Theo’s building wasn’t the kind of place you buzzed into. It was the kind of place that already knew you were coming.
The car slipped into an underground entrance lit by clean white strips that made everything look sharper than reality. The driver said nothing. Theo said even less.
Mira sat with her hands folded in her lap, the handkerchief now tucked into her clutch like a secret. Her chest still felt tight—aftershocks from the gala, from Ethan, from the kiss that had been too real for something that was supposed to be impulsive.
Theo led her into an elevator that opened without a button being pressed.
Mira’s eyebrows rose. “Do you have a bat-signal too?”
Theo’s mouth twitched. “Only on weekends.”
The elevator climbed in silence, soft music playing that sounded like it was designed not to exist. Mira watched Theo’s reflection in the mirrored wall. He looked composed—jacket off now, sleeves rolled to the forearm, hands relaxed at his sides.
She wondered what it took to rattle him.
The elevator opened into a private foyer.
Not an apartment. A *space*. Warm wood, clean lines, huge windows revealing the city like a glittering circuit board. There was art on the walls that looked like it had been chosen by someone who didn’t need to explain it.
Theo stepped aside. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Mira walked in cautiously, as if she might set off alarms by existing. “This is…”
“Too much,” Theo finished.
Mira huffed a laugh. “Yes.”
Theo closed the door behind them. The click sounded final.
He moved toward a bar built into the far wall—glass shelves, bottles arranged with obsessive precision. “Whiskey again?”
Mira hesitated, then nodded. “A little.”
Theo poured with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times and never once spilled. He handed her a short glass.
Their fingers brushed.
Mira felt it like a spark.
Theo didn’t look away.
Mira took a sip and let it warm her from the inside. She exhaled. “Okay. Terms.”
Theo leaned one hip against the counter, posture loose but watchful. “We date. Publicly. You attend certain events with me. You meet my mother. You look at me like you’re not available.”
Mira arched a brow. “And I do that convincingly how, exactly?”
Theo’s gaze dipped—briefly—to her mouth again. “We practice.”
Heat skated down Mira’s spine. “Practice.”
Theo’s eyes lifted to hers, unapologetic. “If we’re going to convince anyone, it can’t look forced.”
Mira’s pulse jumped. She took another sip just to have something to do. “You mean… physical.”
“I mean,” Theo said, voice quieter, “we need to be comfortable enough with each other that it shows.”
Mira’s throat went dry. She thought of Ethan’s hand on that woman’s waist. Of the way he’d looked at Mira like she was inconvenient.
She thought of Theo’s hand at her lower back, steady and warm.
“What do I get out of this,” she asked again, more carefully, “besides revenge?”
Theo watched her a long moment. “Money.”
Mira almost choked. “Excuse me?”
Theo’s expression didn’t change. “Compensation for your time. If I’m asking you to disrupt your life, I’m not going to pretend it’s a favor.”
Mira set the glass down too hard. “I’m not for sale.”
Theo’s gaze sharpened. “I didn’t say you were. I’m offering a professional arrangement. We can write it down. You can have a lawyer review it. You can say no.”
Mira’s cheeks burned with anger and something else—fear, maybe, or pride. She hated that part of her wanted to say yes because it felt like a door opening out of a room she’d been suffocating in.
Theo softened, just slightly. “I’m not trying to buy you. I’m trying to make sure you don’t regret helping me.”
Mira swallowed. “And if I regret it anyway?”
Theo’s mouth tipped into a faint, dangerous smile. “Then you walk away.”
She searched his face for the catch. For manipulation. For the hidden hook.
All she saw was intent.
“Why don’t you just hire an actress?” Mira asked. “Someone who’s done this.”
Theo’s gaze held hers. “Because my mother would smell it.”
Mira snorted. “Your mother sounds terrifying.”
“She is,” Theo said without hesitation. “And she wants me married. Soon.”
Mira’s stomach twisted. “So this is to… buy time.”
Theo nodded. “To stop the introductions. To stop the assumptions.”
“And in return,” Mira said slowly, “you make sure Ethan regrets everything.”
Theo’s eyes went cold. “Yes.”
Mira didn’t miss the edge in that word.
She took another sip of whiskey, considering. “If we do this, there are boundaries.”
Theo lifted a brow. “Name them.”
Mira drew in a breath. “No lying to my job. I’m not risking my career for you.”
“Agreed,” Theo said immediately.
“No photos where I look drunk,” Mira continued. “I’m not giving anyone ammunition.”
Theo nodded once.
“And,” Mira added, voice catching slightly, “I don’t want pity. I’m not your charity project.”
Theo’s gaze softened, not pitying—understanding. “You’re not.”
Mira’s chest tightened. “Okay.”
Theo’s attention drifted over her face as if he were memorizing her. “One more thing.”
Mira braced. “What?”
