“Wait. Ayesha, what are you doing? This isn’t part of our agreement. You don’t have to take care of me.”

  “I want to help you in any way I can. I may not understand what you’re going through, but you don’t deserve to go through with it alone.”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m seeing her in a whole different light. This woman before me. She’s not the actress I hired to play my fake fiancée. Could it be? Is this Ayesha’s real self?

  “You’re serious about helping me,” I say, finally beginning to understand her words.

  “Of course! You can be honest with me.” She beams at me and I know for sure she’s telling the truth. “Just tell me what you need.”

  The sincerity in her eyes captivates me, somehow making me say things I probably shouldn’t.

  “The truth is, I already sold this place. I’m moving into a hotel in a few days.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “It’s the only option I have.” Of course, if this were a real situation and not a ruse, I don’t think staying in a hotel for a long time is a good idea. But, if this were real, I wouldn’t have a choice anyway. I didn’t have any friends to stay with.

  “You can stay at my place. Just for a little while, of course,” she says meekly, diverting her eyes from mine, her cheeks tinted pink and I decide I like this side of her.

  Shy, and dare I think it, cute. Sure, I like the confident and elegant air she usually portrays, but this feels more personal. More intimate.

  “Alright,” I reply. And before I know it, I’m packing my stuff and driving to her place in her car.

  When we get there, I’m surprised to see how spacious it is. Sometimes I forget that she’s an actress and has a life outside our contractual relationship.

  So, this is her home.

  She gives me a quick tour and little by little the implications of staying here with her assault me. Maybe I didn’t think this through. Why the hell would I agree to stay at a woman’s place when we’re not really together?

  Shit. This goes against my better judgment.

  Although, seeing that shy smile on Ayesha’s face as she leads me around her place puts my mind at ease.

  I might’ve been too shocked to think before agreeing, but I’m hoping it will be worth it.

  Four

  Ayesha

  After Tatum agrees to come with me, we decide to use my car on our way to my place. By the time we arrive, the sun has already set. I lead him into my condo and to the guest bedroom upstairs.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll prepare dinner,” I recommend before turning to close the door.

  “Ayesha?” he calls for me.

  “Yes?” I ask, immediately turning around.

  “Thank you,” he responds, a small smile gracing his lips.

  “You’re welcome.” And I smile back before closing the door.

  The moment I close the door, I let out a sigh of relief. Then, excitement and giddiness fill me up and I grin on my way to the kitchen.

  Tatum is in my house. He’s really here. The love of my life is in my home.

  Picking up a couple of things, I prepare dinner, knowing exactly what to cook. Tatum’s favorite food: medium-rare steak paired with a red bottle of wine and some mashed potatoes and steamed veggies on the side.

  It’s a lot of work. But the fact that it’s all for Tatum, who is in my house, makes it worth it. Besides, cooking is one of my other passions besides acting. It might help me calm my nerves before I face him again.

  * * *

  A couple of minutes pass by, Tatum comes down and enters the kitchen. With the sleeves of his white button-down polo rolled up to his elbows and tie forgotten, I can’t help but stare at how laid back he looks for the first time since our acquaintance. I notice his lips move, but the words fail to register in my brain. Until he clears his throat.

  “I’m sorry. What was it that you needed?” I ask, a little sheepish that I’m caught staring.

  He chuckles a little before answering, “I said is there anything I could help you with?”

  “Oh, it’s fine. You’re my guest. You can go relax. Or whatever you want to do,” I reply, trying to appear nonchalant.

  “Okay. I’ll watch you cook then,” he answers and sits by the island table, directly in front of me.

  For the next few minutes, I try to calm my nerves as I proceed with steaming an assortment of greens. Unfortunately, feeling Tatum’s piercing gaze is so unnerving.

  Okay, time for small talk.

  “So, uh, what do you think of my place?” I ask, only glancing at him once, while trying to prepare the potatoes.

  He makes a show of glancing around before he replies, “It’s fine.”

  I wait for an additional response, however, the silence just stretches. I feel the awkward tension in the air growing, but Tatum just sits in front of me like the aloof statue that he always is when we’re alone. So I continue asking him questions as I cook. Sadly, he only gives brief responses that our conversation just immediately dies down.

  This is so doing nothing for my nerves.

  Unfortunately, things take a turn for the worse when I forget to grab a mitten before picking up the hot lid of the pot. The next thing I know, the lid is on the floor, my hand is sporting a scalding red burn, and I’m hissing in pain.

  Tatum rushes to my side and examines the damage. Then, he wordlessly grabs my hand and puts it under the sink, letting the water run over the burn.

  “Where’s your first aid kit?” he asks.

  “It’s fine. I get burns on my hand every once in a while. This is nothing,” I reply, trying to placate him.

  “Still, we need to treat that before it can get worse,” he retorts, his eyebrows furrowed.

  I relent and point out where I place my medkit. In a couple of minutes, Tatum is applying medication on the burn with such care that one might not expect him capable of possessing. His gentleness at this moment reminds me of the time that I actually first met him.

