12. Amara
Chapter twelve
Amara
I must be dreaming, because Nicholas—my boss—did not just say what I think he just said.
“Excuse me?”
“Move in with me, he repeats, his voice firm. I blink, wondering if this is a joke, or if I’m hallucinating, my brain refusing to believe it. But Nicholas’s face remains still.
I shake my head, laughing nervously. “This is crazy.”
“You living here is crazy,” he counters, his gaze scanning my tiny apartment, his brows furrowing. “This place isn’t safe for you to stay in, Amara. Especially not after tonight.”
“What does tonight have to do with anything?”
“Our engagement announcement,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “Tonight, we made it official that we’re engaged. That you’re mine.” Those simple words—that shouldn’t mean much—cause the air to get stuck in my lungs. “After today, you’ll be as much a public figure as I am, which means everyone’s eyes will be on you. Always.”
My body stiffens at the thought, his words sinking in.
“If people find out you live here,” he continues, his voice quieter now, as if the words themselves pain him. “That the wife of a billionaire lives here…”
“Fiancée,” I correct quickly. “It won’t get as far as marriage,” I remind him, shaking my head. “No one will care, Nicholas.”
“You’re wrong.” His voice deepens, his frustration evident as he takes a step closer, the only thing between us being the couch. “I care, Amara,” he says, his eyes meeting mine, dark and intense. “And I can’t, in good conscience, let you stay here.”
“Nicholas, this is absurd.” I shake my head. “I’ve already taken so much from you. A payout, a promotion…” My hand brushes the silky fabric of the dress he bought me. “This dress.”
“It’s all yours, Amara.” His voice softens. “All of it. The dress, the promotion, the empty guest room in my penthouse. Take it,” he urges. “It’s yours for the taking.”
“I can’t,” I murmur, shaking my head. It feels like one too many favors, one too many handouts, and I refuse to take advantage of him.
“I’m not taking no for an answer.” His jaw tightens. “I’m not leaving you here.”
“You don’t need to do that, Nicholas. None of this was part of the contract.”
A moment of silence passes between us as Nicholas makes his way past the couch, approaching me. The air feels thicker, the apartment feels smaller as he towers over me. “No,” he agrees, his body so close I can smell his cologne. “But you work for me, and that makes you my responsibility. You’re my assistant. My fiancée ,” he adds, and there’s an emphasis on the word that makes my heart flutter unexpectedly. “And I take care of what’s mine.”
His words send an unexpected shiver down my spine, and I suck in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the butterflies stirring in my stomach, wondering—hoping—that his words mean more, even though I know better.
But despite my better judgement, I glance at his lips, remembering the way they felt against mine earlier. The heat of his kiss, his control as he slid his tongue against mine, taking what he wanted…
I snap myself out of it, shaking my head. “I can’t just move. I already paid the lease for a year.”
He shrugs. “I’ll take care of that.”
“My things are all here,” I tell him. “My cat—”
“I love cats,” he cuts me off.
I blink. “You can’t be serious.”
He rubs the back of his neck, his usual smirk widening. “Okay, so I’ve never actually had a cat, but how bad could it be?”
“Pumpkin doesn’t like men,” I warn, still not sure if I’m seriously entertaining this. “She hated my ex.” Liam couldn’t stand her, and the feeling was mutual. Pumpkin would claw at his face any chance she got. Maybe she knew he was a piece of shit before I did.
“Good thing I’m not him.”
Yeah. Really good thing.
“You’re my fiancée, Amara,” he says again. He doesn’t say the word fake . Not once. Maybe it’s because we both know the deal, and he doesn’t mean anything else by it, but hearing it does something to me I can’t explain. “You’re living with me, and that’s the end of that.”
I glance around my apartment. Small. Cramped. So dreary and depressing it feels like it might cave in on itself any moment. I think about his penthouse, the clean, pristine sheets he must have on the bed— god, a real bed —and let out a sigh, my shoulders sagging.
“Okay.”
Nicholas smiles, just the slightest lift of his lips, and nods. “Get your things,” he orders. “I’ll wait.”
“Now?” I ask, my eyes widening.
He nods. “I’m not letting you sleep here. The thought of you staying in this place…” His jaw tightens, like he’s physically restraining himself. “Get the essentials, and I can send someone back for the rest.”
I nod, taking a step toward the cracked leather armchair piled with clothes. I grab a bag and start stuffing it with whatever I can—my toothbrush, a few shirts, some toiletries.
Pumpkin’s claws dig into my leg, and I glance down to see her hissing at Nicholas, backing away like he’s the devil incarnate.
“This is Pumpkin?” he guesses, raising an eyebrow at my cat, who’s now glaring at him.
“Yeah, sorry,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I warned you. She doesn’t like men. My ex used to kick her out of the bed because she liked to sleep in the bed with me, and… well, let’s just say Pumpkin holds a grudge.”
“I think I’m siding with Pumpkin,” he replies with a smirk that makes my legs feel like jelly. Or maybe it’s the champagne.
