"READY?"

No, thought Muse. A hundred percent no, not even a little bit.

How had she agreed to this? Had she really thought it would be a good idea? She'd said no. And then she'd changed her mind. She should blame it on something―the sugar high from the dessert. Or the way Adrien's jet-black eyes had captured hers, dark and shining and full of some mystery emotion.

Curiosity was a good scapegoat, too. Simple curiosity. Muse just wanted to see the inside of Adrien's apartment.

"I want to see what you write with. Says a lot about a person, you know. Their choice of writing utensil."

Well, it would certainly be illuminating to see what filled the space Adrien lived, breathed, slept in.

Not that Muse cared that much.

She cared the normal, platonic, professional amount. That was all.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she said, meeting Adrien's stare head-on.

The bill already paid, tip left on the table, Adrien held out her hand for Muse. Muse looked down at it. Swallowed. Then extended her own hand, letting Adrien's fingers interweave with hers. The warmth made her body feel fuzzy, loose.

Leading her out of the little dessert shop, Adrien paused on the sidewalk. There was a platform, a step separating the shop from the ground. Adrien's other hand brushed Muse's waist, guiding her, and Muse stepped down―into the witching hour of New York. Past 3 a.m, the buildings towered over her, thousands of little windows glimmering, blinking like golden eyes. There were no stars. But there were people, awake, alive, bright all around her. She loved that more than she loved anything else.

Even in the middle of the night, the whole city thrummed. Music and movement and endless conversation. Nobody was ever alone.

This was why Muse had to make the deal. This was why she didn't want to leave.

"I texted my chauffeur already," Adrien said. She gave Muse's hand a light squeeze. "He's here."

The chauffeur in question had warm brown skin and close-cropped golden corkscrew curls. He didn't seem that old―maybe early thirties.

"That's James. He's getting his masters in South Asian languages," Adrien said quietly, as they approached the car. "I met him at a party in Bermuda. Offered him a stable job so he could pursue his studies without worrying."

Bermuda? Once again, Muse was reminded of how rich Adrien was. Of the way she could go anywhere, do anything. And she wasn't just rich. She was a CEO of her own company, a billionaire. It wasn't just excessive, it was outrageous. What could one person possibly do with all that wealth?

The car ride lasted twenty minutes. Muse leaned her head against the window. Her eyes fluttered briefly. The next thing she knew, the car had slowed to a stop in front of a shiny black building.

Maybe Adrien thought she was asleep, because she was arguing quietly with James.

"I didn't mean here."

"Sorry, I saw her and figured the usual―"

Adrien glanced back. Muse pretended to still be sleeping.

"It's fine. It's too late now. Thanks for the ride."

"Sorry again. You need help getting her out?"

Muse could hear the smile in Adrien's voice as she responded: "Nah. This is what the gym is for."

Muse didn't move a muscle. A second later, the car door opened gently. It should have made Muse fall over, but Adrien was already there, supporting her weight. She lifted Muse up with such ease that Muse almost gave herself away by gasping. Instead, she kept her breathing slow and even. And just like that, the car door had shut and Adrien was carrying her towards the apartment building. Her head lolled against Adrien's chest. She let herself be limp. She liked this way too much.

The sound of Adrien's heartbeat was mesmerizing. Muse let it propel her into a state of absolute calm, even as they stepped onto an elevator, even as Adrien shifted her position so that only one arm held Muse, so the other was free to unlock her apartment door.

Christ. Adrien was strong.

"This is what the gym is for," she'd told the chauffeur, and Muse was suddenly filled with images of Adrien in a tank top, the muscles in her arms straining, skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat. Maybe Muse should get a membership to Adrien's gym.

The images rose again, and this time, Muse thought of other people in the gym staring at Adrien, with her dark, slicked-back ponytail and her oil-spill eyes, narrowed with determination . . .

Adrien was so attractive she probably almost got hit on daily. Did women in their gym clothes go up to her between sets and pass her their numbers? And why did that idea fill Muse with so much rage?

