Chapter 3 - Chapter Three:The lie begins

Victoria moved further inside and gulped; her throat was dry. "So, this is it," she muttered softly, more to herself than to Andrew, who followed her into the room with his normal calm stride. Andrew's eyes roamed over her, his mouth forming a little sneer. "I told you it would be temporary," he replied, his voice low and calm, like if this was just another transaction, nothing more. Everything you need will be here. You don't have to go till the six months are up. His comments, intended to be comforting, instead served to increase the discomfort in her gut. She hated to say it, but she felt imprisoned in this location. The pricey décor, the opulent furniture; it all seemed too contrived. Too... phoney. Her gaze fell on a pile of files carefully ordered on the corner's elegant desk. The first one to catch her eye was Langston Harrington. Her interest piqued, but she stayed put. Not yet. Not without attracting notice. Andrew replied, interrupting her musings, "You'll find your belongings in the guest suite." You may now start settling. Victoria's words halted him before he could go away. "I'll be alright," she said, her words coming out little more pointed than she meant. She didn't want to experience this. She didn't want to be afraid or angry, yet this location was causing her to feel precisely that. Andrew stopped at the door and looked back with something she couldn't identify. His voice was low, almost a warning. "Victoria, don't forget why you're here," he murmured. "And don't get too comfortable." The media frenzy had already started the next morning. Staring out over the vast metropolis below her, Victoria stood by the window of Andrew's apartment. The noises of a world moving forward, ignorant to the turmoil that was now her existence, she could hear the faint hum of traffic. She wasn't sure when it happened, when the cameras and reporters had turned from mere annoyance to something more significant, but here she was, surrounded by the exact thing she had formerly fought so hard to regulate. A knock on the door broke her reverie. His face expressionless as usual, Andrew walked in without waiting for a reply. "The press is waiting," he murmured, his gaze momentarily darting towards her. Victoria looked away from the window, attempting to calm her anxiety. She was prepared to confront the people. She had no option. But standing next to Andrew, pretending to be his fiancée, seemed like she was slipping further into a part she hadn't completely understood. Together they strolled to the living room, where cameras were already in place. The room was bright; the lights were severe on her skin. Questions, flashing cameras, and the hum of expectation filled the air like thickness. Victoria was next to Andrew, her heart pounding as the journalists looked at them. Quickly and cutting through the commotion, the first question emerged. Mr. Sinclair, is this genuine involvement? Or simply another corporate deal? She sensed Andrew's body next to her tighten. His face was deliberately neutral as he turned slightly to her. "It's real," he continued, his voice firm, despite the hard edge in his eyes. Victoria's heart raced. Not yet was she ready for this. What was I meant to say? One of the journalists looked to her. What about you, Ms. Harrington? Is this only a way to an end or are you really in love? Her throat seemed to stiffen. Unsure of what to say, her gaze momentarily darted to Andrew. His eyes fixed on hers, revealing nothing. His quiet, constant presence made her feel even more naked. At last, she added, pushing a grin, "I'm here since it's the correct thing to do." "To help clear my name and... go on." The reporters jotted down notes, pleased with the response, and the questions started to change, but her chest still felt tight. The burden of the examination was already unbearable. She could not help but worry how much longer she would be able to play this part. Victoria found herself at Andrew's office that night when the city's lights started to fade and the burden of the day's performance weighed over her like a thick fog. Though the penthouse had calmed and was late, her interest was insatiable. Knowing it was his territory, his shelter, she had avoided this area during the day. But now, she couldn't help herself with the prospect of solutions hovering in the air. Feeling the weight of the time, Victoria stepped to the desk and delicately brushed her fingers across the polished wood. Her focus shifted to the corner's file pile. The one marked Langston Harrington, which had earlier piqued her interest. She had to learn more. Deep breath in, she grabbed the file and her heart started to accelerate as she flipped through it. Papers. Records. Scattered documents rich with information on Andrew's estranged brother, Langston. The controversy that had almost ruined Andrew's standing. Still, there was something else. A handwritten letter hidden in the back of the file drew her attention. Reading the sentences slowly, her eyes growing wider with every line, she saw Langston was framed but the truth would ruin us all. She gasped. This was the end. The main element of the narrative she had been looking for. The sound of footsteps in the corridor, however, caused her to freeze first. Victoria's