Chapter 5 Leading an Untrue Life

Sharon's POV

I felt as though I had traveled to another planet when I entered Donald's penthouse. Beautiful views of the city from the floor-to-ceiling windows, high ceilings, and furnishings so tasteful, it could have been in a museum. To put it mildly, it was overwhelming.

"Will I be residing here?" I asked, hardly raising my voice above a whisper.

With an unreadable expression, Donald nodded. It is a component of the agreement. This guarantees that people view us as a married couple. Public appearances are crucial.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable in my simple jeans and blouse, I put my suitcase down by the entrance. "It's... lovely."

Donald said, "It's practical," as he started to go into the living room. "The second door on the left, down the hall, is your room. Make yourself at home, but keep in mind that this is a collaborative effort. Don't let personal matters interfere with our arrangement.

I warily followed him as the gravity of the situation set in. In a house that seemed like a palace, I was playing wife to a guy I hardly knew, not simply a house.

"Thank you, Mr. Grant," I stumbled out.

His eyes narrowed as he paused and faced me. You must cease referring to me as "Mr. if we are to sell this falsehood. Grant. Donald is here. You understand?"

"Got it," I replied quickly, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

The next morning, Donald invited me into the dining room for what he referred to as "the ground rules."

"This is how it's going to work," he started, sitting at the head of the enormous table as I perched uncomfortably on the edge of a chair. "We'll maintain separate rooms. We conduct ourselves professionally while we're alone ourselves. Absence of emotional involvement

"Understood," I said, but the words seemed heavy.

"In public, however, we're a couple. Hand-holding, smiling, the works. People will be watching, and we can't afford to slip up."

I nodded, making notes on a paper I'd brought with me.

"And privacy is paramount," he continued. "Not even the employees can know the truth about our agreement. We're in love, and you'll stick to that story if someone asks.

I felt as though I was listening to a drill sergeant's lecture because of how cold and abrasive his tone was.

"How about Rebecca? Before I could stop myself, I blurted out.

Donald's mouth clenched. "You're not worried about Rebecca. Sharon, concentrate on your role. Nothing else is important.

Although he spoke clearly, I could tell there was more to the narrative by the strain in his voice.

Just as I was beginning to get used to the penthouse, the storm came, both literally and figuratively. Rain pummeled the windows, the skies grew gloomy, and Rebecca appeared out of the blue.

With her heels tapping on the marble floor, she stormed into the living room as if she owned the space. Her eyes were fixed on me like a predator assessing its prey, and her smile was all teeth.

"So, you're the new flavor," she replied in a contemptuous tone.

"Pardon me? I responded, surprised.

Rebecca let out a chilly, sardonic laugh. "Don't act foolish, my love. I know all about your little deal with Donald. You believe you can replace me?"

I straightened my shoulders, unwilling to let her see how much her comments frightened me. "I'm not trying to replace anyone. I'm merely carrying out my duties."

"Your occupation?" She said it again in a sarcastic tone. "Allow me to offer you some guidance, Sharon. People are not allowed to approach Donald. And he will discard you like yesterday's garbage after he has finished with you."

As Donald walked into the room, his voice broke the tension, "Rebecca, that's enough."

Her eyes did not meet her widening smile. "Dear, Donald. I recently learned about your new arrangement."

"You're going too far," he replied icily. "Give Sharon some space."

Rebecca walked confidently in his direction. "Oh, don't be concerned. I'm going out. However, you should caution your young actress that this is a risky job."

She then turned and stormed away, leaving a stifling quiet behind her.

With my heart racing, I turned to face Donald. "She is aware."

He dismissed her, saying, "She won't do anything. Rebecca enjoys drama, but she won't expose us and endanger her reputation. Simply follow the strategy."

Although I nodded, Rebecca's remarks hung over me like a threatening storm.

I believed that things had fully subsided by the next day. I was mistaken.

I came upon a news piece that made my blood run cold when browsing through my phone during a break.

"Donald Grant's Mystery Woman: Who Is She?" was the headline.

Below it was a picture of Donald and me walking to his car the previous evening. Although the image was blurry, it was still clear enough to see us together and looked far too comfortable for just a boss and secretary.

I sensed the walls getting closer.

Donald came into the room with his phone in hand, and his voice cut through my terror, "Sharon." Did you watch the news?"

Unable to say, I nodded.

"This makes things more difficult," he stated in a somber tone. "The rumors are circulating quickly. This must be addressed before it spirals out of control."

"How?" With a quivering voice, I inquired.

His face was impenetrable as he gazed at me. "We step up our efforts. We're not only acting like a couple from now on. We are experiencing it. Every moment of the day."

His remarks were like a kick to the stomach. This was no longer only a deception. I lived it.

With the weight of his announcement bearing down on me like a boulder, I gazed at him. "You mean that we never stop working?"

Donald's eyes were unblinking. That's precisely what I mean. The media won't stop until they have destroyed our tale. They will reveal everything if we make even one mistake. Furthermore, neither of us can afford that.

As the severity of what he was asking dawned on me, my breath caught. This was more than a contract now. There was no margin for error; it was a performance, a dance on a precipice.

His phone buzzed once more before I could reply. His jaw tensed as he looked at the television. Tonight is a public event. Be prepared.

I remained still as he left, gazing at my screen's flashing headline. There was no way out of the deception now that it had escaped from its confines and into the world.