Chapter 21
LANEY
F loor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around Sterling’s penthouse, the building itself seemingly a tribute to glass and steel. I stood in front of the wall of windows in his living room, staring out at the city shimmering in the morning haze.
The view was panoramic and gorgeous, like I was on a mountaintop. Bridges stretched like ribbons across the bay. Tiny boats dotted the water. Traffic snaked along the streets below, but up here, it was so silent that I could hear myself breathing.
Sterling’s place was pretty much exactly what I’d expected—beautiful, impressive, and cold. Gray countertops. Black leather couches. Minimalist trimmings that probably cost more than the entire last renovation we’d done at the store.
It was modern and masculine, sterile and controlled. It wasn’t a home. Certainly not a place I’d be able to flop down on the couch with a glass of wine after a long day at work and definitely not the kind of environment I’d want to bring a baby back to from the hospital.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I stared out at the world, wondering how it was possible to feel so removed from it all while being able to see everything going on. Behind me, Sterling’s voice echoed faintly as he finished up a call in his office.
Honestly, I didn’t know when this guy slept.
He’d mentioned still having a few more meetings to attend over Zoom last night after he’d dropped me off.
He’d sent Steve to collect me this morning.
When I’d asked about it, he’d told me Sterling apologized, but that he’d been attending meetings from his home office since five a.m.
I never thought I’d meet anyone who kept rougher hours than my dad, but it seemed like I’d managed just that. Despite everything going on between us, I hadn’t really even been able to speak to my dad since the fight.
A few texts. One missed call. A one-word reply to my last “just checking in.”
I hated it, but I’d made this choice. I’d made my bed and now I had to sleep in it.
Just not in Sterling’s bed.
At the thought, I felt his presence coming up behind me with the same kind of intensity in the air as a thunderstorm approaching.
I spun away from the view to see him striding back into the room.
He’d been here a few minutes ago, but only to say hi.
Moments later, his phone had rung and he’d had to run again.
He walked toward me with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his toned forearms on display.
Weirdly, his feet were bare and somehow it humanized him.
Made him seem almost endearing. He held a mug of coffee in one hand like it was a prop in a magazine shoot, and he didn’t look tired.
He didn’t even look overwhelmed or nervous about having me in his space.
“Come on,” he said, tilting his head toward the hall. “Let me show you around.”
I followed without a word when he spun around and started walking. Our first stop on the tour was a guest room with my bags already lined up in front of a huge, walk-in closet.
“This is yours,” he said. “As I’m sure you’ve already realized.”
I gave him a swift nod. “My bags are here, so…”
Trailing off, I brushed past him into the space that would be mine for the next three-hundred and sixty-three days. It was neutral and spotless, with more gray for the bedding, the blinds, and the walls. At least it also had a killer view.
There was an en-suite bathroom, fully stocked with high-end toiletries I’d never even heard of. Hangers were spaced out in the closet like they were allergic to each other.
All of it temporarily mine.
“Let’s continue the tour.” Sterling checked the chunky silver and black watch on his wrist and brought those icy blue eyes back to mine. “You’ll have more than enough time to settle in later.”
Reluctantly following him out, I was blown away by the sheer size of the penthouse. I’d always thought they had to be pretty small, but he had six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, and a master suite he hadn’t even shown me, but I assumed it would be like an apartment all on its own.
When we looped back to the open-concept kitchen and living area with the three-sixty-degree views, I noticed the dining table tucked into a corner was covered with folders. Thick ones, bound and labeled. A sleek laptop waited beside them, gleaming like a silent invitation.
Sterling gestured to the folders. “These are yours.”
I blinked. “Mine?”
“They contain all the information about your accounts, trusts, and new business registrations. One of those is your financial overview.” He paused, but it wasn’t for dramatic effect.
It looked like he was doing it more for my benefit since he only spoke again once I refocused on him.
“You now have five million dollars in personal capital, legally untouchable by me or my family. It’s all outlined in there. ”
I sat down slowly, fingertips brushing the edge of one folder. “Right.”
Five . Million . Dollars. There had been a time I’d counted quarters at the laundromat and cried when a delivery of organic baby skincare products had been delayed because I hadn’t been able to afford the premium shipping.
And now this.
I swallowed hard. “So this is real, then.”
“It’s been real since Saturday.”
My stomach fluttered, and not in a good way, but I looked up at him anyway, needing to know if that other part was real too. “And LA? The storefront for our second location? Have you signed the lease?”
“I received the necessary paperwork.” His jaw flexed slightly. “We’re still doing market research, though. I have people looking into the trends. It’s not off the table, but it’s not an immediate priority.”
My fingers curled around the edge of the tabletop. “It is for me.”
He watched me closely, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Probably running calculations behind those calm, blue eyes. “All in good time. It’s part of the agreement, but the timing matters. You know that.”
I nodded, but just because I knew that didn’t mean I had to like it. A silence settled between us in the aftermath of the conversation. It was so thick that I could feel it pressing down on me.
