The Pillow Lady Won't Renew

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Harrison Wells has severe insomnia. That is the only reason I exist in his world.

I have been the housekeeper's daughter living in his shadow since I was thirteen, but I became his paid bedwarmer the day I turned eighteen.

He cycles through girlfriends like disposable vapes. But no matter how wild the party gets, or how messy the night becomes, he kicks them out before midnight.

Because he needs me to sleep.

We have been together for ten years. Long enough for him to think I am furniture. A permanent fixture that will never leave.

Until the ten-year contract expired.

He was spiraling over a new girl. Street racing at 3 AM, staying awake for a three-day bender just to chase her.

His mother, Rose Kelly, slid the renewal contract across the marble table. She did not even look at me.

She knew I needed the money. She knew I would sign.

I stared at the paper. Silence stretched in the cold room.

Finally, I whispered.

"No. I'm done."

Chapter 1

I arrived at the penthouse suite just as Harrison's latest obsession was leaving.

The room smelled like expensive perfume and mistakes. The air was thick with the scent of what they had just done.

Samantha Lee stood there. Her cheeks were flushed, hair messy.

"You are really kicking me out?" she pouted.

Then she saw me. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Sorry, we didn't order the maid."

Harrison let out a short, cruel laugh. "She is not housekeeping. She is mine."

Samantha blinked, stunned. "You just finished with me, and you're already reloading?"

Harrison leaned against the headboard, chest bare, eyes dark with lingering lust. He looked at me with that arrogant smirk.

"Problem with my sleep aid?"

He grabbed a pen, scribbled a check, and flicked it toward her.

"Done. Get out."

I stood in the corner, waiting for the usual routine. The tears, the bargaining, the eventual acceptance of the hush money.

But Samantha surprised me. She slapped the check back onto the nightstand.

"Keep your dirty money, Wells." She tossed her hair back. "I got what I wanted, too."

She slammed the door on her way out.

Harrison stared at the rejected check. For a second, a flicker of surprise crossed his face.

Then the mask slid back into place. He reached for me, pulling me into the bed with practiced ease.

His arm locked around my waist. He buried his face in my neck.

But the scent of her perfume still lingered. It suffocated me.

I looked down. A bright red lipstick stain branded his collar.

A territorial mark. Loud and clear.

He felt me stiffen. His voice was raspy, heavy with sleep.

"What?"

I pointed at the stain. My face remained blank. "Lipstick."

Harrison seemed to be in a good mood. He actually had patience tonight. "You want me to change?"

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

He paused, thinking. "Fine. Let us sleep somewhere else."

"Your place."

I froze. He never went to my place.

But we had shared a bed for ten years. It did not really matter where we slept.

I nodded.

Back at my apartment.

Harrison changed into the pajamas I kept for him. He walked straight to my bed and lay down.

He was big, taking up most of the space. He pulled me into his arms, one hand on my waist, the other on my back.

Trapping me.

He held me tight, like I really was just a pillow.

I am picky about sleep. My sheets are pastel pink. My mattress is soft. My pillows smell like lavender fabric softener.

I have stuffed animals lined up against the wall. It is small, but it is safe.

Now, Harrison Wells, the dark, toxic billionaire, was squeezed into my tiny pink bed.

He looked ridiculous.

He lowered his head. His nose brushed the top of my hair.

"Paisley Park," he mumbled. "Why does your bed smell so good?"

My eyes were heavy. "I just washed the sheets."

He did not stop. He sniffed the air, then moved closer. His nose grazed the sensitive skin of my neck.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against my spine. "No. It is you."

His breath was hot on my skin. Shivers raced down my back.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I looked up to say something, but my lips accidentally brushed his jaw.

We both froze.

Panic rose in my throat. I tried to scoot away, afraid he would hear my heart pounding.

He yanked me back. His grip was iron.

"Running away?" he whispered.

His large hand covered my shoulder.

"Relax. I don't like breaking bones. You're safe."

Chapter 2

I always knew Harrison did not like me.

Actually, he barely tolerated me.

I have been his shadow from thirteen to twenty-three. Ten years.

When he was thirteen, he was taken by corporate rivals. I do not know what happened to him, but he came back broken. He could not sleep.

The doctors suggested a companion. Someone to calm him down. A living anchor.

