Downtown is quiet. Still. It's funny how quickly the streets go from bustling to empty.

The yellow fluorescent lights pop against the dark sky. The city is beautiful. I never tire of it.

I never tire of tilting my head upwards, gawking at the skyscrapers like a tourist.

They're tall. Powerful. Unmoving.

Shit. I'm comparing buildings to my fake fiancé.

He's taking over too many of my thoughts. Not just the ones about sex. But the ones about long walks and shared dessert and forever.

I hug my purse to my shoulder as I step into the building.

The security guard nods with familiarity. I'm not sure how he recognizes me—I've only been here a few times—but he does.

I nod back. I need all the pleasantries I can get right now.

I'm not sure what I'm going to say to Blake.

I know what I want, but it's not on the table.

Is it really possible to find a compromise with something this black and white?

I don't know.

But I'm not giving up on that possibility.

I step into the shiny silver elevator and push the penthouse button.

It flashes red. Damn key card. I fish it from my wallet, swipe it, and press the button again. Green.

His office needs a key for access.

It's so Blake.

My reflection stares back at me. It's just like last time. She looks tired. Scared. In over her head.

But last time worked out well. I got everything I wanted.

Maybe I can do the same here.

Ding. The doors slide open. I step into the lobby.

Once again, the floor is empty. Dark. Still. The light of the city flows in through the windows. The big, grey clouds feel close. Like I could touch them if I opened the window.

I go straight to Blake's office. Grab the handle. Try to turn.

It's locked.

He's here alone and the door is locked.

A panel forms in my mind. A cartoon version of Blake pulling open his chest to show off the walls around his heart. There are a dozen different locks. Each with a different key.

It could make for an interesting story. A girl on a quest, trying to figure out how to tear down each of those walls.

I steel myself as I knock. I'm not sure how this is going to go. Only that it's going to be difficult.

Blake pulls the door open. His blue eyes meet mine. They fill with a mix of concern and appreciation. He's glad I'm here. And worried it means something.

He's not wearing a suit.

He's in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. It's tight on his broad shoulders and chest. It hangs off him perfectly. And those jeans…

Heat pools between my legs. I'm here to talk. Not to beg him to pin me to the couch and fuck my brains out.

He gives me a long once-over. "Gin and tonic?"

"You're not wearing a suit."

He chuckles. "I changed after you texted."

"Oh. For me?"

"Yes."

My heartbeat picks up. Blake is changing for me. It's not a metaphor. It's probably for comfort. But it feels like it means something.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Sure."

He moves to the bar and pours carefully.

I take a seat on the couch. Fold my legs. Smooth my jeans. Tap my heels together. These are nice boots. Expensive leather with good waterproofing. My feet are dry. Warm.

It's heaven compared to walking around the city with soggy socks.

It's the kind of thing that wasn't possible last month.

But creature comforts aren't enough anymore.

I need more.

He moves to the couch and hands over my cocktail. His eyes fix on mine as he takes a long sip of his whiskey.

"This is early for you." I let the alcohol warm my face and cheeks. "To stop working and have a drink."

"I figured it's important."

"Oh?"

"You haven't said anything but goodnight in three days."

"I didn't think you noticed."

He stares back at me. "Of course."

Of course? What the hell is that? I take another sip, but it doesn't offer any clarity. Or confidence. "I've been thinking."

"About?"

Wanting you to love me. Wanting this to be real. My inability to separate fact and fiction. "Everything."

He slides his fingertips over my neck. "What's one thing?"

I take a greedy sip, but it does nothing to refresh me. My eyes go to the shiny hardwood floor. It's perfect, spotless, pristine like everything in Blake's office. Like everything in his life. "Do you trust me?"

He answers immediately. "Yes." His voice is certain. Sure.

I force myself to stare back into his eyes. They're sincere. They're worried even.

I mean something to him.

I just don't know how much.

I fish the check from my purse. "Your sister thinks… well, I'm not sure what she thinks. But she wants me to go away." I unfold the check.

He reads it. "You want more?"

"No, I…"

"We have a deal, Kat. If it's not enough anymore—"

"This isn't about money." I squeeze the check with my thumb and forefinger. "I'll tear it in half right now if I have to."

His lip corners turn down. "You're showing off a check for a hundred grand. What else could it be about?"

Love. "Don't you care that your sister wants me to go away?"

"She's trying to protect me. In her way." His gaze shifts to the window. "She's not taking the divorce well. You don't need to like her, but don't take it personally."

"Don't take go-away money personally?"

"It's more than she can afford. She must think you're valuable to me."

"Is everything a number to you?"

He arches a brow.

"Would I be less valuable if she'd offered me fifty grand?"

"That isn't what I mean."

"No? It sounds like it."

"If you want more money—"

"I don't."

"Then why tell me?"

"I trust you." My toes tap together. "You've been honest with me. But…"

"But?"

