The silence in the room was thick enough to choke on.
Lia Morgan sat stiffly in the leather chair opposite the man who could either save her family or let it collapse entirely. Her palms were clammy, her heart a steady hammer in her chest. She could practically hear her mother's voice in her head: "Don't let pride ruin you, Lia."
Across the table, Damien Cross looked every bit the billionaire tycoon he was. Sharp navy suit. Rolex that probably cost more than her parents' house. And a stare so cold it could freeze fire. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the oak desk between them, the only sound in the lavish office.
"This is the contract," he said finally, sliding a stack of papers toward her without ceremony. "One year. No emotions. No expectations."
Lia's throat was dry. She glanced at the top of the document where her name was already printed beneath his. "And at the end of the year?"
"We part ways." His voice was emotionless. "Clean break. No attachments."
She bit her bottom lip. "Why me? You don't even know me."
Damien leaned back in his chair, watching her with unnerving calm. "I don't need to know you. I need a wife. Temporary. Someone who won't fall in love and complicate things."
Lia flinched, her pride stung by the implication.
He continued, as if listing ingredients for a grocery run. "My board expects a stable image. I get married, the media cools off, investors relax. You get the money your family needs to survive. Mutual benefit."
Lia swallowed the lump in her throat. Her father's hospital bills were piling up. Her mother's boutique was months behind on rent. Her younger brother had dropped out of school to work double shifts.
This deal, no matter how humiliating, was their lifeline.
"And in public?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
Damien's eyes darkened slightly. "We act like a couple. Photos, events, interviews. I'll provide a wardrobe, driver, anything you need."
She hesitated. "And in private?"
His jaw clenched. "We stay out of each other's way. No expectations. No… intimacy."
A strange mix of relief and disappointment twisted in her chest.
"This isn't a romance novel, Miss Morgan," he added, coolly. "Let's not confuse roles."
Lia stared down at the contract. The final page stared back, blank and expectant, her signature the only thing missing.
She looked up. "And what if one of us breaks the rule?"
Damien arched a brow. "Then we both lose. You walk away with nothing. I lose face, credibility, maybe my company. It's not an option."
The pen in her hand trembled slightly as she signed her name.
Lia Morgan.
Her life as she knew it was over. Or maybe, just beginning
After she finished, Damien reached over and signed his name with cold precision.
"Welcome to the arrangement," he said, sliding the paper away. "The wedding's in two days. My assistant will handle the details."
She stood slowly, her legs heavier than before. "So that's it? I sell my name for a year and save my family?"
He stood too tall, imposing, untouchable. "You didn't sell your name, Miss Morgan. You leased it. And I intend to make every second of it count."
As she turned to leave, her heart thudded in her chest. It wasn't just fear.
It was something much worse.
Uncertainty.