A/N: I came across a very good quote the other day…

'Love is like a Taxi. When you are looking for it, it never appears, and you are left standing in the rain, waiting impatiently for it to arrive. But just when you give up and start walking away, it appears right beside you. The only thing left, is whether or not you now have the courage to take it.'

By the way, this is the dress I imagined Lizzy wearing in the photoshoot in this chapter. I genuinely love Alex Perry's designs!

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Please Enjoy!

Will tossed and turned for the zillionth time. He rubbed the nape of his neck, then sat up straight. He scowled in the general direction of her room. It was all her fault he wasn't able to sleep. He'd never felt this uncomfortable in his own home before. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea have her so close.

He sighed and eventually chose to stand up, stretching out his tense muscles. It was really unsettling, knowing she was only separated from him by a thin wall, he thought, as he ambled out in search of water. He was definitely physically attracted to her, but emotionally… he wasn't too sure. This was the girl who had shown up, looking like she'd just been involved in a drunken street fight, all bloodied and soaking, and had practically sold herself to him. He shook his head. Lizzy Bennette had to be no different from the rest. It was only lust she inspired in him. Raw lust. Sensual, animal lust. He mentally slapped himself – then froze as he saw a small figure slumped over in a chair. He blinked, and inched closer.

She was at the raised kitchen counter, slumped over the worktop, fast asleep. A big black hoodie swamped her body. A pair of shorts peeked out from underneath. She frowned in her sleep, and tossed her head slightly. A ridiculously thick book lay open on the high countertop, with a hastily scribbled sheet of notes next to it.

Will dithered, unsure of what to do. He glared at her restless form. What was she doing out so late, anyway? He glanced at the opened book. It was a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets. Interested, he picked up the sheet and read her cramped handwriting.

Sonnet LXIV

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defac'd
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-raz'd,
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;
When I have seen such interchange of state,
Or state itself confounded to decay;
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate
That Time will come and take my love away.
This thought is as a death which cannot choose
But weep to have that which it fears to lose.

The passage of time and the ravages of decay affect human life in unfathomable ways. What once seemed so solid, will eventually come to nothing. Time is the ultimate obstacle humanity fails to rally against. All things must come to an end – an age long philosophy of life.

Will felt a cold flash run over his skin. Her own words at the bottom were etched hard into the sheet, the scratch of her pen harshly curtailing the tails of letters. This was not the philosophy of a woman on the cusp of life; it was the words of a war-hardened veteran who has seen more than has ever cared for, who watched life pass by emotionlessly. He realised how little he actually knew of this girl, who despite everything remained an intriguing enigma. His eyes ran once more over the text.

"Amusing yourself there?" Will jumped and raised his head. Lizzy sat slowly upright, blinking a few times. He noticed dark circles forming in the hollows of her eyes.

"Interesting analysis you've got there." He handed the paper back. She took it, and skimmed through it.

"It's an underrated sonnet. I'm working on a paper arguing the importance and significance of other Shakespeare sonnets in comparison to the famous sonnet 18, which I really hate."

"Ah, the notorious, 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate."

She looked at him in surprise. A small smile formed on her lips. "Yes, that one. So, what brings you on your midnight stroll?"

He shrugged. "Just felt restless." He became horribly conscious he was only wearing a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.

"Me too. It feels weird here. I mean, your house is really nice and all, but I'm not really used to it yet." She grinned at him.

Will reached towards the liquor cabinet. He was going to need something stronger than a glass of cold water. He paused and turned back towards her. "Would you like a drink as well? It might help you settle down."

She shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

He reached for the whiskey – then stopped, and grabbed the red wine. It would suit her better. "Here." He laid out two glasses, and poured the aromatic liquid into it. "Cheers."

"Cheers." She clinked her glass lightly against his. He raised the glass to his lips, and felt the drink run soothingly down his throat. He suddenly felt warmer.

"You know," he heard her start, laying her glass on the countertop, "even though we're in this agreement, and live together, I still don't know vey much about you."

"Well, what would you like to know?" Despite himself, he felt flattered. He attributed it to the time of night, and the wine.

"Let's ask each other questions. Nothing too personal, of course, just enough to get more comfortable with each other's presence." She looked at him questioningly.

"Alright." He sat down opposite her, and watched her close her book. "Who's going first?"

"You go." She leant forwards, her chin in her hands, waiting for his first question.

"Hmm… What's your favourite food?"

"Spaghetti. Any kind. I'd love to go to Italy one day, just to eat." She smiled a little guiltily. "On a scale of attractiveness from one to ten, what would you rate yourself as?"