"Stop offering me more money. I don't want any more of your money."

"Fine." His voice is short. Frustrated.

"I want to talk about this. Like adults." I go to tear the check in half but my fingers won't cooperate. "You can't buy me. Your sister can't buy me. I'm not for sale."

I do it again.

This time, I manage a tiny rip.

I don't want Fiona's money.

I don't want anyone buying my allegiance.

Deep breath. I tear the check in half.

The paper flutters to the ground.

Fuck. There go my options.

"There's no shame in needing money." Blake finishes his whiskey and sets his glass on a wide table. "You can admit it."

I dig my heels into the hardwood. "Fine, I need the money. I'm not a billionaire. I don't have a tech company. In fact, I don't have a fucking penny to my name. It's just my sister and me. No one else will help. Is that what you want to hear?"

"If it's the truth."

"I need your fucking money. I hate that I need your money, but I do."

His stare cuts through me.

I turn away. Fuck this. Blake can't intimidate me.

I go to push myself up but he grabs my wrist.

"Don't," he says.

"Why? This is a business arrangement. Our terms are the same. There's nothing to talk about." There's no way to get what I want. Not like this.

His grip tightens around my wrist.

"We're not friends."

"Aren't we?" He pulls my body into his. "I care about you."

"You don't care how I feel."

"Yes, I do." His breath warms my ear. "I know this is hard for you. And I hate that. But there isn't another way."

"But you…" I don't know what to say. His voice is sincere. He does care about me. "How much?"

"How much?"

"Do you care about me? Am I a colleague? A friend? A lover?"

"I'm not going to fall in love with you." The words are easy. Like he's talking about the time.

My stomach sinks. "I don't know if I can do this without falling in love with you."

"Kat…"

"I know. You'll never love me. I understand." Sort of. He thinks he'll never love me. But he does care about me. And that's how it starts.

Blake looks me over. His gaze is softer. There's affection in it.

He picks the pieces of the check off the floor and sets them on the side table.

"You can still take Fiona's money."

"I don't want it."

"Good. Pretend like this never happened."

"She doesn't believe we're in love."

"She does. That's why she offered you this much. It's a test."

"That's fucked up."

"That's the Sterling family." He slides his palm around the back of my neck. Stares into my eyes. "I meant what I said. There's no shame in needing money. Most people wouldn't do as well as you have."

"Maybe."

Blake runs his fingertips over my cheek. "It must have been hard, holding everything together after your parents died."

I nod. It's still hard. It's still pent up inside me.

There's affection in his eyes.

Maybe we are friends.

Maybe that's enough. I don't need him being in love with me if he really does love me.

"How did it happen?" he asks.

"They were in a car accident."

"And that was it?"

"Yeah." I let my eyelids flutter together. "I was at a cross-country event when I got the news. I was thinking about the guy who asked me to Winter Formal. About my dress. About things that didn't matter at all."

Blake runs his fingers through my hair. I lean into his touch. I soak up every bit of it.

"You'd have liked the dress. It was black. Low-cut. It's still in my closet somewhere. I don't think I've ever worn it."

He pulls me closer. Until I can feel his heartbeat. It's steady. His breath is too.

I sink into his arms. It feels good. Safe. Reassuring. I haven't had any reassurance. For three years, I've been the one telling everyone else it's going to be okay.

And now he's doing it.

I want that.

I want to collapse in Blake's arms.

I want him taking care of me.

"My coach came over." I swallow hard. "It was right before I was set to race. I was all high and mighty, wondering what could be so important. But there was this look on her face. Something was wrong.

"She took me to the tiny parking lot. She couldn't look at me. I couldn't look at her. I don't remember exactly what she said, just that I ran. I ran to the hospital even though it was miles away. I had no idea what had happened, if my family was alive or dead."

He holds me closer.

"I knew it was bad from the way the nurse looked at me. But it didn't feel real. It felt like I was watching the whole thing on TV. Mom and Dad were dead on arrival. Lizzy was in the ICU. I stayed with her for a while. I only went home to change and shower. I slept in the waiting room. It was only a few days, but it felt like weeks. I would have been completely alone. I wouldn't have had anyone."

A drop falls on my leg. Another. My hand is shaking. Gin and tonic is spilling over the sides of the glass.

Blake takes my hand and pries my fingers from the glass. He sets it on the floor then intertwines his hand with mine.

His eyes meet mine.

It's a look I've never seen before. Not on him.

It's like he does love me.

Like the only thing he wants is my happiness.

He brushes my hair behind my ear. "That must have been hard."

"There was no time for it to be hard. My parents didn't save for shit. They were in debt. Their life insurance was enough to get me through high school. Then to cover what my job didn't. But it wasn't enough."

"Were you eighteen?"

"Yeah. Thank God. We don't have any other family. Lizzy would have been in foster care if I didn't become her legal guardian."

He brushes the hair from my eyes. "It's okay to want a comfortable life."

