His Ring Her Rules

Penthouses are said to have thicker walls than typical homes.

That is untrue.

Or perhaps it's karma at work. Because I passed Ethan's office door, which was slightly open, the morning after the corporate dinner, the one where I'd dressed in red like a warrior and grinned through sour conversations.

I wasn't spying. I wondered if he kept the real coffee in a vault while I held a half-eaten bagel.

Then I heard it.

"It's a transaction, of course," Ethan stated. Be calm. measured. As if it were a report every three months. "She required protection, I required secrecy. The contract was signed by both of us."

I stopped walking.

I thought I had misheard and blinked once and twice. However, his voice resounded, cold and clear as sleet on glass.

He went on, "No, there isn't any romantic entanglement." "This is solely a business matter. She is intelligent enough to comprehend the jargon. Already, the media has calmed down. That's what counts."

I was a ghost in slippers as I stood outside the door. With the cream cheese now a victim of emotional warfare, my fingers tightened around the bagel.

All business.

Enough intelligence to comprehend the terms.

The strange thing was that he was correct. A contract had been signed by us. I knew going in that this was not going to be a love story. However, to hear myself characterized as a well-negotiated agreement?

It hurt.

Like a thief fleeing a crime scene, I quietly withdrew, but all I had taken was the dignity I believed I possessed.

I ignored breakfast, makeup, and mirrors for the remainder of the morning in my room, which was technically his guest room. When your eyes are haunted, mirrors are betraying you.

Around noon, someone knocked on the door.

"Grace?" Ethan's voice was as smooth as ever. "My grandmother and I have to be at lunch in an hour. She is anticipating your arrival.

It nearly made me laugh. Are you expecting me? Would she prefer that I play the part of a transaction?

I didn't respond.

He paused.

Then: "I know you're in there, Grace."

I pulled the door open.

He blinked. "Is everything alright?"

With a phony smile that could have been accompanied by a barcode, I said, "Peachy." "I just realized that I don't remember what kind of deal I agreed to."

His forehead furrowed. "What?"

"Don't be concerned. I'll be prepared in fifteen minutes. I don't want to let your grandmother down. or the brand.

I closed the door quietly, which required restraint, because dramatic slams are so much more satisfying, before he could reply.

I changed into my clothes.

Power jumpsuit. lipstick in its natural state. I'm unfazed, despite having just sobbed over a bagel, thanks to my sleek ponytail.

I practiced smiling like a girl who wasn't just a tactical solution while I was looking in the mirror.

It's showtime.