Jezebel |h.s|

Thirty Three

Isabella

Okay. Maybe I lied about the apartment being clean. But in my defense, I had every intention of cleaning.

Rushing back into the house from work, I get started on putting the apartment in order. From shoving my dirty clothes into laundry bags and leaving them hidden in Kat's room, to quickly trying to vacuum while Rory barks at my feet. It's chaos, but it has to get done.

In order to encourage myself to actually clean, I decided that I can't change out of my dancewear until the apartment is in order. It doesn't have to be spotless, but it would be nice if it could be. You'd think it would be easier to keep clean since I have less space than Harry, but I guess that's just being a woman.

The only reason Cornelia is kept tidy is because Harry sends a housekeeper in there once a week. He won't admit it, but I know I'm not the one folding up the towels all fancy in the bathroom. He's not either since he's way too busy to be cleaning an apartment in the middle of the day.

Kat's been curious about where I've been spending all my time lately. I mean, I can't really hide that I'm not sleeping at home. When I was working at Afterlife, yeah I was barely home, but I have nowhere to be late at night anymore. I've just been telling her that I sometimes get caught up staying with Harry, which isn't entirely a lie.

If she knew that he got us an apartment, she would think we're more serious than we really are. I mean, it sounds like a big deal for sure, but I know it's not like that. She wouldn't understand the arrangement and at this point I'm not gonna tell her about the contract. She would be more mad that I lied to her than that I became his sugar baby.

Once the apartment is deemed clean enough, or at least when all the messes are hidden somewhere Harry won't look, I finally change into the clothes I left out. Just a pair of sweatpants and a cozy, oversized sweater. I have to take Aurora out for a walk at some point too, but maybe Harry would want to come. He hasn't seen Rory in a while.

My nerves start to subside when I get his text. He's on the way.

Harry hasn't been here since the first night of our arrangement. I don't know how much of the apartment he saw when he was at our front door, but I hope he doesn't feel weird here.

Even though Kat and I pay a lot for rent, it's a pretty small space. My room barely fits all the furniture in it, same for Kat's room. Our bathroom is probably as big as Harry's elevator. At least I bought new towels.

I know Harry's been spending time at Cornelia, but as small as it is, it's still bigger than this place. I love my apartment, I love the memories Kat and I have made, but it's not something a billionaire would step foot in.

It's easy getting lost in the glamor of his world. Pretending to be like him, as if I was born into wealth or something. I get to not be Isabella Martinez for a while when I'm in his world.

But he's never been to my world. Not my real world. Sure, he saw me working at Afterlife and he sees me at the dance studio, but it's not the same. It's not really my world. Afterlife was Christian's idea of me, and even Believe is Gina's vision for her studio that I'm fulfilling. I've opened up to Harry a lot these past few weeks, but tonight I'm leaving myself fully vulnerable.

It's weird trying to imagine a man in my apartment. Usually this is my safe haven, a place where I can hide away when I'm just not feeling up for socializing. Yet here I am, inviting this man into my home to spend time here.

My heart starts to pound when there's a knock at the door. I'm not sure if it's because the last time I was home alone and someone showed up, it was Chris, or if I'm just terrified to let Harry in. I could always use the safe word if it gets too much, but I don't want to disappoint him.