Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Josie
Morning light paints Elliot's kitchen in shades of gold as I sip coffee from a mug that probably costs more than my electricity bill. The apartment is silent except for Barney's soft snores from his makeshift bed on the couch and the occasional car horn from the street below. Elliot left for an early meeting—something about briefing partners on the Harrison deal—with a quick kiss that felt almost normal, almost real. Like we're an actual couple who do normal morning things instead of two people who fell into each other through a bizarre fake engagement scheme. I run my fingers over the expensive marble countertop, feeling like an imposter in this perfect space while simultaneously wondering if maybe, just maybe, I could belong here.
Last night replays in my mind—the intensity, the connection that went far beyond physical. The words I'd whispered into the darkness, laying my heart bare despite knowing Elliot wasn't ready to reciprocate. But he hadn't pulled away. Hadn't shut down. His admission that his feelings were real, even if he couldn't articulate them properly, felt like a breakthrough in the impenetrable wall of Elliot Carrington.
My phone buzzes on the counter, Mandy's name lighting up the screen. I hesitate before answering—explaining where I am and why I haven't come home will invite relentless teasing—but the prospect of avoiding her is worse. She'd probably send a search party, or worse, show up here herself.
"Good morning, traitor," I answer, aiming for casual. "I assume you're calling to see if I'm still alive after the fake engagement weekend from hell?"
"More like calling to see if you're coming home anytime this decade," Mandy replies. "Marco and I had a bet going on whether you'd return or run off to become a lawyer's trophy wife."
"I'm not—" I stop, unsure how to define exactly what I am to Elliot. "It's complicated."
"Ohmygod!" Mandy's voice rises to a pitch that makes me hold the phone away from my ear. "You slept with him! You totally slept with Money Bags! I want details—was it all controlled and scheduled? Did he make you fill out a consent form in triplicate first?"
"I'm not discussing this," I say, though I can't keep the smile from my voice. "Especially not while standing in his kitchen."
"You're in his KITCHEN?" Another octave higher. "So it wasn't just a one-night stand! This is serious!"
"I don't know what it is," I admit, moving to the living room windows that overlook the city. "But yes, I'm at his place. I'll be home later today, probably."
"Did he at least pay you first?" she asks, her tone shifting to something more practical. "The fifty grand?"
"He said it would be in my account by this morning." I check the time on the microwave—just past nine. "I should probably log in and check."
"You absolutely should." Mandy's voice takes on an urgency that reminds me of our precarious financial situation. "Marco talked to the landlord yesterday, and he's not budging on the eviction unless we pay up in full. Plus your student loan people called again."
Reality crashes back like a bucket of cold water. For a brief, lovely moment, I'd forgotten about the financial disaster awaiting me at home. About the real reason I agreed to this whole scheme in the first place.
"Right. I'll check now and transfer what we need for rent immediately." I grab my laptop from my bag, opening my banking app. "Oh my god."
"What? Is the money not there? I swear, if that suit stiffed you after all this?—"
"No, it's here." I stare at the balance—a number with more digits than I've ever seen in my account. "All of it. Exactly fifty thousand dollars."
"Holy shit," Mandy breathes. "That's life-changing money, Josie."
"I know." I sink onto the couch, still staring at the screen. "I can pay off the rent, catch up on my student loans, maybe even get a proper studio space..."
"And have a cushion for once in your life," Mandy adds. "No more ramen dinners or choosing between art supplies and electricity."
"It doesn't feel real." I shake my head, trying to process it. "This whole weekend, the money, Elliot…none of it feels real."
"Well, the money is definitely real. And from what you're not telling me, I'm guessing the sex was pretty real too." Mandy's voice turns more serious. "You like him. Like, actually like him, beyond the arrangement."
I sigh, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Yeah. I do. I told him last night."
"Told him what exactly?"
"That I'm falling for him." Just saying it out loud again makes my chest tight. "That it terrifies me, but it's happening anyway."
"Wow." Mandy sounds genuinely surprised. "What did he say?"
