retreat.

"Oh," Lennox said brilliantly. "Hi."

Callum's expression didn't change. "Good morning."

They stared at each other across the massive kitchen island. This was her husband, technically. This was the man she'd be living with for the next two years. And she had absolutely no idea what to say to him.

"I didn't think you'd be up this early," Callum said finally, turning back to his coffee.

"I couldn't really sleep." Lennox moved closer, drawn by the coffee smell. "Everything's just... different."

"There's coffee if you want it. Mugs are in the cabinet above the machine."

Not I'll get you some or let me pour you a cup. Just curt directions, like she was an employee he was training.

Lennox found a mug and poured herself coffee. It smelled incredible, way better than the instant stuff she usually made. She took a sip and tried not to moan. Okay, so rich people coffee was genuinely better. That felt unfair.

"I work out every morning at six," Callum said, not looking at her. "The gym is on the lower level if you want to use it. Otherwise I'd prefer if you stayed upstairs during that time."

"Sure. No problem." Lennox wrapped her hands around the warm mug. "I'm not really a morning workout person anyway."

"I also have a call with Tokyo at seven thirty, so I'll be in my office most of the morning."

"Okay."

"Maria arrives at eight. She'll help you get settled, answer any questions you have about the house."

Maria. The housekeeper Gerald had mentioned. Someone else Lennox would have to pretend around.

"Great," Lennox said, because what else was there to say?

Callum finally looked at her, and Lennox suddenly became very aware of her messy hair and complete lack of makeup and the yoga pants that had a small hole near the knee. He was perfect even fresh from a workout, and she looked like she'd been dragged through a hedge.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked. "For your room? The house?"

"No, I'm good. Everything's fine."

"If something's not to your satisfaction, tell Maria. She can arrange whatever you need."

To your satisfaction. Like she was a hotel guest. Like this was temporary lodging instead of supposedly her home now.

"Will do," Lennox said.

Another silence stretched between them. Callum drank his coffee. Lennox drank hers. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city was waking up, buildings catching the early light.

"The announcement goes out Friday," Callum said abruptly. "Our engagement. Gerald's team is handling the press release and social media. You should prepare for media attention over the weekend."

"Right. The big announcement that I'm marrying Manhattan's most eligible billionaire." Lennox tried for a joke, but it came out flat.

"You'll receive calls, probably. Messages. Gerald will screen most of it, but some will get through. Don't answer questions about our relationship. Refer everything to the PR team."

"Don't talk to anyone. Got it."

Callum's jaw tightened slightly. "I'm trying to prepare you for what's coming. This isn't going to be easy."

"I know that."

"Do you?" He set his mug down, and there was something almost challenging in his voice. "Once we announce this, you can't take it back. Everyone will know your name, your face. The media will investigate your background, your family, every detail of your life. Are you ready for that?"

Was she ready for reporters digging into her past? For questions about Ryan who'd framed her and disappeared? For people looking at her and wondering what a nobody like her was doing with someone like him?

No. She wasn't ready at all.

"I can handle it," Lennox said anyway.

Callum studied her for a long moment, like he was trying to decide if she was telling the truth. His eyes were the same cold blue she'd seen in all those Forbes photos, but up close they had these flecks of gray that made them look almost stormy.

"I need to shower before my call," he said finally. "Help yourself to breakfast. Maria will be here soon."

He walked past her, close enough that Lennox caught the scent of expensive soap and sweat. Then he was gone, footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

Lennox stood alone in the kitchen, surrounded by marble countertops and appliances she didn't know how to use, and felt the crushing weight of how isolated she was. Living with someone who barely looked at her as a person. Pretending to be in love with a man who'd made it painfully clear she meant nothing to him beyond a signature on a contract.

She pulled out her phone, thinking maybe she'd text her sister Emma or her mom, but stopped. What would she even say? They'd panic. They'd ask questions she couldn't answer honestly.

So Lennox put her phone away and drank her fancy coffee and waited.

At exactly eight o'clock, she heard the elevator.

"Hello?" A woman's voice, warm and older. "Mr. Westbrook?"

"In here," Lennox called, trying not to sound as lost as she felt.

A woman appeared in the kitchen doorway, probably mid-fifties, with kind eyes and graying hair pulled back neatly. She was carrying bags that smelled like fresh bread and cinnamon.

"Oh!" The woman's face lit up when she saw Lennox. "You must be Miss Rivers. I'm Maria."

"Just Lennox is fine." She tried to smile. "It's nice to meet you."

"Mr. Westbrook told me you'd be staying here now." Maria moved to the counter, started unpacking her bags. Fresh croissants, fruit, something that looked like homemade jam. "I brought extra breakfast. Men never think about proper food."

"That smells amazing."

"Sit, sit." Maria gestured to the bar stools. "You look like you haven't eaten properly in days."

She wasn't wrong. Lennox had barely managed crackers yesterday, too anxious to keep anything else down.

Maria worked while she talked, setting out plates and napkins, slicing fruit with quick movements. "How was your first night? The guest room is comfortable, yes?"

"It's beautiful. Everything's beautiful." Lennox accepted a plate with a still-warm croissant. "I'm just not used to any of this."

"Of course not. It's overwhelming." Maria's expression was kind, understanding in a way that made Lennox's throat tight. "But you'll adjust. And I'm here if you need anything. Anything at all."

"Thank you." Lennox's voice came out smaller than she intended.

The croissant was perfect, flaky and buttery. Lennox ate it slowly, savoring something that felt normal.

They heard footsteps, and Callum appeared, dressed now in a suit that probably cost more than a car. His hair was perfect, his expression back to that cold, controlled mask. He glanced at Lennox, then Maria, then the breakfast spread.

"Maria. Thank you for coming early."

"Of course, Mr. Westbrook." Maria's tone shifted slightly, more professional. "Will you be home for dinner?"

"No. I have meetings until nine at least."

"I'll leave something you can reheat."

Callum nodded, checking his watch. He looked at Lennox one more time, and she couldn't read anything in his expression. No warmth, no interest.

Just nothing.

"I'll be at the office," he said. "Maria has my number if you need anything."

Then he left. The elevator dinged. The doors closed. And Lennox was alone with Maria, who was looking at her with those kind, knowing eyes.

"Don't mind him, dear," Maria said gently. "He's not used to sharing his space. Give him time."