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Mason's POV

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the penthouse was the silence. It wasn't oppressive or eerie—it was exactly how I liked it. No chatter, no interruptions, no one to ask how my day was. Just peace and quiet, the city buzzing far below, muffled by the floor-to-ceiling windows that surrounded me.

I loosened my tie, tossing it carelessly onto the marble counter. I dropped my phone on the chair and sunk into the couch, groaning in relief as all the ache in my body relieved me a bit. My phone vibrated, a message notification lighting up my phone, and I glanced at the screen. Bethany, of course.

Bethany: "Dinner at Mom's tomorrow night. Don't forget. Love you!"

I sighed, setting the phone down without replying. It wasn't that I didn't love her—I did, in my own way—but sometimes her constant enthusiasm felt like static in my brain. Dinner at her mom's was just another item on a long list of obligations that came with being the perfect fiancé.

I forced myself up the couch, yawning and stretching a bit before going to the bar. I poured myself a drink, the amber liquid catching the light as I swirled it in the glass. Being the charming, doting partner everyone expected wasn't difficult; it was a role I'd mastered long ago. The small talk, the compliments, the occasional grand gesture—it was all part of the package.

But behind closed doors? That was different. I'd mastered the art of fooling them all into thinking I was just the right guy when we were all together. The nice, caring, polite guy.

I sank into the leather couch, kicking my shoes off and propping my feet on the coffee table. The engagement had been her idea, not mine. Not that I'd objected—Bethany was beautiful, talented, and fiercely loyal. She fit the image I wanted to project: successful businessman with the perfect partner by his side.

Still, there were moments when I wondered if I'd made a mistake.

The buzz of my phone interrupted my thoughts. This time, it wasn't Bethany. A small smile played on my lips as I saw the name on the screen: Danielle.

Danielle: "Still on for tomorrow night?"

I stared at the message for a moment, weighing my options. Bethany's mom's dinner or an evening with Danielle? It wasn't a hard choice. I typed back my reply fast.

Me: "Of course. Can't wait to see you."

I set the phone aside, finishing my drink in one long swallow. Danielle doesn't ask for much. Just a few stolen moments here and there, enough to keep things exciting without complicating my life. She knew the score. She knew me perfectly, who I pretended to be in public and who I really was in private.

Bethany, on the other hand, demanded everything. Her relentless drive to make our wedding perfect was exhausting. Every time I saw her sketchbook filled with intricate designs for her dress, I couldn't help but think, 'It's just one day. Does it really matter that much?'

She just didn't understand balance.

The wedding planning wasn't the only thing that irritated me these days. Part of it was her constant need for validation, the way she lit up when I complimented her work, the way she sought my opinion on every little detail. I gave her just enough to keep her happy, but to be honest, I didn't care about centerpieces or floral arrangements.

I grabbed my laptop, opening my inbox. Work was where I excelled, where I felt in control. Numbers didn't ask questions, didn't need reassurance. They just made sense.

Bethany's face flashed in my mind, her wide smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her dreams of being a world-renowned designer. I'd always admired her ambition, but lately, it was feeling more like a double-edged sword.

She was so consumed with her work, with the wedding, with us, that she didn't see the cracks forming beneath the surface.

I leaned back, staring at the city lights outside. Maybe that was for the best.

***

It was morning. I sighed, running my hands through my hair as I slipped into my public persona as the devoted fiancé, walking to the cafe where Bethany and I were supposed to meet this morning before I went to work. Bethany had insisted on a breakfast meeting to go over guest lists, and I knew better than to say no.

I walked into the cafe, leaving the door alone to close by itself and it didn't take long to figure out where she was seated. Right in the middle of the cafe. Of course she was already here, her sketchbook open on the table. She raised her head on cue, her eyes brightening and her face lit up. I walked towards her, grinning.

"Hey, babe," I greeted as I got to where she was seating.

"Mason!" she said, standing to kiss my cheek. "I ordered you a coffee."

"Thanks," I said, sitting across from her.

She launched into a list of things we needed to finalize: the seating chart, the playlist, the cake flavors. I nodded in all the right places, offering the occasional "That sounds great" or "Whatever you think, babe."

"Are you even listening?" she asked at last, her eyes shining with frustration as she narrowed it.

"Of course," I said smoothly, offering her the best apologetic smile I could muster. "I'm just amazed at how much you've already taken care of. You're incredible."

That did the trick. She blushed, ducking her head with a shy smile. "I just want everything to be perfect."

"It will be," I assured her, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "Because you're making it happen."

If I was going to be truthful to myself right now, I really didn't care about the wedding beyond how it would look to others. I wasn't counting down the days like she was. To me, it was just another milestone, another step toward solidifying the life I wanted—the life I deserved.

As Bethany continued talking, I found myself tuning her out, my thoughts drifting back to Danielle. The thrill of being inside of her, sneaking around with her while I was still engaged to Bethany, having her understand me fully, it was intoxicating. And if only she was the right match, I'd be getting married to her instead. But she wasn't, so here we were.

I snapped back to reality when I heard Bethany say my name.

"Mason?"

"Sorry," I murmured.

"Jeez, what exactly is going on in your head? You're spacing out." She frowned.

"I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you," I lied, grinning at her. At this point, lying had become a second nature for me.

Her face softened, and she reached for my hand again. "I'm lucky too."

I smiled, the practiced expression coming on easily. If she noticed the distance in my eyes, she didn't say anything.

"So are you coming to mom's tonight?" She asked, closing her sketchbook and focusing on me.

I took a sip of my coffe and then breathed in deeply, looking at her. "What's going on at your mom's?" I asked, raising a brow and watched her expression fall.

"You can't seriously mean that you don't remember?" She breathed out, her eyes narrowing.

I intertwined my fingers and feigned an exasperated sigh. "Remember what Beth?"

"I sent you a text reminding you last night that we have dinner at my mom's today. And you read it, and now you're saying you don't remember?" She scoffed, leaning back on her seat and crossing her arms.

"Oh, I…" I sighed, taking my phone out and pretending to read a text on it. "I'm sorry, baby, I have to leave. Work stuff."

"Are you coming this evening or not?" She demanded.

"I can't make it. I have to work," I replied her, getting up from the chair and crossing over to her seat. I kissed her on the forehead and on her lips, ignoring the hurt in her eyes. "I love you ok? I'll talk to you later. Let me know how things go at your mom's."

And with that, I left the restaurant.

***

Danielle walked out of the bathroom stark naked, heading towards me with a glass of wine in hand. She stretched it to me and then curled up next to me on the couch.

"You're distracted," she said, tracing a finger along my jawline.

"Just work," I lied, leaning in to kiss her.

She didn't press, which was one of the things I liked about her. Danielle didn't ask questions or demand answers. She was the perfect antidote to the downs of my life with Bethany.

"I missed you so much," she murmured quietly, pressing her body against mine.

I dropped the glass after taking a sip, and wrapped my hand around her waist, pulling her on top of me.

I kissed her, sliding my tongue into her mouth and ignoring the small voice in the back of my mind whispering to me that I was playing a dangerous game.