Morning brought consequences.
Not regret—Mira didn’t wake with the sour dread she’d expected—but the sharp awareness that she was in a stranger’s bed in a stranger’s penthouse with the city sun pouring in like it owned the place.
Theo lay on his back beside her, sheet low on his waist, one forearm over his eyes as if light was an adversary he’d fought before. His hair was messier than it had been last night.
Mira’s body felt… warm. Heavy in a good way. A little tender. Not broken.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
She didn’t know if it was from the memory of being held with such deliberate care, or the abrupt realization that she’d spent years accepting far less.
Theo lowered his arm and looked at her.
His gaze was alert immediately—no groggy blinking, no confusion. Just focus.
“Good morning,” he said, voice rough.
Mira pulled the sheet up to her collarbone by instinct. “Hi.”
Theo’s eyes flicked over her face. “Are you okay?”
Mira hesitated. Then she nodded. “Yes.”
Theo didn’t look relieved—he looked like he’d expected honesty and got it. He shifted, propping himself on an elbow. “Do you want coffee?”
Mira’s lips twitched. “You’re a billionaire. I assume coffee appears if you look at the wall long enough.”
Theo’s mouth curved. “Close.”
He got out of bed and moved toward a door Mira hadn’t noticed last night—another suite beyond, probably. Mira watched the line of his back and tried not to think about how quickly her brain wanted to catalog him.
*Stop it,* she told herself. *This is an arrangement.*
Still—she couldn’t ignore the way last night had felt like more than revenge. More than practice.
Theo returned ten minutes later with a tray: coffee, fruit, toast, something green that looked too healthy to be legal.
Mira blinked. “You made this?”
Theo set it on the bed with efficient grace. “The kitchen did. I supervised.”
Mira sat up, still clutching the sheet like a shield, and took the coffee.
The first sip was perfect—strong, slightly sweet, not burned. She let out a small sigh and immediately hated that it sounded like contentment.
Theo watched her with a faint, satisfied look.
“Don’t,” Mira said.
Theo lifted a brow. “Don’t what?”
“Look like you’re proud of yourself.”
Theo’s smile deepened. “I’m not proud. I’m… pleased.”
Mira rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the warmth in her cheeks.
Theo’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at it, expression shifting into something cooler. “My mother.”
Mira’s stomach tightened.
Theo met her eyes. “If you want to leave now, you can.”
Mira’s fingers tightened around her mug. “And if I don’t?”
Theo’s gaze held hers. “Then we start today.”
Mira swallowed. “What does that mean?”
Theo reached to the nightstand and picked up a slim folder—black, understated, with no logo.
He handed it to her.
Mira took it carefully, as if it might bite.
“Contract,” Theo said. “Draft one.”
Mira stared down at it. “You actually did it.”
“I said I would.” His voice softened slightly. “Read it. Mark it up. Tell me what you hate.”
Mira opened the folder.
The paper inside was crisp, the text clean and precise.
**REYES SYSTEMS — PERSONAL SERVICES AGREEMENT** was the header.
Mira’s stomach flipped. “Personal services.”
Theo’s mouth twitched. “My lawyer has no sense of romance.”
Mira’s eyes scanned.
There were sections for term length (three months with an option to extend), confidentiality, appearances, social media guidelines, compensation (a number that made Mira’s coffee taste like panic), and a clause that made her blink twice:
**Physical Intimacy: Optional. By Mutual Consent Only. Either Party May Revoke Consent at Any Time Without Penalty.**
Mira’s throat tightened at the blunt decency of it. “This is… oddly respectful.”
Theo’s gaze sharpened. “It’s not odd. It’s required.”
Mira looked up at him. “You really do this like business.”
Theo’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes softened. “It’s safer this way.”
“For you?”
“For both of us,” he said.
Mira stared down again.
There was a line about public displays of affection: hand-holding, kissing, touch. Guidelines. Boundaries. The language was clinical, but the meaning was clear.
Mira’s mind replayed last night anyway—his mouth, his hands, the way he’d asked before moving, the way he’d listened.
She swallowed. “Your mother will believe this?”
Theo’s gaze went distant, calculation returning. “She’ll believe what she sees. And what she wants to see.”
Mira frowned. “Which is?”