When Harrison returned broken and sleepless, I was the only one who could calm him downsitting on the rug, reading to him while he slept.

Hundreds of parents lined up with their kids.

I clutched my number, drowning in thrift-store hand-me-downs, shrinking into the crowd. I was exhausted from working the day before. I squatted in the corner and fell asleep.

Harrison walked out, surrounded by bodyguards. He looked bored. Angry. He scanned the crowd.

His eyes landed on me, the quiet girl from the servants' quarters who had always been invisible to him.

He pointed a finger. "Her."

That was how it startedinnocent readings at his bedside, until we grew up and money ruined everything.

But I grew up.

Rose Kelly watched me like a hawk. She warned me constantly. "Know your place, Paisley."

So I buried my crush. Deep.

I watched him date model after model.

Every night, I would knock on his door. "Mr. Wells? Time for sleep."

To him, I was no different than the girls he paid to leave.

We were all there for the money.

But they gave him pleasure. I was just the buzzkill.

He grew tired of me. He tried to sleep without me.

He realized quickly that ten years is a long time. His body was addicted to my presence. He could not function without me.

The doctors said he needed to be happy to sleep.

So for ten years, I walked on eggshells. I soothed him. I obeyed him. I just wanted him to have peace.

Sometimes, when his mood was dark, he would lash out.

"Stop pretending you care, Paisley. You are just here for the paycheck."

I pushed the love down, ignoring the sting. "Yes. Just for the check."

I hid it well.

I even called him "Sir" in my diary.

Until I was nineteen. He saved me from debt collectors. He was cold, terrifying, and beautiful.

That night, I broke my own rule. I wrote his name in my diary.

By the time I snapped out of it, the page was covered in ink. I love Harrison.

I panicked. I wanted to tear the page out.

But I could not do it.

I locked the diary in the bottom drawer of my nightstand.

It had a password. No one would find it.

Chapter 3

I woke up the next morning to find Harrison sitting in my chair.

The drawer was ripped open.

He held the diary in his hand.

"What is this?" he asked. His voice was flat.

My blood ran cold.

Five years of secret, pathetic love. Exposed.

"How..." My voice cracked.

"Tried passwords all morning," he smirked. "Turns out, it is my birthday."

He held up the diary, squinting at the page.

"Four years ago... wow. You are playing the long game, babe."

His tone was soft. Deadly.

I looked at the floor, waiting for the humiliation.

Riiip.

The sound of paper tearing sliced through the room.

Harrison stared at me, deadpan. He tore the page out.

Then he shredded it.

He tossed the pieces into the trash can like they were nothing.

"What were you fantasizing about?" he scoffed.

"Paisley, did you really think a piece of paper would lock me down?"

He leaned in, his eyes dark and cruel.

"Those other girls do anything I ask. Can you?"

Chapter 4

Harrison went ghost for three days.

He probably couldn't stand the sight of me.

I had no way to track him. I didn't know where he was or who he was with. I just waited.

On the fourth night, a knock rattled my door.

Daniel Hayes stood there, supporting a dead-weight Harrison. Daniel gave me a polite, apologetic nod.

"Mr. Wells had a bit too much tonight. I'll leave him in your hands, Miss Park."

My job description was "human sleep aid," not "nurse." But whenever he was drunk or sick, I was the one cleaning up the mess.

I frowned. Harrison could hold his liquor like a sailor. How much did he drink to get like this?

I hauled him to the bed, then went to the kitchen for ice water and two Advil.

I was staring at the glass, lost in thought, when a wall of heat pressed against my back.

Harrison's arms locked around my waist. He slumped forward, resting his heavy chin on my shoulder.

His voice was a rough scrape against my ear.

"Ley..."

I froze.

He never called me that.

Usually, it was a cold "Paisley." On rare days, when he wanted to mock me, it was "Baby" or "Honey," dripping with sarcasm.

But this wasn't cold. It wasn't sarcastic. It sounded... broken. Soft. Like an apology.

I stayed silent for a heartbeat. Then I leaned back into him.

"Does your head hurt? I have water. Just wait a sec"

He cut me off.

His lips crashed onto mine.

But it wasn't a crash. It was a landing.

Warm. Gentle.

His mouth moved to my cheek, the corner of my lips, the sensitive cord of my neck.

Shivers raced down my spine, electric and terrifying.