He spluttered at her question. "I gave you a simple one!" She smirked evilly. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Around… seven I guess."

"Come on. That's so typical."

"How is that typical? I just rated myself," he protested.

"Seven is the 'modest number'. Everyone picks seven," she explained matter-of-factly. "Most people who pick seven actually rate their own attractiveness higher than that, but think it's more appropriate, or palatable to the questioner if they appear modest and pick a pretty mundane number like seven. Six means they're too insecure, and eight seems too full of themselves. But answer truthfully."

Will groaned. "Why do you have to look into everything so carefully?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Alright, alright. 8 and a half." He scowled at his glass. She leaned back, pleased. "What do you consider your best physical feature?" He poured them both more wine.

"That's easy. My collarbones." She sounded pleased with herself.

Will snorted. She had so many attractive assets, yet she had to pick such a strange one. "Why?"

"I don't know. But they always look nice when I'm wearing a strapless dress. Who do you prefer, Angelina Jolie, or Scarlett Johansson?"

"Angeline Jolie. I don't know who the other one is." He watched her pout in disappointment. "Name 3 things you hate."

"Bicycles, non-cheesy pizza, oh, and lifts. I have a phobia of them."

"Of lifts?"

She nodded. "I hate lifts. Or just any small, moving, enclosed space. I have to always take the stairs," she admitted.

"Really- Wait, so today, you walked up here? Walked up 26 flights of stairs?" He gaped at her.

"Yep. I got the doorman to take my boxes up in the lift, and I tackled the stairs."

Will shook his head in disbelief. "That's crazy."

"Not crazy. Just inconvenient."

An hour later, they were still playing the game, the questions becoming more nosy with every sip of wine.

"So…" Will laughed as she slopped wine messily into her glass. "When was your first?"

"My first what?" She looked at him with mischievous eyes. She knew exactly what he meant.

"What do you think? Your first dental appointment?" He rolled his eyes.

"Let's see." She put down her glass, looking thoughtful. "I was seventeen. I was living with my aunt and uncle here in London, attending school here." She placed a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "He lived a few streets away. I think he was two years older than me. We were going out, but not seriously. It wasn't planned. We'd both had a little to drink, and wanted to experiment. I didn't enjoy it. We broke up soon after that. Not the most romantic affair." She looked at him. "And you?"

"Can't ask the same question."

"You just made that rule up." She pouted and swatted at him. "Fine. When did you first fall in love?"

"That's a tricky question." Will swivelled the wine around in the glass and probed his memory. "I don't know if it really was love, but I had a pretty serious relationship with my university girlfriend. Her name's Vanessa and we were together from our second year, to a year after we graduated. I was being shown the ropes of the business, and didn't have much time for her, so we split up on good terms. I still meet her every now and then to chat. She's a good friend. Like I said, I don't know if we were really in love, but I had more fun with her than any other girl."

Lizzy glanced over him quickly as he was talking. She sighed. She simply couldn't get over his good looks. His profile showed a sharp, chiselled jaw line, mysterious, burning eyes, a mouth forever curled into some kind of sarcastic smile. She leaned back into the chair grumpily. It would make her plans for the next 6 months so much easier if he were just a few shades less attractive.

"What did you feel, when you were with her?" she pressed.

"For a while, I was really obsessed with her, during the first few months we went out. Like, if your ask me about our first few dates, I can't remember what I ate when we went out to restaurants, but I can remember clearly what she ordered, and what she wore, and the perfume she wore. But, it was mostly infatuation and hormones, not love. I don't know for sure though."

"That's sweet." Lizzy looked enraptured by the story. "I don't think I'm capable of falling in love."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. She shook her head. "Nothing at all." She yawned exaggeratedly, and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Is that the time? I should go and try to sleep. I've got a lecture at noon tomorrow, and then I've got to meet up with Mike." She uncrossed her long legs and stood up slowly. "Night." She waved her fingers at him.

"Goodnight." She smiled, then stumbled off towards her new room.

He watched her door slowly close.

"Hola, people," Lizzy yawned as she entered the studio. "Good afternoon."

"Ready to work?" Jay the hairdresser smirked at her.

"Nope." She collapsed into a chair and swung her legs onto the counter. "I'm shattered. The professor just kept droning on and on and on and on-"

"I get the idea. Hey, get your feet away from my precious station." He slapped her ankles and hoisted her legs away.

"Sorry." She tilted her head back and sighed in satisfaction as he ran his fingers expertly through her hair.

"So… how's it going with your new man? Phil Darlington, or something."

