Maya barely slept.
At six thirty the next morning, she sat at the crooked wooden table in her apartment with a contract spread in front of her.
Xander’s assistant had delivered it before sunrise.
Thirty-two pages.
For one fake weekend relationship.
Maya laughed when she saw the thickness.
Then she stopped laughing when she reached the payment section.
Twenty thousand dollars.
Half immediately.
Half Sunday night.
Her fingers shook slightly as she stared at the number.
Ten thousand dollars had already been deposited into an account she had provided.
For the first time in months, she could breathe.
She logged into the university payment portal.
The cursor hovered over PAY BALANCE.
She paid her overdue tuition.
Then she transferred two months’ rent plus the late fee to Mr. Green.
Her savings dropped dramatically in less than ten minutes.
But her life had stopped collapsing.
At 8:14 a.m., someone knocked.
Mr. Green stood outside.
He held his phone.
“You paid.”
“Yes.”
“All of it.”
“Yes.”
He looked suspicious.
“You win the lottery?”
“No.”
“Rob a bank?”
“No.”
He stared at her.
Maya smiled.
“Catering.”
Mr. Green shook his head.
“That must have been some party.”
“You have no idea.”
After he left, Maya sat alone and looked at the tuition receipt.
She imagined her mother smiling.
Then she looked at the contract again.
There were rules.
No interviews.
No discussion of Xander’s businesses.
No disclosure of the arrangement.
No public intoxication.
No personal social media posts during the weekend.
Maintain believable affection in public.
Remain within reasonable proximity during scheduled appearances.
Maya found one clause particularly ridiculous.
“Physical contact may include hand-holding, arm contact, and situationally appropriate displays of affection.”
She grabbed a pen.
Underneath it she wrote:
NO KISSING.
Then another:
NO BEDROOM SHARING.
Then another:
NO LYING ABOUT MY FAMILY.
At eleven, a black car arrived.
Maya almost refused to get into it because she had never seen a car so polished in her life.
The driver opened the door.
“Miss Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Vance is waiting.”
The car took her across town to Vance Technologies headquarters.
The lobby alone was larger than her university library.
She was escorted upstairs.
Xander stood beside a wall of glass overlooking the city.
No party.
No crowd.
No cold billionaire performance.
He had removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to his elbows.
He looked younger.
More human.
His assistant, Elena Brooks, sat at the table with another copy of the contract.
“Maya,” Xander said.
“Xander.”
Elena smiled faintly.
“Mr. Vance said you had amendments.”
Maya set the contract down.
“A few.”
Xander read them.
NO KISSING.
He looked up.
“Concerned?”
“I prefer written boundaries.”
“Fair.”
NO BEDROOM SHARING.
“Also fair.”
NO LYING ABOUT MY FAMILY.
His expression changed.
“Explain.”
“My mother died last year. I’m not inventing parents or changing where I come from just because your grandmother has expensive silverware.”
Xander studied her.
“You won’t have to.”
“Good.”
He signed beside each amendment.
Maya looked surprised.
“That easy?”
“I said I needed a girlfriend, not an employee.”
“I’m technically being paid.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Elena slid a folder toward Maya.
“Background information.”
Maya opened it.
Xander Vance.
Born in Chicago.
Father deceased.
Mother living in Europe.
Raised largely by grandmother Evelyn Vance.
Favorite food: Italian.
Dislikes seafood.
Allergic to walnuts.
College: Stanford.
First company at twenty-one.
Maya looked up.
“Your fake girlfriend needs to know your allergies?”
“My grandmother will ask.”
“Why?”
“Because she interrogates everyone.”
Maya turned the page.
“You hate sailing?”
“Yes.”
“But your family owns a yacht.”
“Yes.”
“You own a yacht and hate sailing?”
“I own several things I hate.”
Maya laughed.
Xander looked at her.
She stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I haven’t heard anyone laugh in this office in a while.”
“That sounds unhealthy.”
“It probably is.”
Elena cleared her throat.
“Saturday dinner will be at the Vance estate. Twelve guests. Family only.”
Maya stiffened.
“Family?”
“Yes.”
“You said dinner.”
“It is dinner.”
“You forgot the terrifying word before it.”
Xander sat across from her.