fingertips hovered above the pile of papers on Andrew's desk. Though she was aware she was crossing a line, the truth she sought was too alluring to overlook. Langston Harrington's name had been tormenting her for days; tonight, the need to find more had grown too great. Every page exposed more than she had anticipated as she combed through the papers, her heart racing. Notes, financial documents, letters; every item was like a jigsaw she had to finish. Reaching for a particularly thick file, she was stopped in her tracks by a gentle click behind her. She spun around. Standing in the doorway, Andrew's piercing blue eyes were slanted and his face was set in a mask of restrained rage. Tension crackled in the space between them. "You're snooping," he continued, his voice low but sharp with unmistakable rage. Stepping into the room, he fixed his stare on her, causing her stomach to turn. I told you about this. Victoria's pulse raced in her ears. "I wasn't snooping," she stuttered, attempting to collect her composure. "I, "You don't get to invade my past," he muttered, his voice growing colder and his jaw rigid with tension. He moved closer and his presence's strength appeared to drive her back, trapping her against the desk. Victoria's breath caught in her throat, so the world appeared to slow. The heat from his body, the raw intensity of his rage, it was like nothing she had ever experienced before. But there was also something more buried deep in his gaze that she couldn't really read. Neither of them moved for a time period. Their closeness was electric, a tempest of unspoken but evident feelings spinning between them. She gulped, attempting to overcome the strain. I'm only trying to get it. "Don't," he cut in forcefully. Victoria, this is not your concern. But as his look softened, even for a fraction of a second, she saw the suffering that remained there. Could it be regret? Shame? His voice was grim as he turned away from her. Keep out of my life. Avoid my history. Victoria's breath caught as he exited the room, his warning reverberating in the air and causing her inner struggle. Their attraction to one another was clear-cut. Still, she couldn't help but worry what he was concealing. Victoria's mind was clouded by her run-in with Andrew. His gaze, the raw intensity in his eyes as he stood so close to her, his anger obvious, haunted her. But what really disturbed her was the little time when his look had softened just enough for her to notice the flaws behind the surface. What did Andrew Sinclair conceal? She could not believe him. Not completely. But there was something about him, the way he seemed impenetrable and the way he controlled everything. Though of herself, she could not help but be attracted to him. Her thoughts racing, she sat on the edge of the guest suite bed. Though her mind was too jumbled to concentrate, her phone buzzed in her pocket and she disregarded it. Her suite door opened with a squeak. Victoria looked up to see Andrew in the entrance, his tall body throwing a shadow over the whole room. At first, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on her as though considering something within himself. What do you wish? Victoria enquired, her voice tight and revealing her own internal conflict. Before entering, Andrew paused; he shut the door behind him. "I came to apologise," he added, almost hesitantly, his voice quieter than before. Victoria's pulse raced, and she immediately suppressed her feelings. Say sorry? For what reason? For what had come before? She didn't sure if to be upset or happy. Should I say sorry? Rising a little, she got up. "For what precisely?" "For the way I talked to you," he continued, his voice low and his eyes narrowing. "I shouldn't have... let my anger control me." With her arms crossed, Victoria's body was tight. The power of his presence made it difficult for her to think clearly, thus she felt a peculiar pull to him. She started to speak back but held back. His vulnerable, almost naked posture made her pause. The room's tension grew denser. Unconsciously, she moved towards him, her fingers grazing his chest in a quick touch that left them both motionless. Victoria's feelings overwhelmed her before either of them could respond. Driven by a combination of annoyance, uncertainty, and something deeper, more hazardous, she pushed forward and kissed him, her lips crashing into his. Andrew yanked away quickly, his hands clutching her shoulders to separate them before she could enjoy the kiss. His face was unreadable; his chest rising and falling with a measured breath. "Victoria," he whispered gently, his voice a combination of annoyance and something else she couldn't identify. "This isn't included in the agreement." Stepping back, her heart stuttering and her chest tightening. "I, Words eluded her. My apologies. For just a second, Andrew's eyes softened before he turned away and walked towards the door. "Don't make this more difficult than necessary." Victoria remained still, her fingers still tingling from the touch, her head spinning with uncertainty and an odd chest pain. She had gone too far, but something told her Andrew had done it with her. They were both caught in this masquerade. Still, the question remained: what happens when reality and fantasy start to merge?