“Got everything?” he asks, gesturing to the two bulging trash bags I’m holding.
“Yeah, I think…” I glance around one more time, my eyes landing on a pile of old shirts in the corner. The ones I haven’t worn in years. The ones I’ve kept as a stupid reminder of my college days. I hesitate, then leave them behind. I don’t need them anymore. I haven’t been that size since Liam and I first got together. He used to tell me to hold onto them, to use them as ‘motivation’.
I suck in a breath at the painful reminder. How did I not see the signs sooner?
When Pumpkin hisses again, my thoughts are pulled away, seeing Nicholas take a step back from her.
“I think it’s best if I take the bags, and you take the cat,” Nicholas offers, grabbing the heavy bags from my hands before I can even protest.
I chuckle in agreement as he heads out of the apartment.
An hour later, we pull up to what I can only assume is Nicholas’s place as the car stops in front of an impressive, towering building.
The door opens and Nicholas is standing in front of me, reaching out his hand. My lips curl into a smile and I stretch out my hand, but the moment my hand touches his, Pumpkin claws at his palm.
“Christ.” Nicholas lets out a chuckle, yanking his hand back. “I think I spoke too soon on the loving cats statement.”
I chuckle softly as I step out of the car. “Regret asking me to move in yet?” I tease, watching him out of the corner of my eye.
His gaze doesn’t waver from mine, and a smirk creeps across his lips. “Not even a little.”
Before I can reply, Nicholas grabs the bags from the trunk and heads toward the entrance.
I glance around, my eyes widening at the sight. Even the neighborhood is a world apart from mine. The streets are clean, the buildings tall and modern, glowing in the city lights like something out of a movie.
When we step inside, it’s like stepping into another dimension. The space is huge, and everything is so sleek and elegant it almost makes me dizzy. The marble floors shine beneath us, and the air smells fresh, free of the musty odor my apartment had.
I can’t help but stare in awe, glancing toward the huge spiral staircase in the center of the entrance, four elevators lined up beside it.
I don’t even realize I’m stood in the middle of the building, just staring, until I see Nicholas approaching from the concierge. “Ready to go up?” he asks.
I nod as I follow him to the elevator. He taps his keycard, and the elevator hums to life, the doors sliding shut.
The ride up is short, and before I know it, the elevator doors open. Nicholas gestures for me to step out, and I do, my breath hitching when I catch sight of his penthouse.
“This is where you live?” I ask him, unable to keep the wonder out of my voice.
I turn to face him, and my breath catches as he shrugs off his suit jacket, revealing a crisp white shirt that hugs his body in a way that makes my heart skip a beat.
Why is he so ridiculously attractive? And why can’t I look away?
I glance down at Pumpkin, who’s still curled up in my arms. Her wide eyes are locked on Nicholas, and without thinking, I cover her eyes with my hand.
“You’re too young for that,” I whisper when she paws at my hands, meowing in protest.
“Where we live,” Nicholas corrects, his eyes flicking to mine.
“At least for the next three months,” I remind him.
He nods in agreement. “And when this is done between us,” he continues, “I’ll make sure to find you somewhere decent to live. Somewhere that doesn’t look like a crime scene.”
I sigh. “Nicholas, that is—”
“Very necessary,” he interrupts, voice tight.
Our eyes lock for a second, and I swallow down my words, knowing there’s no use in arguing with him.
He gestures toward the hallway. “Why don’t I show you to your room?” he asks. “You must be tired.”
I nod, still caught in this weird dream-state, half-expecting someone to pinch me and snap me out of it.
Nicholas leads me down the hall and opens a door to a room so massive, I nearly choke on my own spit. It’s ten times bigger than my entire apartment.
“This is the guest bedroom?” I ask, blinking in disbelief.
He nods. “The other is down the hall, which I turned into an office.” Pulling something out of his pocket, he holds it out to me. “This is your key card. It’s how you’ll get in and out of here.”
I reach out and take it, feeling the smooth material of the card between my fingers. God , even the key card feels expensive.
“I already talked to the concierge and let them know you’ll be staying here,” he tells me. “And don’t be surprised if you see a cleaner in the morning. She usually comes when I’m at work, but you might still catch her.”
I nod, my mind still trying to catch up with everything that’s happening.
He presses his lips into a thin line. “If you need anything, my bedroom is right down the hall.”
I nod again, unable to do anything but nod like an idiot.
“Goodnight, Amara.” His voice is thick and gruff, causing a chill to creep up my spine.
“Goodnight, Nicholas.”
He nods, dipping his chin before he turns around and walks toward his bedroom, the door closing a few seconds later.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at the king-sized bed. The crisp white sheets and the plush pillows calling my name.
“Welcome to your new home, Pumpkin,” I whisper.
Pumpkin jumps from my arms, strutting toward the bed and purrs as she stretches out, curling into the middle of the mattress, making herself comfortable without a second thought.
At least someone’s adjusting to the luxury faster than I am.