“My grandmother turns eighty tomorrow.”
“So this whole girlfriend invention was because she wants you settled down?”
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
Xander leaned back.
“My board chairman has a daughter named Caroline Mercer.”
Maya waited.
“Our companies may merge.”
“And people think marrying her would help.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t want to.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t love her.”
Maya stared at him.
“That’s surprisingly normal.”
“I’m occasionally normal.”
“Evidence is limited.”
Elena hid a smile.
The afternoon became a strange rehearsal.
Where they “met.”
A bookstore café.
Why Maya liked him.
His terrible sense of humor.
Why he liked her.
Her refusal to treat him differently because of money.
“How long have we been dating?” Maya asked.
“Three months.”
“Favorite date?”
Xander hesitated.
Maya groaned.
“You invented a girlfriend without inventing dates?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Fine. We went to a museum.”
“I hate museums.”
Maya stared at him.
“You own a private art collection.”
“I like art. I dislike crowds.”
“You are exhausting.”
“And you’re being paid.”
“Not enough.”
Something about their constant arguing made the rehearsals unexpectedly easy.
By late afternoon, Xander walked her through his private apartment two floors above the corporate offices so she could understand where he “lived.”
Maya stopped the moment she entered.
The place was stunning.
But not because of the luxury.
Because of the architecture.
She walked toward the massive windows.
“The cantilevered corner is beautiful.”
Xander looked confused.
“The what?”
“This.”
She pointed upward.
“They eliminated the visual support column. The entire corner feels weightless.”
“You noticed that before the view?”
“The view is beautiful because the structure lets you see it.”
Xander watched her closely.
Maya moved toward the staircase.
“This railing is custom.”
“How do you know?”
“The joints.”
She crouched slightly.
“See? No visible weld marks.”
Xander joined her.
“You really love this.”
Maya looked up.
“Architecture?”
“Yes.”
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever been sure about.”
Her smile faded.
“My mother used to say buildings were promises people made to the future.”
Xander didn’t speak.
Maya stood.
“She worked two jobs so I could be the first person in our family to attend college. She died before I finished.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Xander looked out over the city.
“My father died when I was seventeen.”
Maya glanced at him.
“Was it sudden?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t elaborate.
She didn’t push.
That silence changed something.
For the first time, they weren’t billionaire and broke student.
They were simply two people who knew what an empty chair at dinner felt like.
The next day, Maya faced another problem.
Clothes.
She owned exactly one dress appropriate for the Vance family estate.
She had worn it to her mother’s funeral.
She refused to wear it.
Elena arrived at her apartment with garment bags.
Maya opened the first.
A designer gown.
“No.”
Elena blinked.
“No?”
“I can’t wear something that costs more than my education.”
“It’s borrowed.”
“I’ll still be terrified of breathing in it.”
Elena laughed.
Eventually they agreed on a simple dark green dress.
Elegant.
Understated.
Maya insisted on wearing her own small silver earrings.
They had belonged to her mother.
Saturday evening, the car pulled through enormous iron gates.
The Vance estate looked less like a home and more like a historic hotel.
Maya’s palms began sweating.
Xander noticed.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“You’re rubbing your fingers together.”
“I always do that.”
“When you’re nervous.”
She looked at him.
“You studied me?”
“We need to look convincing.”
“That sounded creepy.”
He smiled.
The car stopped.
Before the door opened, Xander reached for her hand.
Maya looked down.
Their fingers were intertwined.
It was part of the agreement.
Nothing more.
Still, the warmth of his hand startled her.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No.”
“Excellent.”
They stepped out together.
A woman stood at the top of the stairs.
Silver hair.
Perfect posture.
Sharp eyes.
Evelyn Vance.
Xander’s grandmother.
Maya immediately understood why everyone feared her.
Evelyn looked at their joined hands.
Then at Maya.
Then directly at Xander.
“So,” she said, “this is the mysterious woman you’ve been hiding.”
Maya smiled.
“I’m afraid so.”
Evelyn walked down one step.
“Tell me something, Maya.”
Xander’s grip tightened slightly.
Evelyn’s eyes never left Maya.
“How much did my grandson pay you to come here?”
Maya felt Xander go completely still.
The evening had barely begun.
And somehow, the grandmother already knew.
---