Chapter 6
822words
I cleared out the junk, made up the bed with fresh linens, and scrubbed the place from top to bottom.
Contract marriage or not, basic hospitality seemed important.
I checked the time: 8:50.
Would he be punctual?
How much luggage would he bring? His place was tiny—he probably didn't own much, right?
As these thoughts swirled through my mind, the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
Luke Shaw stood at my threshold.
He'd traded the waiter's uniform for a simple black T-shirt and faded jeans. On anyone else, it would have been unremarkable. On him, with his perfect physique, it looked like designer streetwear.
His hair was slightly damp, a few strands falling across his forehead, softening his stern features.
“Morning,” he said, his voice carrying that particular morning roughness that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.
“M-morning,” I stammered, stepping aside. “Come in.”
That's when I noticed his “luggage.”
It was pathetically sparse.
Just a worn black backpack. Nothing else.
This was moving in?
He caught my surprise and explained simply: “Lease was up. Got rid of everything else.”
I managed an “Oh,” feeling an unexpected pang in my chest.
I showed him to the spare room. “It's not very big,” I said apologetically.
He glanced around before setting his backpack on the chair.
“It's perfect,” he said. “Bigger than my last place.”
I knew he was being honest, which somehow made me feel worse.
“I'll let you settle in. I'll get you some water,” I said, fleeing the room.
I was afraid if I stayed longer, I'd start asking questions I had no right to ask. How had he been living? What was his story?
When I returned with the water, he'd already “settled in.”
His backpack lay open, revealing a few neatly folded clothes and what appeared to be an old wooden box.
That was it. His entire worldly possessions.
“So,” he said, standing up. “What's next?”
I blinked, realizing he was asking about our game plan.
The man never lost sight of his “job.”
I cleared my throat, trying to sound businesslike. “Melissa and her cronies will investigate you thoroughly. Starting today, you live here. To the outside world, we're normal newlyweds. I'll use my shares to cover my mother's treatment. Once that's settled, our agreement…”
I found myself unable to finish the sentence.
He finished for me: “Ends. We divorce. I take the money and leave.”
Something sharp twisted in my chest.
“Right,” I nodded, pushing away the unexpected discomfort. “That's it.”
“Understood,” he said. “What kind of husband should I be?”
His face remained impassive, but I could have sworn I saw a glint of amusement in those dark eyes.
I stammered, caught off guard: “Just… normal. Loving in public, business partners in private. We don't interfere with each other's lives.”
“Understood,” he nodded. “Though 'Miss Sullivan' seems inappropriate for our current relationship.”
“Then… what should I call you?”
He stepped closer.
One step was all it took to make me acutely aware of our height difference. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
He looked down at me, his lips barely moving as he said:
“Evie.”
The way he said it—low and intimate—sent an electric current straight through me.
“That's what your stepmother calls you,” he stated matter-of-factly, instantly dousing the moment. “If we're going to sell this, details matter. In private, call me Luke. In public, something more… appropriate.”
His logic was impeccable. I couldn't argue.
“Like… like what?” My tongue suddenly felt too big for my mouth.
“Your choice. 'Honey'? 'Babe'?” He offered these options with a perfectly straight face.
“…”
I hadn't hired a contract husband—I'd summoned a demon.
Seeing my mortified expression, he finally relented.
“We'll figure it out later.” He turned away, retrieving the wooden box from his backpack and placing it carefully on the nightstand, handling it like a priceless artifact.
Curiosity burned through me, but instinct warned me not to ask.
"What's your next move?" he asked.
At the shift to business matters, I straightened up, pushing aside my scattered thoughts.
“I'm heading to the company today. First, I'll announce our marriage and formally activate my mother's will provisions to take control of my 10% stake. Then I need to audit the books. Sullivan Group was my mother's creation, but under my father and Melissa's management, it's been tanking. I'm certain they're cooking the books.”
“Should I come with you?” he asked.
I blinked in surprise, then shook my head. “No. Your presence would complicate things. Better to keep you in reserve for now. Stay here and wait for my call. And don't open the door for anyone—no matter who it is.”
Was I actually giving him instructions?
The realization startled me.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Understood.”