"Will Darcy," Celia, the style co-ordinator corrected. She sighed as she inspected Lizzy's bitten nails. "Liz, what did I say about biting your nails?"

"It's a dirty, bad habit that ruins the enamel on both my teeth and nails," Lizzy reeled off. "Yeah, you've told me a million times before. Sorry."

Celia rolled her eyes. "Whatever. So, what about you and Will? What's he like in private?" she asked eagerly.

"Ehhh… We're doing good. Just fine," she said quickly, trying to avoid the details.

"C'mon," she cajoled. "Tell me a bit about your love-life. I've had a shit day, with Mike going over the photoshoot's concept to me 17 times. Amuse me," she demanded.

"I hate this subject," she mumbled, pouting her lips. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Is he a good kisser?" Celia pounced on her, her eyes shining. "Tell me!" she begged.

"Did you have to ask that question first?"

"C'mon, Liz! Spill the goods!" Celia ignored Jay as he shook his head at her.

"Uh, he's…" Lizzy trailed off, remembering that goddamn party. The warmness of his smooth lips on hers, how his hands had trailed up her spine, leaving her shivering in desire… She felt herself blushing. She wriggled uncomfortably. "He's adequate."

"Aww! Look Jay! Lizzy's blushing." Celia pinched her cheek. She scowled and pulled away.

"Stay still, Liz." Jay poked her head with a brush.

"Anyway, next question. Does he spoil you a lot? Like, buy you expensive shoes, and perfume? Does he take you to famous restaurants? Has he, like, named a star after you?"

"Cee, that's just embarrassing."

"Shut up, Jay. God, men have no sense of romance." Celia shook her head in exasperation. "So, Liz?"

"He's, um, generous. Uh, he gave me a cup of coffee this morning."

Celia shook her head. "You know that's not what I mean."

She gave up and lied. "We might be going on holiday when he has a break. Some exotic retreat," she fibbed.

"Ooh! Where?" she pressed.

"Eh… Hawaii." Lizzy said. Hawaii was exotic, right?

"Awesome! Oh, one more thing." She leaned in closer to Lizzy. "Is he… uh, you know, well packaged down there?"

"Cee! Ugh…" Lizzy cringed away from her.

Jay slammed his brush down. "That's it Celia, I'm going. I'll come back once you finish your sick interrogation." He squeezed Lizzy's mortified shoulder. "I feel sorry for you."

"Well?" Celia flipped her hair impatiently.

"Don't! It's embarrassing…" She stuck her face into the back of the chair.

"Don't be such a prude." Celia dragged her out with sharp nails. "Lizzy darling, brighten up my boring, unromantic life, pleeeaaassseee… Lizzy bear… is he a… satisfactory size?"

Lizzy buried her face in her hands. "YES," she squeaked out, then leapt out her seat. "I gotta call to make!" she called over her shoulder, before sprinting for the exit.

Lizzy leaned against the cold concrete wall. She sighed. Ah, that was so embarrassing… She touched her cheeks with the back of her hands. She was still blushing. She scrambled in her short's pockets for her phone. Sliding it open, she pressed speed dial number 5. She raised the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" The voice on the line sounded impatient.

"What am I supposed to say to them?" Lizzy hissed down the line.

"Lizzy? What are you on about?" He sounded slightly surprised she had called him.

"When the team start asking about us, do I ignore them, or make things up?" She paced the length of the narrow corridor.

"Try and stay as close to the truth as possible," he said in a bored voice. "C'mon, you're a clever girl. Surely, you don't need me to figure this out for you."

"Well, excuse me," she snapped, "but it's kinda hard when they start asking things like-" She broke off and blushed harder. "When they ask awkward stuff!" she concluded quickly.

"What have they asked?" He sounded like he was smirking at the phone.

"You- I- Bu-" She stuttered to a halt. "You don't want to know," she said darkly.

"They asked… how to put this, how big I am, didn't they?"

Lizzy gaped at her phone. "How did you- Wait- Not all women are that sick-minded!"

"Aw… embarrassed?" came his smug drawl. "The predictability of a woman's curiosity. So, what was your answer to your curious friend?"

Lizzy fell silent.

"Well? I'm intrigued."

"I-I just walked away."

"You're lying. I can tell by the stutter in your voice."

"Ugh!" Lizzy stomped her feet, frustrated.

"You told them I was well-endowed, didn't you?" He emphasised his words smugly."

"What the- Do you have a camera rigged up here, or something?" she demanded, avoiding a straight answer.