She realized at once how much she'd stiffened in Adrien's arms when Adrien whispered, "Still pretending to be asleep, are we?"

Muse's eyes snapped open. They were in Adrien's apartment.

Or maybe apartment wasn't the right word.

The ceilings were impossibly high, with windows instead of walls, displaying the city in all its full, glossy brightness. A fish tank gleamed in the corner, blue and filled with coral castles. The countertops were islands, swirling marble. The bed was in full view of the kitchen, lush with a black comforter and a dozen pillows. Interesting set-up.

"Well."

"I can stand now, you know."

Adrien grinned and set her down. Muse swayed a little, and Adrien caught her by her hips. The touch made Muse even more dizzy, though she tried to hide it better.

"I was promised a toothbrush and clothes to sleep in?"

"As you wish, my love."

My love. Oh, Muse was in for it now.

As Adrien disappeared into a walk-in closet, Muse walked slowly around the apartment. Taking it in.

"Like what you see?" Adrien called out.

"It's alright," Muse called back, though she'd never seen anyone live with this much extravagance in her life, except in movies.

She pressed her palms against the glass, staring out at the city spread beneath her. This was the penthouse. She was almost positive. How much did it cost a month?

Adrien's reflection appeared in the window behind her.

"Hey."

"Hi," said Muse, turning.

The clothes were nothing special from a glance, but the material told a different story. Muse would probably have to sell her liver to afford just the shirt. And Adrien had given her . . . boxers.

"I just bought them. Haven't worn them yet. They're yours now."

Shame, Muse thought before she could stop herself. "Um, thanks."

Adrien disappeared into the bathroom this time, presumably looking for a toothbrush, and Muse used this time to strip out of her dress and into the oversized button-down shirt. She had just pulled the boxers up her hips when Adrien returned.

Muse delighted in the way Adrien's cheeks flushed.

"What colour toothbrush? I've got blue and orange."

"Orange," said Muse, and Adrien tossed it to her.

On the way to the bathroom, Muse stopped by the little aquarium. The fish tank glowed blue-green. She squinted―and saw, nestled between fish castles, a dark, distinct object.

"There's a purse in your fish tank," Muse said.

A pause. It lasted so long she turned around to check Adrien had even heard.

Adrien, standing by the fridge now, had simply frozen. When they made eye contact, a smile broke on Adrien's face.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but something felt wrong about the way Adrien had hesitated. It was just a stupid purse in a fish tank. It was funny, if anything.

"Wonder how that ended up there," Adrien said lightly.

Muse thought no more of it and closed the bathroom door.

***

THE question, of course, was: Where would Muse sleep? Because, from what she had seen, it was a studio apartment. Everything was on display. And there was only one bed.

Surely a billionaire would have space for guests? Unless Adrien didn't invite many people over?

Muse stepped out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later and found Adrien had set up some blankets and pillows on the couch opposite the bed. She had changed, too, into a black tank top and sweats. Her arms were just as lean and defined as Muse had pictured.

The lights had been dimmed low. Muse shivered, crossing her arms over herself.

"You want me to sleep in your bed? And you take the couch?"

"I'm not giving you the couch, Muse."

Muse bit her lip. She wanted to say they should share the bed, but she held it in. This contract was strictly professional. It was a marriage on paper only.

"I'm excited for church tomorrow morning."

A wicked spark lit Adrien's eyes. "So am I."

Muse approached the bed. It was much too big for one person, or even two. It spanned almost a whole wall. She climbed in and decided to stick to the edge, folding herself into a little ball like always.

"Goodnight, Adrien," she said, unsure of why her voice sounded so hoarse.

A beat. "Goodnight, Muse. Sweet dreams."

The lights dimmed again, this time into complete darkness. The curtains had been pulled shut, obscuring the city. Blinking into the black, Muse held her breath, asking whatever deity existed for the strength to just open her mouth and say, Come sleep here.

But maybe no god existed, because the words never came, and she fell asleep in Adrien's bed alone.