The fantasy I had buried at thirteen suddenly exploded into reality. I lost my voice. I lost my breath.

My brain finally rebooted. I panicked. My hands came up to push him away.

But Harrison buried his face deeper into the crook of my neck. He was drunk on alcohol and desire.

"Ley..." he groaned again.

My hands stopped in mid-air.

I am not a saint.

I am a selfish woman who sold her pride for a check.

When Harrison Wells whispered a name that sounded like mine, with a voice full of need, I couldn't fight it.

I stripped away the last layer of my dignity.

I turned around in his arms and wrapped my hands around his neck.

Chapter 5

This wasn't our first time.

Four years ago, things weren't this toxic.

We studied together. We looked at colleges. We mapped out a future where we existed in the same orbit.

Then Rose Kelly cornered me. I panicked. I looked her in the eye and lied.

"I am only here for the money. I have no feelings for your son."

I even demanded a raise to prove it.

Harrison heard every word.

That was the first time he looked at me with hate.

That night, desperate for my mother's surgery fees, I knocked on his door. He looked at me with cold, calculating eyes, holding the check that would save my mother's life.

"Just for money? Fine."

He slammed the door.

"Since you love money so much, Paisley... how much to verify that you're really mine tonight?"

We were both inexperienced.

He was rough. Angry. There were no kisses, only a punishing rhythm meant to remind me of my placea purchased object, not a lover.

He just gritted his teeth and asked, "Anyone with a checkbook can have you, right? Is that it?"

I unbuttoned my blouse with shaking hands, swallowing my pride. I couldn't let him see the love, so I just showed him the submission he paid for.

So I nodded. "Yes."

Chapter 6

That night four years ago was nothing but pain. Physical pain. Heart pain.

So when this drunk, gentle Harrison kissed me and whispered that name, my defenses shattered.

We squeezed into my small, pink bed.

I gave him everything. I matched his rhythm. I let him wreck me.

My body, which he usually mocked for being too thin, was flushed red under his touch.

I didn't want to analyze the truth in his drunken eyes.

He was saying a name. It sounded like Ley. It sounded like me.

For years, his flings were just transactions.

Just like that awful night four years ago. No warmth. No kissing.

But tonight...

When it was over, he didn't roll away.

He pulled me against his chest. He kissed my lips, soft and lingering, like he couldn't get enough.

His hand spanned my waist.

I was still trembling, my mind drifting in a haze of endorphins.

Harrison chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "You are so tiny. How did you handle all that?"

His hand stroked my spine, soothing the tremors.

I closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat.

Maybe... just maybe... Harrison felt something for me too.

Chapter 7

Harrison slept like the dead.

It was the best sleep he'd had in years.

He didn't stir until noon.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, vibrating against the wood.

I didn't want the noise to wake him. My body ached, but I reached over and grabbed the phone.

The screen lit up. My blood turned to ice.

Caller ID: Lee.

The world stopped. The ringing faded into a high-pitched whine in my ears.

A horrific realization clawed at my throat.

Ley. Lee.

I looked down at Harrison. He was waking up.

He usually woke up angry. But today, his eyes were clear. He took the phone from my frozen hand.

A woman's voice poured out of the speaker. Bright. Flirty. Familiar.

"Harrison! I heard you haven't slept in three days. You ditched your little human pillow and raced your car just to chase me down?"

"Mmm, since you are so dedicated... I guess I forgive you."

"I'm free tonight. Come over. I'm ready to play."

It was Samantha Lee. The girl from the hotel.

Harrison smiled. A real smile. He hummed a low response.

The call ended.

His smile faded. The cold mask slid back into place. He looked at me, then at the bed.

He frowned.

"Why were you in my bed last night?"

My fingernails dug into my palm. I felt the skin break.

The realization hit me like a truck.

The gentleness. The kisses. The whispering.

He wasn't calling me Ley for Paisley. He was calling for Lee. Samantha Lee.

I stared at him for a long time. I closed my eyes.

"It was me. Who else would it be?"

Harrison went silent.

Finally, he let out a short sigh.

"Babe, you really are obsessed with me."

He reached for his checkbook. He tore off two checks this time and slapped them against my chest.

He laughed, but his eyes were empty.

"You were obedient last night. This should cover it."

"But listen to me. Stick to being a pillow. Don't hallucinate about anything else."

Chapter 8