"So you did. Well, would you like to check the truth of your answer for yourself?" She could almost see his self-satisfied smile.

"You're sick," she spat. She slid the phone shut hard. "Ugh, that stupid, pompous pric-"

"Lizzy!" Mike's dishevelled hair stuck out the door. He goggled at her. "Why are you made-up yet?" he screeched. He dragged her by the wrist towards the dressing room. "The Burberry representatives are here to observe the shoot, to see if they want to contract you for their autumn campaign! Get your act together?" He hauled her in. "Understand?"

"Yes, yes, sorry." Lizzy paused. "Wait. Who's the client for today's shoot?"

"Elizabeth!"

She winced at the use of her full name. "Sorry."

He heaved a sigh. "It's Alex Perry's British line launch. You're gonna be one of the first British models to model an Alex Perry creation. Don't forget to attend his the launching of his store on Regent Street next week. And try and bring Darcy."

"Why does he have to-"

"Shut up, go let Celia slather some make-up on, and Jay curl your hair. Hurry." He shoved her back in firmly.

"Mike?" Lizzy stuck her head through the door. "You finished talking with them?"

"Yup. Good job today." He smiled tiredly at her. "I just sent some digital shots to Alex Perry, and he's satisfied. He says he's sorry he had to leave early. And, Burberry seems really interested. I'd say you stand a great shot. The only other candidate really is Emma Watson."

"I thought Keira Knightley was interested." Lizzy hopped into the room.

"She was. But there's some kind of conflict with the filming of her upcoming movie. All the better for us." He eyed her carefully. "I have something to say to you."

"What?" She tapped her foot. "Hey, I just came to say you did an awesome job today. Those frames were magnificent."

He gestured to the seat before him. "Sit down."

"Eh, Mike? Can I go and change first? I know this dress looks pretty, and floaty and all, but there's this kind of built in corset, and it is killing me. My lungs are crushing. Cee and Jay had to practically sow me into it."

"In a minute. I need to speak to you first."

She sighed with difficulty. "Alright. But make it quick, you've got approximately 3 minutes before my lungs collapse."

Mike cut straight to the point. "Don't get too close to him."

She frowned. "I can't help it if we become friends, Mike. We have to find some way to co-exist. After all, we are living together."

"That's not what I meant. We both know that this agreement has happened because of your family's circumstances. Lizzy," he said, sitting close to her, "this guy has no conscience. He takes advantage of the fact that you have no other choice than to accept his offer, because of your mother's debt. It is highly likely he was the one that slipped you in the first place. He's like a monster."

"C'mon, Mike, he's not really as bad as that," she laughed. She tossed a stray curl back over a slim shoulder. "If anything, I should be thankful that he made me that offer so I can relieve the debt. And, he didn't take advantage of my circumstance, because he has no idea why I accepted his offer. I didn't tell him about mother. So the fact that he has been quite nice to me since we agreed upon his offer shows he's not that bad. He's still amiable to me, despite the fact he probably thinks I'm a ruthless gold-digger, eyeing his shiny Visa card. And, we kind of unconsciously made this agreement not to talk about what happened at the party. I'm not even sure I think it was him who slipped me anymore."

Mike frowned lightly. She was already beginning to defend him. This wasn't good. "Listen, Liz. I got someone to make sure he wasn't doing any funny business with us-"

"You got a private investigator to spy upon him?" she spluttered.

He ignored her. "-and he came back with this picture." He swivelled his monitor screen to face her. "There's this woman he often meets up with, and takes her to dinner, to the movies. She once visited him in his apartment."

Lizzy eyed the tall, tanned woman on the screen. She shrugged unconcernedly. "It's probably Vanessa, his Uni girlfriend. Anyway, he's fully entitled to have a 'real' relationship on the side. It's not like we're really going out."

"What I'm trying to say it, don't fall for him. Alright, he's perfectly nice to you at the moment – he's handsome, charming and says all the right things. But he is not with you because he has affections for you. He is doing this to make the media love him, to make them believe he isn't a playboy. So, don't jeopardize everything because of him, Lizzy. Don't be sucked into his spiral, the glamorous world he lives in. This is beneficial for us, for your career, but it is essentially a contract, just like in business. Don't treat it anything more than just business."

She gave a short, hard laugh. "I won't. Since you've known me, Mike, have you ever once seen me lose control of myself completely, and open up to someone like that? You should know better than to think I'll become a crying, needy sack of hormones."

"That's my Liz." He dragged her up. "Now, if you want to go and change, go."

She gave him a sincere hug. "Thanks for the chat," she called after him."

