Kiley woke up because the bed was too soft.
Her mattress at home had a spring that dug into her left hip. This mattress felt like sleeping on a cloud.
She opened her eyes. Sunlight was streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, blindingly bright.
She sat up, gasping. She grabbed the sheets-silk, definitely silk-and looked around.
The room was massive. Minimalist. White walls, dark wood floors, furniture that looked like art pieces.
Memory crashed into her. Carmine. The wedding. The car.
She scrambled out of bed. She was still in her dress from last night, though it was wrinkled now. Her feet sank into a plush rug as she walked to the window.
She looked down. And down.
The entire city of River City was spread out below her like a toy set. Cars were tiny dots. She was in the sky.
"You're awake."
Kiley spun around.
Carmine was leaning against the doorframe. He was holding two mugs of steaming coffee. He had discarded the suit jacket and tie; the top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin.
Kiley tugged at her dress, suddenly self-conscious. "This... is this your house?"
Carmine walked over and handed her a mug. "Our house."
Kiley took the coffee. Her hands were shaking slightly. "This view... the rent must be astronomical."
Carmine took a sip of his coffee to hide the smirk threatening to form. "It's company housing."
"Company housing?" Kiley repeated, incredulous. "What kind of company gives this as housing?"
"Wilkinson Group executive package," Carmine lied. It wasn't technically a lie; he was the executive, and he owned the package. "It's a perk. They treat their senior management very well to keep us from jumping ship."
Kiley stared at him. He must be high up, she thought. Or they really value him. But corporate housing meant strings attached. It meant if he lost his job, they lost their home.
There was a knock on the open door.
Two women in grey uniforms walked in, carrying stacks of towels and a garment bag. Behind them, Alfred appeared.
"Madam," Alfred said, bowing slightly. "Fresh linens and toiletries."
Kiley took a step back, nearly spilling her coffee. "Is this... a company perk too?"
"Housekeeping is included in the lease," Carmine said, his face impassive. "It's a standard service package for this building. Don't overthink it."
The staff placed the items on the bench at the foot of the bed and filed out silently. Kiley looked at the bottles of shampoo-brands she recognized from magazines, costing fifty dollars a bottle.
She looked at Carmine. He was watching her over the rim of his mug, his eyes dark and intense.
He took a step toward her. The air suddenly felt thin.
"Since you're awake," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "go take a shower."
Kiley's heart hammered against her ribs.
Shower.
Her mind raced. He paid for the wedding. He paid for Grandma. He brought me to this luxury apartment.
There was no such thing as a free lunch. She knew how the world worked. Men like Javon expected things. Men like Carmine... surely expected more.
Her face drained of color.
"We..." She swallowed hard. "Are we supposed to... fulfill the duties?"
Carmine frowned, confused for a second. Then he saw the fear in her eyes. The resignation. She thought he was calling in a debt.
A dark, twisted urge curled in his gut. He wanted her. Desperately. But not like this. Not as payment.
But he couldn't let her know who he really was. Not yet.
He stepped closer, invading her personal space. He smelled of coffee and danger.
"You are my wife," he whispered, leaning down so his lips brushed her ear. "What do you think?"
Kiley gripped her mug so hard her knuckles turned white. She thought of the nursing home bill. She thought of the safety he provided.
She nodded, a jerky motion. "Okay. I'll... I'll go shower."
She turned and marched toward the bathroom like a soldier going to the gallows.
Carmine watched her go. He saw the stiffness in her shoulders.
When the bathroom door clicked shut, he let out a ragged breath. He loosened another button on his shirt.
He heard the water turn on.
He walked to the window and stared out at the city he owned, feeling like the poorest man on earth.
