OLIVIA'S POV
The eggs are burning.
Olivia stands in Adrian's massive kitchen at 6:47 in the morning, watching yellow scrambled eggs turn brown in a pan that probably costs more than her car. Steam rises up and hits her face. Her hands shake as she stirs.
She's been in this penthouse for exactly two days.
The contract sits in her bag like a secret she's still learning to keep. Three years. This was supposed to be simple. Show up. Look pretty. Pretend to be in love with a man who makes her stomach flip in the worst possible way. But simple doesn't feel simple when you're standing in someone else's kitchen at dawn, trying to cook breakfast for a billionaire who hasn't even looked at you since the day you signed your life away.