Since it was Monday morning, I needed to get to work soon, but I cleared my throat. “There’s something else we should talk about before we go our separate ways for the day.”
His gaze sharpened immediately. “The baby.”
I nodded again and Sterling moved toward the table, leaning a hip against the edge, arms folded, but not tightly. “I’ve looked into clinics. You can pick whichever one you want.”
So straightforward. So clinical .
It wasn’t that I hadn’t expected it. We’d agreed to this, after all, but now that we were here in this glass fortress of a home that we would be sharing, I felt small and not entirely human.
I hadn’t spoken to my dad. Hadn’t had the opportunity to break the news of our marriage to my employees, who I was sure would be overrun by questions as soon as word got out.
I definitely didn’t feel ready for intrauterine insemination. I ran my palm over the smooth surface of the table. “I think maybe we should wait a few weeks.” Sterling didn’t react, so I added, “Let the shock cool down.”
I almost added, Let me breathe. Let me figure out what this version of my life even looks like.
After a moment of thinking it over, he nodded. “That’s fine. Tell me when you’re ready and which clinic you’d like to go to, and I’ll set up an appointment.”
Just like that, the pressure in my chest released by a fraction. I was in his home now. In his world, but I wasn’t ready to give him everything yet, and thankfully, for now, he wasn’t asking for it.
All he did was stand there for a beat, his face completely unreadable, like someone had flipped a switch inside him and dimmed the light. I waited for him to say more. Perhaps ask a question about how long I might need. Maybe a sigh, like he felt that I was reneging on our agreement. Anything.
Instead, he pushed away from the table and crossed to the kitchen counter, grabbing his phone and wallet. “If you want to change anything here, go ahead. Furniture, paint, rugs. Whatever. You have the black card. Use it.”
His tone was cold and so clipped that I blinked. “Wait. Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke. “Do whatever you want. You live here now.”
The chill settled in between us again, icy in a way it hadn’t been for the last couple days.
“Is something wrong?” I asked carefully.
He finally looked at me and something passed through his expression—a flicker of something like doubt. Or maybe disappointment, but it was gone before I could name it.
“No.” His voice was cool and polished. “I just have a meeting downtown.”
“Right.”
“I’ve asked Steve to take you to the store,” he said, already heading for the hall. “He’ll wait until you’re ready to come back.”
I didn’t ask if he’d be home for dinner. I didn’t ask anything at all. Sterling disappeared into the depths of his penthouse. I assumed to grab shoes and his jacket, but Steve appeared a moment later and asked if I was ready to go.
By noon, I needed to sweat out the awkward tension clinging to me like static and I ducked out of the store, walking to Gwen’s sleek Pilates studio that smelled like eucalyptus and ambition. The first thing she did when she saw me was grab me and pull me into her office.
“You look tense,” she said. “I take it move-in day didn’t go well.”
“Not really,” I said, noncommittal. “Not exactly.”
She arched a steep eyebrow at me. “How bad was it?”
I plopped down into the chair across from her desk and sighed. “Sterling flipped the switch inside him to off. Or something like that. I’m not sure, but yesterday, he was almost human. He laughed. He smiled. He even teased me about living in his gray fortress.”
“And now?” she prompted.
“Now he’s the Ice King again. Cold. Clipped. It’s like he just shuts down when anything happens that throws him off even a little. I don’t get it. We were in his space, we’re doing things on his terms, but everything was okay until it wasn’t.”
She tilted her head, thinking it over. “That actually makes sense. It’s probably his defense mechanism. His walls go up when he feels like he’s lost some control or when something doesn’t happen on his timeline.”
“Sure, but it felt like he actually liked me yesterday. Now I’m just another responsibility he needs to manage. Oh, and he also gave me a black card and told me to do whatever I want to his place.”
Gwen raised a brow. “He gave you a black card and told you to redecorate? Babe, that’s not nothing.”
I gave her a look. “Do not make this about the credit card.”
“That’s fine, I won’t,” she said, holding up both hands. “It’s day one though, Lane. You’re still figuring out how to share a zip code, let alone a life. Give it time. He could warm up.”
I snorted. “That’s highly unlikely, but even if it happens, what then? We fall in love and ride off into the sunset with our perfect little contract baby?”
She grinned. “Stranger things have happened.”
I laughed, but it didn’t reach all the way to my chest. Falling in love wasn’t part of the plan, and yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about that garden yesterday.
The way he’d looked at me when I came out to the gazebo with his mom, as if he’d known without asking that I needed a few minutes to breathe.
How he’d immediately acted upon that knowledge, sweeping me away and smiling when we’d spoken about his place versus his parents’.
Maybe those brief moments of warmth had been real. Maybe not.
But I was starting to understand that with Sterling Westwood, every layer I peeled back came with another sheet of armor beneath it. And love? Real love?
Right now, that just felt like the one thing neither of us knew how to handle.