  It was way back before they contracted me to model for Brilliance. Work has been very hectic the last few days that I had little to no sleep. The shoot was located beside a busy road and while I was rehearsing my lines along the sidewalk, I failed to notice the speeding car.

  Things happened so quickly and the next thing I knew, I was in Tatum’s arms. In the place where I was standing seconds before, was the car, front smashed on the lamppost. And as quickly as he came to rescue me, he was gone before I could even thank him properly.

  He saved my life all those years ago, so Tatum being here right now has been my lifelong dream ever since that day. Unfortunately, my hero didn’t seem to have any recollection of that incident. I couldn’t blame him though. After all, it was so random. Still, I’m happy that it happened because it gave me the man in front of me.

  “I’ll finish cooking. You sit here and give me directions,” he instructs in such a tone that gave no room for discussion.

  Relenting, I give him instructions on how to finish cooking our dinner. After a few minutes, we set the table and dig in. As we proceed with the meal, I decide to fill the silence with stories that I figure would interest him.

  “And so, Candice tries to separate me from the dog before I get too attached. I just really love dogs so much… Unfortunately, I can’t get a pet because this place doesn’t allow one”

  Glancing at Tatum, I notice that he has propped his left elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand. His eyes are less intense and piercing and a small smile is on his lips.

  “I’m not boring you, am I?” I ask, feeling self-conscious now that I notice that he has been staring at me.

  “No.” And his eyes convey his honesty. “Tell me more about you.”

  I bite my lip to prevent a full-on grin from spreading on my face.

  Five

  Tatum

  Sitting on the bed in the guest bedroom that Ayesha left me in, I mull over the sudden paradox that is my contract fiancée.

  During the last few months that I’ve known her personally, Ayesha had always lived up to my expectations and her public image. Elegant, sophisticated, and a talented actress, she performed the role of a loving fiancée very well in front of the cameras. And behind it, she has been nothing short of formal and respectful.

  Which is why her actions today really puzzle me.

  Her coming to my place after knowing that my company has gone ‘bankrupt’ to offer comfort and a place to stay is something that I would have never expected from her. While I know that we are on good terms with each other, the fact remains unchanged that what only binds us together is a contractual relationship.

  However, the Ayesha that I saw today is far from the woman that I’ve spent the last three months pretending with. She’s sweeter, kinder and warmer. Qualities that I never expected the usually aloof woman to possess. And yet, I’m finding that I don’t dislike this side of Ayesha, no matter how surprising it is.

  I have to admit that I even find it adorable.

  Deciding to figure her out, I head down and get to know the woman behind the actress that the world sees. However, as I watch her cook, I notice that she acts the same way that she usually does when we’re alone: graceful and controlled, but never letting a single emotion register on her face. Although she’s making small talk, it feels more like I’m being interviewed rather than having a normal conversation.

  And I can’t help but feel like the part that she’s shown me this afternoon was nothing but a fluke. At least until she has her minor accident. And I realize that maybe I was reading her wrong all along.

  I guess it wasn’t a fluke after all.

  Dinner after that mostly consisted of me eating and Ayesha talking. Listening to her ramble on story after story, I can’t help but appreciate her effort and sincerity in keeping me entertained.

  “I’m not boring you, am I?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing after she finishes her latest story.

  “No,” I reply. “Tell me more about you.” And a part of me realizes how much I want to get to know this Ayesha: the woman that is not shown in front of the cameras.

  So she continues her stories and I learn bits and pieces of her. Like how she loves dogs, or that she had thought of becoming a chef before she pursued acting, or how much of a homebody she really is.

  Ayesha regales me with her stories well into the night and we only notice that it is past midnight when we finish the second bottle of wine that she had prepared.

  “Well, dinner was lovely. But it’s late. I think I’d better go ahead. I still need to find a place to stay for the night,” I comment after we finish clearing the plates.

  “You know, when I offered you the guest room to rest in, I didn’t just offer it for today,” she replies, not looking at me and fiddling with her fingers.

  “Are you sure?” I ask as I rest my hand on her shoulder.

  “Of course. It’s the least I could do for you after what you’ve done for me,” she replies as she finally looks at me, chocolate brown eyes laced with warmth.

  “Thank you for the generous offer Ayesha,” I smile back at her, despite my confusion at her comment.

  “You’re welcome. You could stay here for as long as you’d like. Treat my home like it’s yours,” she offers, before letting out a big yawn and promptly slapping her hand over her mouth, ears red from embarrassment.

  I chuckle at how adorable she looks at that moment. “Well, it’s been a long day. I suggest we head to bed now.”

  “I have no complaints about that,” she replies with a chuckle.

  We both head upstairs and I accompany her to her room. She opens her door, but instead of going in, she turns around to look at me.

  “Oh, by the way, I was thinking I could help you get your things tomorrow so you could settle in here nicely,” she offers.

  “Thank you. That’d be a great help,” I answer. “Well, good night.”

  “Good night. Sweet dreams,” she replies then surprises me with a kiss on the cheek before closing her door.