Theo’s mouth flattened. “That I finally did what she’s been insisting I do—commit.”
Mira’s stomach tightened. Commitment. Marriage. A future that wasn’t hers.
She forced herself to breathe. “And what do you want her to see?”
Theo looked at her, expression unreadable. “That she doesn’t control me.”
Mira nodded slowly. She could understand that. She knew what it was like to live under someone else’s expectations until you forgot what your own felt like.
Theo leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “There’s an event tonight. Private dinner. Family and a few ‘friends.’ If you sign, you come.”
Mira stared at the contract again. The number. The term. The neatness of it.
Her ex’s face flashed in her mind—smug, annoyed, already rewriting history.
Mira lifted her chin. “I want one change.”
Theo’s brows lifted. “Name it.”
Mira tapped the page where it outlined her “appearance” guidelines. “No one tells me how to dress.”
Theo’s mouth curved slightly. “That’s fair.”
“And,” Mira added, voice firm, “I want my own clause.”
Theo’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
Mira met his gaze. “If Ethan tries to contact me through you, through your people, through social—if he tries to use this to get back at me—I want you to shut it down.”
Theo’s gaze went very still.
Then he nodded once. “Done.”
Mira’s breath left her slowly. “Okay.”
Theo reached toward the folder, sliding a pen across the bed. “Sign if you want.”
Mira stared at the pen.
She thought of her life before last night—careful, controlled, full of compromises she’d told herself were love.
She picked up the pen and signed her name with a hand that barely trembled.
Theo took the folder and signed beneath hers without hesitation.
Then he set the contract aside and looked at her like she was something new.
“Welcome,” he said quietly, “to the mess.”
Mira snorted, but her eyes burned again. “You really know how to sell it.”
Theo leaned in, brushing a kiss to her temple—brief, oddly intimate. “Eat. Then we get you ready.”
Mira blinked. “Ready for what?”
Theo’s smile was faint and dangerous. “For people who will try to break you down with politeness.”
Mira’s stomach tightened. “Your mother.”
Theo nodded. “And everyone who thinks they have a right to comment on who I’m with.”
Mira lifted her coffee like a toast. “Sounds delightful.”
Theo’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “It can be.”
Mira’s breath hitched, remembering last night in a rush of heat that made her toes curl under the sheet.
Theo’s eyes lifted to hers again, and his voice went lower. “We should practice.”
Mira’s cheeks warmed. “Now?”
Theo’s mouth curved. “Unless you want your first kiss in front of my family to look like a negotiation.”
Mira swallowed. “Okay.”
Theo shifted closer. He didn’t pounce. He didn’t rush.
He cupped her face gently and kissed her with a slow, thorough patience that made her body respond before her mind could interfere.
Mira’s hands slid up his arms, feeling warmth and strength under skin. She pulled him closer, testing her own bravery.
Theo broke the kiss and watched her.
“Again,” he murmured.
Mira’s voice was soft. “You’re enjoying this.”
Theo’s gaze went darker. “Yes.”
Mira’s stomach flipped.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” Theo said.
Mira shook her head slightly. “It’s not.”
Theo’s thumb brushed her cheekbone. “Good.”
He kissed her again, and Mira let herself sink into it—into the simple, devastating relief of being wanted without being corrected.
When Theo finally pulled back, Mira’s breath was uneven.
Theo’s expression softened, and for a moment he looked less like a billionaire and more like a man trying not to want too much.
“Eat,” he repeated, voice rough.
Mira’s lips twitched. “Bossy.”
Theo’s smile returned. “Efficient.”
Mira picked up a slice of fruit and bit into it, eyes still on him.
Theo stood, straightening his shirt, then turned back. “After breakfast, I’ll introduce you to my security team.”
Mira blinked. “Your—what?”
Theo’s expression didn’t change. “You’re going to be seen with me. That comes with attention. Some of it harmless. Some not.”
Mira stared. “This is insane.”
Theo’s gaze held hers. “It’s real.”
The way he said it made her stomach twist—not with fear, but with the weight of what she’d stepped into.
Mira looked down at the signed contract on the bed, the ink still crisp.
Then she looked up again. “Okay. Teach me.”
Theo’s eyes warmed. “I will.”
***