"Basically that he has feelings too but can't articulate them." I try to keep the disappointment from my voice. "Which, for Elliot, is actually pretty huge."
"So what happens now? With the money and everything?"
"I don't know." I pull up my student loan account, grimacing at the outstanding balance. "The money was the deal. Pretend to be his fiancée for the weekend, get fifty thousand dollars. That part is done. But what happened between us…that was never part of the plan."
"Are you going to use the money to pay everything off right away?"
"That was always the point," I remind her. "Get out of debt, stop the eviction, have a chance to actually focus on my art without constant financial panic. The fact that I accidentally fell for the guy who's making it possible is just…a really weird complication."
"But a good complication, right? I mean, he's rich, gorgeous according to your drunk texts, and apparently good enough in bed that you're still at his place."
I laugh despite myself. "There's more to him than that. He's…I don't know. Behind all that stiff lawyer facade, there's someone who feels things deeply. Someone who cares about doing things right, who remembers how I take my coffee, who ordered room service for my dog."
The sound of a key in the lock makes me freeze mid-sentence. "Mandy, I have to go. Elliot's back. I'll call you later about the rent money."
"Use protection!" she chirps before I can hang up. "Both for your heart and your?—"
I end the call just as the door opens, my cheeks burning at Mandy's parting comment. Elliot steps into the apartment, immaculate in a charcoal suit I haven't seen before, his expression unreadable.
"Hey," I say, setting my laptop aside. "You're back early. How was the meeting?"
He doesn't answer immediately, his gaze moving from me to the laptop to the phone in my hand. Something cold and distant has settled over his features, a mask I haven't seen since our initial meetings.
"The meeting was fine," he says finally, his voice carefully neutral. "The transfer went through?"
"Yes, just now." I gesture toward the laptop, confused by his tone. "Thank you. It's…it's going to make a huge difference."
He nods once, precise and professional. "Good. That was the agreement."
The formality in his voice makes something twist uneasily in my gut. This isn't the same man who held me last night, who whispered possessive words against my skin, who admitted his feelings were real even if he couldn't name them.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, standing. "You seem…different."
"Everything's fine." He loosens his tie slightly, a gesture that should be casual but somehow looks calculated. "I have a considerable amount of work to catch up on after being away for the weekend. And I'm sure you have things to attend to as well."
The dismissal is so polite, so professionally packaged, that it takes me a moment to recognize it for what it is. "Are you asking me to leave?"
"I'm merely acknowledging that our arrangement has concluded, and we both have lives to return to." He moves past me toward his home office, maintaining a careful distance that feels deliberate. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need to gather your things."
"Gather my things?" I repeat, following him. "Elliot, what's going on? Last night?—"
"Last night was a culmination of an intense weekend situation," he interrupts, not meeting my eyes. "Emotions were heightened. It's natural for boundaries to blur under such circumstances."
I feel like I've been slapped. "Boundaries to blur? Is that what you call what happened between us?"
"What would you call it?" he counters, finally looking at me with eyes so carefully empty it makes my chest ache. "A relationship? We've known each other less than a week, Josie."
"I'd call it real," I say, my voice smaller than I'd like. "I'd call it something worth exploring, at least."
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in a gesture I've come to recognize as his response to frustration. "I have a demanding career. A life that doesn't easily accommodate…complications."
"And I'm a complication." The words taste bitter. "Just like that, overnight, I've gone from someone you couldn't keep your hands off to an inconvenient complication."
"You're deliberately misrepresenting what I'm saying."
"Am I? Because it sounds like you got what you wanted—your contract signed, your night of fun—and now you're done with me."
His jaw tightens, the only sign that my words have any impact. "That's unfair and inaccurate."
"Then explain it to me, Elliot. What changed between last night and this morning?"
He turns away, straightening papers on his desk that don't need straightening. "Nothing changed. I simply had time to consider the situation rationally."
"Rationally," I repeat, the word like acid on my tongue. "God forbid we do anything based on feelings instead of your precious rational analysis."