  I stare at her door for a few seconds before shaking my head and chuckling to myself.

  Just when I think I finally figured her out, there she goes and surprises me again.

  As I lie in bed, my mind refuses to settle despite my exhaustion, choosing instead to shift to Ayesha and how much of a paradox she can be.

  For the longest time, she’s shown the world only one part of her: Ayesha Merlot, the actress who was always sophisticated. She carried herself with the grace and elegance of a woman who has long been used to New York’s high society.

  She’s well-known in the industry for having beauty, the elegant manners of a queen in a world that cares more about twerking, and amazing talent with an acting range like one of the greats. However, behind those praises and kind words, she’s been called names because she hardly showed any emotion on her face other than a smile.

  And until yesterday, I’ve only known that side of her.

  Today, she showed me that there’s more to her than what she has allowed the world to see. That underneath the sophisticated and elegant actress Ayesha Merlot, there lies a warm and sweet woman who can wear her heart on her sleeves.

  And she is such a breath of fresh air compared to all the other people that I’ve met.

  As sleep takes over my consciousness, I can only think of one thing.

  I like Ayesha very much. And I can’t wait to get to know her better.

  Six

  Ayesha

  I wonder what he’d like for breakfast?

  Opening my fridge to scan its contents, I realize I don’t really know much about Tatum’s food preferences. We’ve only gone out on dinners when we had to go to restaurants. Most of the time, he’d bring me to family gatherings, and some dates to galas or openings, others to press conferences.

  Of course, all of those times were for the public eye and never just for the two of us.

  So, no. I have no idea what to cook for him. It’s a shame. I woke up early so I could impress him with my cooking skills, but I didn’t think it would be this hard.

  I sigh and decide to play it safe. Pancakes it is. And maybe some eggs and bacon. If he doesn’t like them, then we’ll just have to eat out.

  I take out the ingredients and start preparing the pancake batter. Then I grab my phone, remembering that I should take a leave for today.

  “I need to take the day off,” I tell my manager through the phone so she could relay it to the production team. I’m shooting a movie that should come out next year, and we’ve been having a good time, but I’ve made my decision to stay with Tatum for today. He needs me more than the movie. They can shoot the scenes without me first.

  “I’ll make up for it, I promise.” Besides, I’ve always kept good work ethics and that should count for something, right?

  “Alright. I’ll tell them you can’t make it,” my manager concedes, and I thank her for understanding.

  I return my attention to the breakfast I’m preparing and my mind drifts to how I can mention the money matter again. It would be so easy to give him back the payment I received for our phony relationship. I never had any use for it, and it’s not like I became his fake fiancée for the money anyway. I just wanted to help him.

  He didn’t say anything yesterday when I offered to return it. I know it’s a sensitive issue and I could hurt his pride if I don’t do it tactfully. But I have no idea how to do it. I can’t just ask, can I?

  I let out a soft groan when I couldn’t think of a solution. This is probably too early to think about in the morning. I’ll wait for Tatum to wake up, then I’ll think about it.

  Tatum appears by the kitchen doorway catching me by surprise. I must’ve been too caught up in my musings.

  “Hey, ‘morning,” he greets me, and I try to suppress my blush from how handsome he looked even with a bedhead. I swear he doesn’t know the effect he has on me.

  “Good morning,” I manage to keep my voice even. “I’m almost done with breakfast. I hope you like pancakes.”

  “Who doesn’t love pancakes?” he says, but instead of turning back, he walks into the kitchen and stands in front of me. I unconsciously hold my breath. “Where do you keep your tableware?”

  My heart goes crazy in my chest. This feels so domestic I can’t help the fantasies from flooding my mind. God, it’s like we’re married. How many times have I imagined this exact moment?

  That smile. No fantasy could ever compare to that.

  I point to a cupboard to his right and watch him pick up some plates and utensils. But I force myself back to focus on cooking. I can’t have our food burning when I’m spending my first morning with Tatum.

  Get it together, Ayesha!

  I had the most wonderful breakfast in my life that morning.

  We go back to his almost empty apartment in the afternoon so we could get more of his clothes. He’d brought some essentials and a few spare clothes yesterday, but he’s going to need more if he’s going to stay for a longer time.

  Just thinking about him staying makes my heart flutter.

  He opens the walk-in closet for me, and I bring in a suitcase so I could pack his clothes. Meanwhile, he goes to the bathroom to gather items like his bath towels, shaving cream, and the like for hygiene maintenance.

  I step into the closet and not for the first time, I’m amazed by how wealthy and high-class Tatum is. The closet isn’t so big as to be called opulent, but the sleek design and spacious layout gave away the luxurious lifestyle he’s had until now.

  His clothes are arranged neatly and categorized according to color. The dress shirts hang on several rows, with dozens of shoes laid out under them. A full-length mirror is mounted to one side complete with well-placed lighting.

  I walk to where his ties are located and wondered how we’re supposed to bring everything with us. He had so many clothes. I guess I should have expected it from a rich man like him.

 

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