Adrian's penthouse is everything I expected and nothing I'm prepared for.
Floor to ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. Minimalist furniture that probably costs more than my studio. Art on the walls from auction catalogs.
Not a single personal touch anywhere.
"Ms. Bennett." Victor Shaw, Adrian's assistant, greets me at the door. Forty something, impeccably dressed. "Mr. Knight is expecting you in his office."
I follow him through the penthouse, my sneakers squeaking on marble floors.
Victor stops at a door, knocks once, opens it.
Adrian's office is even more intimidating. Massive desk. Leather chairs. Floor to ceiling bookshelves.
Adrian gestures to the chair across from his desk. I sit, and he slides a bound document across the surface.
"The full contract," he says.
I pick it up. Heavy. Official.
"Take your time," Adrian says. "Read every word."
I open to the first page.
**RELATIONSHIP SERVICES AGREEMENT**
I skim through opening clauses. Effective dates, six months from signature. Legal language that makes my eyes cross.
Then I hit the meat of it.
**Section 3: Public Appearances**
*Party A (Adrian Knight) and Party B (Zara Bennett) agree to attend a minimum of two (2) public events per month as a couple. Events include but are not limited to: charity galas, corporate dinners, family gatherings, and social functions. Both parties must present a united, affectionate front at all such appearances.*
"Two events a month," I say. "Minimum."
"Sometimes more depending on the season." Adrian watches me over steepled fingers. "Charity gala season is particularly demanding."
I keep reading.
**Section 4: Social Media Protocols**
*Both parties agree to maintain an active social media presence as a couple. This includes couple photos posted bi-weekly, appropriate comments on each other's posts, and coordinated responses to public inquiries.*
"You want me to post couple photos?"
"The relationship needs to appear genuine." He pauses. "Victor will send you guidelines."
Of course there are guidelines.
**Section 5: Physical Affection**
*Parties agree to display appropriate physical affection in public settings, including but not limited to: hand holding, brief kisses, embracing, and other gestures consistent with a romantic relationship. All physical contact will be limited to public settings and will cease in private unless both parties explicitly consent.*
My cheeks heat reading this. He put physical affection in a contract. With subsections.
"The physical affection clause," I manage.
"Is necessary." Adrian's voice is carefully neutral. "People will expect to see us touch. Kiss. Act like a couple. We need clear boundaries about what that means."
"And in private?"
"In private, we maintain professional distance. This is a business arrangement, not a relationship."
Right. Business.
I keep reading. Media training provisions. Wardrobe consultations. Emergency protocols. A schedule of expected events.
Then I hit Section 12.
**Section 12: Emotional Boundaries**
*Both parties explicitly agree that this is a professional arrangement without romantic intent. Neither party will develop, express, or act upon genuine romantic feelings for the other. In the event that either party begins to develop real feelings, they must immediately disclose this to the other party and renegotiate terms or terminate the agreement.*
The "no real feelings" clause.
I read it three times.
"This section," I say quietly.
Adrian's expression doesn't change. "Is the most important one."
"You're that worried about catching feelings?"
"I'm that committed to clarity." He leans forward slightly. "This works because we both know what it is. A business transaction. The moment it becomes something else, it fails. This clause protects us both."
"From what?"
"From forgetting this isn't real."
The words land heavy between us.
I flip through the rest. Compensation, Adrian covers all public appearance expenses. Termination, either party can end with two weeks notice. Confidentiality, neither party discusses the contract publicly.
Thorough. Professional. Cold.
I close the contract.
"I need to think about it."
"Of course." Adrian doesn't look surprised.
I stand.
"Zara." He says my name carefully. "Before you go, there's something you should know."
I pause.
"Ryan's been talking. Telling people Morrison dropped you because you were emotionally unstable." His voice is flat. "He's claiming you showed up to that dinner stalking him. That he had you escorted out."
My blood runs cold. "That's not what happened."
"I know. I was there." Adrian's jaw tightens. "But he's convincing. And people are listening."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you should know what you're up against." He pauses. "And because if you sign that contract, it stops. Immediately. No one questions Adrian Knight's girlfriend. No one believes she's unstable or clingy or any of the things Ryan's saying."
I stare at him. "You'd do that? Stake your reputation on mine?"
"I'd be staking it on the truth." His eyes meet mine. "You're not what he says you are. And I don't let lies stand when I can stop them."
My hands shake. I clench them into fists.
Morrison didn't just drop me because of rumors. They dropped me because they believed I was unstable. Because Ryan made them believe it.
Everything I've built. My reputation. My career. My future.
All of it hanging by a thread while Ryan burns it down.
I look at the contract on Adrian's desk. At this man who barely knows me but fired Ryan anyway. Who followed me into an elevator to tell me I wasn't ordinary. Who's offering me a way out of the hole Ryan's digging for me.
Six months of pretending.
Six months of keeping my heart safe behind a contract.
Six months of business.
I pick up the pen from Adrian's desk.
"Where do I sign?"
He slides the contract back to me, open to the signature page.
I sign my name. Zara Bennett. Quick, before I can second guess myself.
Adrian signs below me. His signature is bold, confident, the kind that closes billion dollar deals.
He extends his hand across the desk.
"Partners?" he says.
I shake his hand. His grip is warm, firm, and something electric passes between our palms that definitely isn't in the contract.
"Partners," I echo.
We drop hands. The contract sits between us, signed and sealed.
"Victor will send you the schedule for our first appearance," Adrian says, back to business. "Friday night. Charity gala for the Children's Hospital."
"Friday. That's in three days."
"Is that a problem?"
I think about my closet full of clothes that don't belong at charity galas. About my complete lack of experience being Adrian Knight's girlfriend. About the fact that I just signed a contract that could either save my career or destroy what's left of my life.
"No," I lie. "No problem."
Adrian's eyes linger on my face like he knows I'm lying. But he doesn't call me out.
"Then I'll see you Friday, Zara."
I leave with the contract in my bag and the feeling that I just made either the best or worst decision of my life.
My phone buzzes as I exit the building.
Unknown number: "Congratulations on your new relationship. You two looked so cozy in his office just now. - V"
I freeze on the sidewalk.
Vanessa.
Adrian's elegant, calculating ex almost-fiancée who I haven't even met yet.
And somehow, she already knows.