Theo pushed off the counter and stepped closer. The space between them tightened, charged. He stopped a foot away, close enough that Mira could smell the whiskey on his breath, faint and smoky.
“If we’re doing this,” he said, “I won’t pretend the attraction isn’t there. It’s obvious.”
Mira’s lips parted.
Theo’s gaze dropped. “We need to decide if physical intimacy is part of the agreement.”
Mira’s heart slammed.
She heard her own voice, shaky but honest. “Is it for you?”
Theo met her eyes. “Yes.”
The simplicity of it made her stomach flip.
“And for you?” he asked.
Mira tried to be sensible. Tried to be the woman who didn’t make impulsive decisions in coatrooms.
But she could still feel his mouth on hers. The steadiness of his hands. The way he’d looked at Ethan like Ethan was dust.
Mira’s voice came out almost inaudible. “Yes.”
Theo exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath since the gala.
“Then,” he said, “we do it on purpose.”
Mira’s body went alert.
Theo lifted his hand, not touching her yet. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
Mira nodded once, throat tight.
Theo’s fingertips brushed her jaw, feather-light. He tilted her face up, his touch careful despite the heat in his eyes.
His mouth met hers again—slower than in the coatroom, but deeper in intention. This wasn’t rage-kissing.
This was decision.
Mira’s hands rose to his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the shirt. Theo’s body shifted closer. His other hand settled at her waist, anchoring her.
Mira made a soft sound against his mouth and felt his answering exhale, warm and rough.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “You’re trembling.”
Mira laughed weakly. “You’re not.”
Theo’s lips brushed the corner of hers. “I’m trembling where you can’t see.”
That sent a jolt through her, sharp and electric.
She swallowed. “What does practice look like to you?”
Theo’s eyes held hers. “Tonight, it looks like learning what makes you react. What makes you relax. What makes you *want*.”
Mira’s breath hitched. The bluntness should have startled her.
Instead, it steadied something inside her—like she didn’t have to guess.
Theo guided her backward, step by step, until her knees bumped the edge of a low sofa.
He didn’t push. He waited.
Mira sat, pulse loud in her ears.
Theo stood over her for a moment, looking down with that calm intensity that made her feel both safe and exposed.
Then he crouched in front of her, bringing his face level with hers, and kissed her again.
Mira’s fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly. Theo made a quiet sound—approval, maybe—and deepened the kiss.
His hand moved to her knee, resting there through the silk of her dress, warm and steady. He didn’t push higher. He didn’t rush.
He simply held contact, as if he was teaching her body that touch didn’t have to be taken—it could be offered.
Mira’s eyes stung again, but she blinked it away.
Theo pulled back slightly. “What are you thinking?”
Mira swallowed. “That I shouldn’t be here.”
Theo’s thumb stroked her knee. “And what are you feeling?”
Mira’s voice shook. “That I want to be.”
Theo’s gaze went darker, satisfaction and something gentler underneath it. “Then stay.”
He rose smoothly and held out his hand.
Mira stared at it, remembering the first time: handkerchief, flask, calm voice in the dark.
She put her hand in his.
Theo pulled her up, then leaned in and kissed her once more—brief, decisive.
“I’m going to draft the contract,” he said, voice low. “You’ll have time to read it. To change it. To walk.”
Mira nodded. “Okay.”
Theo’s fingers tightened around hers. “But tonight—”
He paused, eyes on her mouth again.
Mira’s breath caught. “Tonight what?”
Theo’s smile was faint and dangerous. “Tonight, I want you to forget him.”
Mira’s body responded before her brain could. She stepped closer.
Theo’s hand slid to the back of her neck.
The kiss that followed wasn’t frantic. It was thorough—like he had all the time in the world and intended to use it.
Mira melted into him, letting herself be guided. Theo’s hands moved with intention: her waist, her back, her shoulders. He coaxed rather than took.
When his mouth left hers and traced along her jaw, Mira shivered.
He murmured against her skin, “Tell me what you want.”
Mira’s hands fisted in his shirt. Her voice came out raw. “You.”
Theo stilled, then lifted his head and looked at her with a focus that made her feel like the only person alive.
“Then we’ll start there,” he said.
He led her toward a hallway lined with soft light, and Mira followed, heart hammering—not with fear, but with the dizzy, terrifying relief of wanting something and not apologizing for it.
The door to his bedroom opened on quiet luxury—dark sheets, a wall of windows, the city glittering like it was watching.
Theo turned to her. “Last chance.”
Mira’s throat worked. She thought of Ethan’s text. Of his voice calling her dramatic.
She stepped forward and put both hands on Theo’s chest.
“Not a chance,” she whispered.
Theo’s eyes flashed.
He kissed her again—and this time, Mira kissed back like she was taking her life back one breath at a time.
***