Page 7 of Her Holiday Arrangement

Elizabeth’s expression didn’t change. “Fine.”

“Second, separate beds if possible. Or at least… no spooning. And no morning cuddles. Or late-night cuddles. Or any accidental nakedness.”

Elizabeth blinked once. “Noted.”

“And third, if you start falling in love with me, which would be understandable given my unrelenting charm and tragically relatable backstory, youhaveto tell me so I can flee before it gets messy.”

Elizabeth actually laughed. A dry, short sound, more breath than amusement, but it made Riley’s heart do a strange little skip.

“You’ll be the first to know,” Elizabeth said.

Riley exhaled sharply and leaned back, covering her face with both hands. “This is either going to be the best idea of my life or a complete flaming disaster.”

Elizabeth sipped her coffee, utterly unbothered. “I prefer not to deal in binaries.”

“Oh my god,” Riley said, dropping her hands. “Youarea robot.”

“I’m efficient,” Elizabeth corrected. “There’s a difference.”

They sat in silence for a moment, broken only by the quiet tick of the designer clock on the far wall.

Finally, Riley said, “What happens if your family asks how we met?”

Elizabeth didn’t hesitate. “At work. Classic boss-assistant scenario. Slow-burn, enemies to lovers.”

“Have you been reading romance novels?”

Elizabeth gave her a level look. “I dosomeresearch before entering into complex arrangements.”

Riley giggled, half-horrified, half-thrilled. “This is going to be such a mess.”

Elizabeth stood. “Pack warm clothes. We leave tomorrow.”

Riley blinked. “Wait.Tomorrow?”

“Is that a problem?”

Riley opened her mouth to say yes. That she hadn’t done laundry. That her car wouldn’t make it across town. That her nerves were already frayed from one too many frozen dinners and overdue bills.

But then she remembered: Rent. Student loans. Her perpetually dying phone. And the fact that somewhere deep down, she wanted to spend Christmas beside Elizabeth, even if it was all pretend.

So instead, she stood too.

“No problem,” she said. “Fake girlfriend reporting for duty.”

“Perfect. And here’s my end of the deal,” Elizabeth said as she tapped on her tablet a few times before lifting it for Riley to see.

Riley stared at the screen of Elizabeth’s tablet as if it had grown horns.

“That can’t be real,” she muttered, blinking hard.

Across the glossy marble kitchen island, Elizabeth tapped once more, finalizing the transfer. “It’s real.”

Riley’s phone buzzed a second later. She fumbled for it, still stunned, and opened her banking app with trembling fingers.

Her breath hitched.

Five digits. Commas. A balance that made her light-headed.