"Pull yourself together, Liz," she told herself sternly, trudging up the last flight of stairs. Her legs ached from the combined effort of balancing in gorgeous, but deadly heels during the shoot, and 26 steep flights of stairs. "This is business. It's not your concern who he goes out with, where he is." Her thoughts wandered back to the picture on the computer screen. She pushed it quickly out her mind. Maybe that talk with Mike was just the kick she'd needed.

She searched in her giant bag for her keys. Sweatpants, textbooks, Ipod earphones, a chocolate bar… she rifled through it quickly.

The door swung open. "Welcome back," came a lazy drawl.

"How did you know I was standing outside? Don't tell me you've been opening the door every two minutes." She squeezed past him and kicked her shoes off, rubbing her ankles.

"I could hear someone scrambling in their bag outside. Lost your keys already?" He followed her into the kitchen area.

"No. They're somewhere in my bag." She scanned the contents of the fridge.

"Next time, take something remotely resembling a bag," he said, eyeing her giant black bag distastefully.

"Did you eat my jelly?" She scowled at him.

Will shrugged and wandered back into the living room area. She followed. "Tell me, what kind of twenty year old still buys jelly to eat?"

"What kind of twenty-eight year old still steals other people's food?" She flopped onto the sofa across from him. "Ah, I was so looking forwards to eating that." She massaged her aching ankles regretfully.

"Actually, I'm still twenty-seven. Not quite twenty-eight yet."

"I think we should set some rules for the time I'm here."

"Like what?" he smirked.

"Rule one – don't touch my food."

"Are you really that upset over a little bit of jelly?" he snorted.

"Actually, scratch that, don't touch my belongings in general."

"That's a good rule." He sipped some water. "It has to apply both ways, though."

She gave him a scathing look. "What, do you think I'm gonna go trash your precious room? Don't worry, your secret collection of porn is safe from me."

He glared at her.

"Rule two – We'll act the perfect couple in public. When interviewed, we'll say nice, but ambiguous things about each other. But, there's no need to upkeep the illusion in private." She brushed an imaginary strand of hair from her trenchcoat. "After all, this is purely business. Just like a contract. Just business," she added softly.

He looked at her quickly, his features hardening. "Fine," he said in a clipped voice. "Next rule."

"Rule three – There's not need to interfere in each other's private lives. We both have things I suppose we'd rather remain secret. We won't question where the other is going when we leave the house, who we meet up with, what time they'll be home unless there's a need." An image of the tall, tanned woman floated across her mind. "And also," she added quickly. "Neither of us are obligated towards the other, so we're free to have relationships on the side, as long as they remain unnoticed by the media." She offered him a small smile. There. I've injected a freeway for you to continue your romance.

His expression shut down. He shrugged tightly. "If that's what suits you." He got up and walked towards the window. He stared out across the dark sky and yellow lights of the sprawling city. "And if one of us breaks one of the rules?"

"They get what they came in this agreement for without needing to satisfy the other." Her voice came from beside him. He looked at her. The darkness veiled her expression. He could make out the red of her pouted lips, the creaminess of the skin at the neck. The light coloured trenchcoat she wore made her eyes look lighter. "Most of the rules aren't really serious, so this only applies to if one of us has another relationship and is discovered. So, if I break that rule, I stay your girlfriend for the full duration of the 6 months, without you needing to pay me. And if you break it, I get the full monetary compensation, without needing to stay."

"If you like."

"And if you break, any of the other rules…" she placed a finger thoughtfully on her chin. She smiled devilishly at him "You have to buy me ice-cream," she said in a sing-song voice.

He chuckled internally, but remained stony. "Well good luck in your romantic endeavours then," he sneered. "Did you already have a certain someone in mind as you were formulating your rules?"

"I'm going for a shower." She turned to go. He turned back to stare at the indigo sky.

"You know… this is just a business contract. Nothing more. You're still free." He heard her say softly. "Don't let me stand between you."

"What are you-" he started.

He heard her door thud close.

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed my fanfic so far… I have taken every single one of your criticisms on board.

Panda.193 – Thanks for liking my Jane! There's been mixed reviews about her (. poor Jane!) so I'm glad someone liked her. I'm not sure if I'll do a flashback to that scene. I'm not quite sure where to stick it in though, as I still haven't completely organised or planned it yet. So, we'll see! Sometimes it's nice to leave something to the reader's imagination… Thanks for your review

Thanks a lot everyone!

As usual, I'd love for you to review… reading them makes me so happy.

Lots of Love,

Mint xxx (everyone loving 2011 so far?)