"Emotions are not a sound basis for decision-making," he says, the words so clinical they might as well be from a textbook. "Especially not emotions generated under artificial circumstances like our arrangement."
I step back, the hurt transforming rapidly into anger. "There was nothing artificial about what happened between us, and you know it. You're just too scared to admit it."
"I'm not scared," he says, his voice finally showing a crack in the perfect control. "I'm realistic. We come from different worlds, Josie. We want different things."
"You don't know what I want," I snap, hurt making me reckless. "You never bothered to ask."
"I know you want your fifty thousand dollars," he says, the statement landing like a physical blow. "Which you now have."
The sudden cruelty stuns me into momentary silence. This isn't the Elliot I've come to know. This is someone else—cold, dismissive, deliberately hurtful.
"That's not fair," I finally manage. "You know that's not what this is about."
He shrugs, the gesture so casually dismissive it makes my eyes sting with threatening tears. "The arrangement is complete. The money has been transferred. There's no reason to complicate things further."
I stare at him, searching for any trace of the man who held me through the night, who whispered he was mine against my skin, who looked at me like I mattered. He's gone, replaced by this corporate automaton who won't even meet my eyes.
"Fine," I say, summoning what dignity I can. "I'll get my things and go."
It doesn't take long to gather my meager possessions—the clothes I'd worn yesterday, Barney's carrier, my toothbrush from his bathroom. Each item I collect feels like another piece of evidence that I never belonged here, that this was always temporary.
Elliot remains in his office, door firmly closed, while I pack. The coward can't even face me for a proper goodbye. By the time I'm ready to leave, anger has mostly given way to a hollow ache that settles beneath my ribs.
I consider leaving without another word. It would be easier, cleaner. But I can't. Not without one last attempt.
I knock on his office door. No response. I open it anyway.
He sits at his desk, staring at his computer screen with such focused intensity it's obviously fake. His shoulders are rigid, his posture perfect, every inch the controlled professional.
"I'm leaving," I announce, Barney's carrier in one hand, my bag in the other.
He nods without looking up. "I'll have a car brought around."
"I don't need your car." Pride is about all I have left. "I can take the subway."
"As you wish." Still not looking at me, still hiding behind his screen.
I wait, hoping desperately that he'll change his mind. That he'll look up, cross the room, tell me this was all a terrible misunderstanding. The seconds stretch painfully as he continues typing, the click of keys the only sound in the room.
"Goodbye, Elliot," I finally say, the words thick in my throat.
His typing pauses, just for a moment. "Goodbye, Josie."
And that's it. No explanation, no real goodbye, just four cold syllables that feel nothing like the man who'd whispered my name like a prayer mere hours ago.
I leave before the tears can fall, closing his door with deliberate care when what I really want is to slam it hard enough to crack the perfect paint job. The trip through his building passes in a blur—the elevator, the doorman's polite nod, the busy street outside.
It's only when I'm halfway to the subway that I realize I have no idea what happened. No understanding of how something that felt so real, so significant, could evaporate so completely in the span of a morning. How a man who'd touched me with such tenderness could turn so cold without explanation.
The subway car is crowded, forcing me to stand pressed between strangers, Barney's carrier clutched to my chest like a shield. My phone buzzes with a text from Mandy—something about the rent money—but I can't bring myself to look at it. Can't bear to think about the fifty thousand dollars sitting in my account, payment for a weekend that somehow became so much more and then, just as suddenly, nothing at all.
By the time I reach my stop, the hollow feeling has crystallized into something harder, sharper. If Elliot Carrington thinks he can dismiss me like some business transaction that's reached its conclusion, he's about to learn how very wrong he is. I may have been foolish enough to fall for him, but I'm not pathetic enough to let him treat me like this without consequences.
Once things become real, the money became secondary. But since it's apparently all he thinks I care about, maybe that's exactly what I should focus on. Get my life in order, pay my debts, make something of my art career.
And forget I ever met a blue-eyed lawyer with wounds he's too scared to acknowledge and feelings he's too cowardly to name.