Chapter 2
The first few days were agonizing. I was on edge every single second, terrified I'd slip up and blow my cover.
The contract required me to wake up early every morning and make Edward breakfast.
I could barely cook, so I taught myself every recipe step-by-step from online videos, petrified of making a mistake.
But Eleanor had assured me Olivia was never much of a cook either, so my mediocre skills wouldn't raise suspicion.
Edward ate slowly, with quiet, refined manners. Every time he finished a meal, he'd tell me it was delicious.
I'd make a mental note to make the same dish again.
During the day, he'd work in his study. His assistant would read documents aloud to him, and he'd dictate his responses.
I'd curl up on the sofa in the living room, binge-watching shows and studying Olivia's manner of speech.
She liked to draw out her words at the end of sentences, hum with a lazy, lingering drawl, and soften the word "okay" into something sweet and breathy.
Nights were the hardest part.
I'd steel myself and climb into bed beside him.
He slept peacefully on his back, his hands folded over his stomach.
I tucked myself into a ball as far away from him as I could get on the bed. I didn't dare so much as twitch, scared I'd accidentally brush his skin.
But he must have felt how tense I was.
One night, I was half-asleep when he rolled over and draped his arm over my waist.
"Can't sleep?" he said.
My entire body went stiff.
"N-no, I'm fine," I stammered.
He chuckled softly, his hand patting my waist gently.
"Why are you curled up all the way over there, like a scared little kitten?"
I didn't say a word.
He didn't press me, either. He kept his arm around me, and eventually, he fell back asleep.
I turned my head to look at him.
Moonlight seeped through the gap in the curtains, softening the sharp lines of his face in the dark.
The warmth of his hand on my waist made my heart race, and I had to repeat a single mantra to myself over and over again.
'Grace Nolan, you're here for the money. Don't catch feelings. Don't be stupid,' I told myself.
*****
Two weeks passed.
After dinner one evening, Edward insisted I help him out to the balcony for some fresh air.
I guided him to the railing, and I could tell from his relaxed expression that he was in a good mood.
"Olivia, do you remember what you said you wanted more than anything?" he said.
My stomach dropped.
How on earth was I supposed to know the answer to that?
I'd done my homework, of course. I'd binged all of Olivia's interviews and scrolled through every one of her social media posts.
She wanted designer bags, custom couture gowns, and leading roles in blockbuster films.
I chose my words carefully.
"I want my career to thrive, don't I?" I said.
He shook his head.
"No, I'm talking about what you said the first time we met," he said.
I fell silent.
Crap, I had no idea how to answer that.
He waited for a moment, and when I didn't answer, laughed softly.
"You said you wanted a home. You said your parents were always fighting, and you wanted a quiet place where you could sleep without hearing shouting. I told you I'd give you that home."
I froze.
A cool breeze blew in through the window.
I knew nothing about Olivia's childhood. But the look on Edward's face was so sincere.
It was a past between him and her, and he remembered it with perfect clarity.
My throat felt tight. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.
He turned toward me, his voice soft and warm.
"And now, this place will always be your home," he said.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
It took me several long seconds to force an answer.
"Okay," I said.
He smiled and pulled me into his arms.
I breathed in the faint scent of his pine and cedar cologne, and thought of Olivia, who'd walked away from him without a second thought. My eyes burned with sudden tears.