"That was the last time I was free, that morning at the cross-country meet. It's not about the money, Blake. It's about the sense that I could do anything. I haven't felt that for a long time."

He nods.

"I want Lizzy to have that."

"Of course." He runs his fingers along my chin, tilting it so we're eye to eye. "You are free, Kat. I need you for a few months, but when we're not together, you're free to do whatever you want."

"As long as I keep up the right image."

"Your image is perfect." He stares into my eyes. "You're better than I ever imagined."

"At lying to people."

"If I was looking to fall in love, it would be with you." His hand brushes my cheek.

If he was going to fall in love it would be with me. What bullshit. He's not going to fall in love, so it's not going to be with me.

It's not a compliment. It's not comforting. Not unless I can convince myself it's more than a lie.

"Don't say things you don't mean." I slide to the other side of the couch.

"I never do." He moves closer. "I want you to feel better."

"I'm not going to feel better."

"I disagree." He pulls me onto his lap. Wraps his arms around my waist. "I'll get your mind off this."

"You can't appease me with sex," I say. "Is that the only way you can deal with people's emotions—pay them off or fuck them?"

His eyes flare with something I can't place. No, I know that look.

I'm right and he hates it.

He releases his grip. It makes me cold. Empty.

"You're right. I don't know how to make someone happy," he says. "But I do want you to be happy."

"Then don't say things like that. Don't act like you might love me."

He nods. "What do you want with my money?"

"I already told you."

"You want it for your sister. But what about for you?"

"What I told your mom. I want to go to college. Art school. I want to publish graphic novels. One day."

"Yours or others?"

"Both. I want to help people pour their soul onto the page. And share it with the world. I know it sounds cheesy. I guess it is. But that's what I want. I always thought I'd have to be an art teacher. Something like that. My parents were teachers. It's a good job. But not for me. I'm not good with people."

"You are."

"Maybe. But I prefer to work alone."

"That, I understand."

I can't help but laugh. "Do you have any friends?"

He arches a brow. "Is that an accusation?"

"No. I'm more… curious. You don't want a best man. There must not be anyone close to you."

"There isn't. Just my mother and my sister."

"Isn't that lonely?"

"I'm used to it." He looks up at me. "I know what you're going through taking on all that responsibility."

"Yeah?"

"My father wasn't just an asshole who drank himself to death. He took out his frustrations on my mother."

"Oh." My heart sinks. Poor Meryl.

"Once I was old enough to step in, he took them out on me." He looks at me. His voice fills with vulnerability. "I was fourteen when he died. I was relieved. The extra responsibility was nothing compared to how much I hated him."

"I'm sorry." My heart sinks for him too. I want to wipe his pain away. I want to prove that love doesn't have to be that ugly. I want to make the world a prettier place.

"Don't be. I'm glad he's gone."

"But I'm sorry you went through that. Love shouldn't hurt. Not like that."

He takes my hand. "It made me stronger. You lost parents who loved you. You lost something real. But it made you stronger."

I shake my head. "I'm not strong."

"You are."

A tear rolls down my cheek.

I miss my parents. There's still a hole in my heart. I never let myself feel it. I never let myself grieve the life I could have had.

Blake catches a tear on his thumb.

He leans in to press his lips to my forehead.

It's soft. Sweet. Loving.

I mumble into his neck. "I'm sorry you went through that."

"Thank you."

"What was it like? If you want to talk about it… You don't have to."

He pulls me closer. "I thought it was normal. That all houses were that full of hatred. My parents were always drinking. It gave her courage. It made him angry. It was a toxic combination. He'd threaten to hit her and she'd call him a coward. She'd dare him to do it."

"She was brave."

"But stupid." He drags his fingers through my hair. "I did the same thing when I stepped in. So he'd take out all his anger on me. The asshole didn't care who he hurt as long as he hurt someone."

I squeeze his hand. I don't know what to say. Only that I want to be here. To listen. To help him. To hold him.

"I didn't do enough to protect her or Fiona. I could have called the police. I could have cut his brake lines. I could have stopped him for good."

"That's a hell of a choice for a fourteen-year-old to make."

He shakes his head. His expression softens. His posture does the same.

It's like he's sinking into me.

I do the same. I melt into him.

We stay pressed together, breathing together, for a long time. The room is still. Silent. But it's comfortable.

I feel safe in his arms. Even with all this ugliness swirling around us.

He brushes my hair between my eyes. "I have a perfect distraction."

I wipe my eyes, willing my feelings back into the box where I usually stuff them.

"Or we can stay here."

I take his hand and rise to my feet. "Is it sex?"

He laughs. Actually laughs. God, it really is a nice laugh. He eyes crinkle. His cheeks spread to his ears.

He has a dimple.

It's the best thing I've ever seen.

I have my clarity.

I want to be by his side.

Whatever that means.

I take Blake's hand and follow him out of the room.