A Dangerous Line

The next morning, Emma woke to the scent of coffee drifting through the penthouse.

She stretched, her body still heavy with exhaustion from the previous night's gala. Everything still felt surreal.

The fake engagement.

The new set of rules.

The way Alexander had looked at her in the dark, his voice laced with something almost broken when he said, "Love is a weakness."

Emma pushed the thoughts away and got out of bed.

She wasn't here to understand Alexander Westwood.

She was here to survive him.

—

Breakfast and Bargains

By the time she entered the kitchen, Alexander was already there, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his strong forearms resting on the marble countertop as he read through the morning news on his tablet.

He looked like a man who controlled the world before breakfast.

Emma cleared her throat. "Morning."

He glanced up briefly. "Morning."

His tone was neutral, unreadable. Back to business.

Fine. That was better.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat across from him.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then—

"I have a business trip next weekend."

Emma blinked. "Okay?"

"You're coming with me."

She nearly choked on her coffee. "What?"

Alexander didn't even look up from his tablet. "The press will expect it. A newly engaged couple wouldn't spend time apart."

Emma frowned. "Where are we going?"

"Italy."

She stared at him.

Italy.

Just like that.

"I've never been to Italy," she admitted.

He finally looked up, studying her expression. "You'll like it."

Emma wasn't sure what to say to that.

Was he trying to be nice? Or was this just another part of the act?

Either way, she had no choice.

She was his fiancée now—at least, in the public eye.

"Fine," she muttered. "I'll pack."

A flicker of something amused crossed his eyes before he went back to his tablet.

Emma took a sip of her coffee, ignoring the strange feeling in her chest.

—

An Unwelcome Guest

Later that afternoon, Emma had just stepped out of the shower when she heard the sharp sound of heels clicking against the marble floors outside her bedroom.

Then—

A knock.

A sharp, impatient knock.

Frowning, she wrapped her robe around herself and opened the door.

Her stomach dropped.

Victoria Hayes.

Emma barely had time to react before the woman pushed past her, stepping into the room as if she owned it.

Emma scowled. "You can't just barge in here."

Victoria ignored her, crossing her arms. "We need to talk."

Emma let out a slow breath. She had no energy for this. "If this is about Alexander—"

"Of course, it's about Alexander," Victoria cut in, her eyes flashing with irritation. "I need you to understand something, Emma. You may have a ring on your finger, but you don't belong in his world."

Emma refused to let Victoria see the small sting of her words.

Instead, she smiled coldly. "And yet, here I am."

Victoria's jaw tightened. "This won't last. He doesn't let anyone get close, especially not someone like you."

Emma's heart pounded, but she kept her expression neutral. "Someone like me?"

Victoria tilted her head. "A girl with nothing. No connections. No power. You think he's going to marry you for real?"

Emma swallowed hard.

She knew this was a contract.

She knew she and Alexander were just pretending.

But hearing it from Victoria made something in her twist uncomfortably.

"Whatever this is," Victoria continued, stepping closer, "it's temporary. And when it's over, don't expect him to care about you."

Emma forced herself to meet her gaze head-on.

"I don't expect anything from him."

Victoria studied her for a moment before smirking. "Good. Because you'll get nothing."

And with that, she turned and walked out, her heels clicking against the floor.

Emma let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

She should have brushed it off.

It was nothing she didn't already know.

But then why did it feel like something inside her had just cracked?

—

A Heated Confrontation

That evening, Emma found Alexander in his office, standing by the window with a whiskey in hand.

He barely glanced at her. "What is it?"

Emma crossed her arms. "Victoria was here today."

That got his attention.

His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unreadable. "What did she say?"

Emma exhaled. "That I don't belong in your world. That this won't last. That I'll get nothing from you in the end."

Silence.

Then—

"She's right."

Emma's breath hitched.

For some reason, she hadn't expected him to say that.

Something in her chest tightened painfully.

She forced out a small, bitter laugh. "Wow. You don't even try to lie, do you?"

Alexander's eyes darkened. "You knew what this was from the start, Emma."

She clenched her fists. "I know. But maybe you could have at least pretended to disagree."

A muscle in his jaw tensed.

He took a slow step forward, his presence overwhelming.

"I don't pretend," he murmured. "You, of all people, should know that by now."

Emma's heart pounded.

He was too close.

His scent—a mix of expensive cologne and something distinctly him—wrapped around her, making it impossible to think.

She swallowed hard. "Right. No pretending. Only rules."

His gaze dropped to her lips.

For a single, charged moment—

Everything felt different.

The air between them crackled, heavy with something neither of them dared to name.

Then—

Alexander stepped back.

Just like that, the moment was gone.

"Go to bed, Emma," he said, his voice controlled once again.

Emma stared at him for a long moment before finally turning away.

She had known what she was getting into when she signed that contract.

She had known that Alexander Westwood didn't do emotions.

But for the first time—

She wasn't sure if she could keep herself from crossing the line.