Ethan Caldwell leaned back in his leather chair, the city skyline sprawling beyond his office's floor-to-ceiling windows. The lights of downtown glittered like a promise, but tonight, they felt like a taunt. Caldwell Enterprises, the empire he'd built from his father's ashes, was slipping through his fingers. The board's whispers of a hostile takeover grew louder, fueled by his own mistakes—a playboy reputation that had once been a shield but was now a noose. He needed control, and he needed it yesterday.
His phone buzzed on the glass desk, Vanessa's name flashing. "It's done," her text read. "She has the contract."
Ethan's jaw tightened. Lila Harper. The bakery girl with fire in her eyes and flour on her apron. He hadn't meant to step into her crumbling shop earlier, hadn't meant to test her with his curt words. But the way she'd snapped back, unflinching despite the desperation etched into her face, had caught him off guard. She wasn't like the polished socialites who flocked to him, all calculated smiles and hidden agendas. Lila was… real. And that made her dangerous.
He swirled the whiskey in his glass, the amber liquid catching the light. Dangerous or not, she was his solution. A fake wife to parade at galas, charm investors, and silence the board's doubts about his stability. Six months, clean and simple. No emotions, no complications. Just a transaction.
His mind drifted to the bakery, to the moment their fingers brushed over that cheap coffee cup. A jolt had run through him, sharp and unwelcome, stirring something he'd buried years ago. He shoved the memory aside. Sentiment was a luxury he couldn't afford, not after Victoria's betrayal had nearly cost him everything.
The office door swung open, and Vanessa strode in, her tablet glowing with efficiency. "She's hesitant," she said, setting the tablet on his desk. "But she didn't say no. The debts are too much for her to walk away."
Ethan's lips curved, not quite a smile. "Good. Did you make it clear what's at stake?"
Vanessa nodded, her blonde bob barely shifting. "Fifty thousand. Bakery, medical bills, the works. She's proud, though. Might push back on the terms."
He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "Let her push. She'll sign. People always do it when they're desperate."
Vanessa raised an eyebrow, a rare crack in her professionalism. "Are you sure about her? She's not exactly… polished."
"Polished is overrated," Ethan said, his voice low. "The board needs to be authentic. Someone who looks like she cares about more than my bank account. Lila Harper's perfect for the part."
He didn't add that her defiance intrigued him, that the way she'd held his gaze—half challenge, half exhaustion—had lingered in his mind like a stubborn melody. He'd chosen her on instinct, a gut call after months of calculated moves. That alone should've worried him.
Vanessa tapped her tablet, pulling up a photo of Lila from the bakery's outdated website. Dark curls spilling from a messy bun, hazel eyes bright with determination, a smudge of flour on her cheek. She looked like she belonged in a world of warmth and laughter, not his sterile empire of glass and steel. Ethan's chest tightened, and he looked away.
"What's the board's mood?" he asked, redirecting his focus.
"Restless," Vanessa said. "Langston's stirring the pot. She's got half the investors convinced you're too reckless to lead. That stunt with the yacht last month didn't help."
Ethan's grip on the glass tightened. Victoria Langston, his ex-fiancée, had a knack for turning his mistakes into weapons. The yacht party—splashed across tabloids as "Caldwell's Wild Night"—had been a setup, her way of undermining him while she cozied up to his rivals. Now she was circling, her family's company poised to swallow his in a takeover bid. He wouldn't let her win. Not again.
"Set up a meeting with Lila," he said. "Tomorrow, here. I want to see how she handles pressure."
Vanessa hesitated. "She's not like the others, Ethan. She's… stubborn. If you push too hard, she might bolt."
"Then I'll push just hard enough," he said, a hint of a challenge in his tone. "She's not walking away from fifty grand. Nobody would."
Vanessa gave him a look that said she wasn't so sure but nodded and left, her heels clicking into silence. Ethan stood, pacing to the window. The city stretched below, a chessboard where he'd always been three moves ahead. But this game felt different. Lila Harper wasn't a pawn he could maneuver—not easily, at least.
His phone buzzed again, this time with an email from an anonymous sender. The subject line read: *"You can't hide forever."* His pulse quickened as he opened it, finding a single line: *"The truth about your father is closer than you think."* No signature, no clue. Just a ghost from his past, stirring the ashes of a wound he'd never fully closed.
Ethan's father had died five years ago, officially of a heart attack, but the rumors—whispers of foul play, of secrets buried in Caldwell Enterprises' rise—had never stopped. Victoria had been there, a shadow in his grief, promising love while plotting her own ascent. Was this her doing? Another move to destabilize him?
He deleted the email, his jaw set. He didn't have time for ghosts. The board meeting in two weeks would decide his fate, and Lila Harper was his key to keeping control. He needed her to play the part, to stand by his side and sell the lie of a perfect marriage. But as he pictured her—those defiant eyes, that spark of fight—he wondered if he'd underestimated the cost of this deal. Not to her, but to him.
The next morning, Ethan arrived at his office early, the space pristine and cold, like his mood. He'd barely slept, the anonymous email gnawing at him. Vanessa had texted that Lila agreed to meet at 10 a.m., and he'd spent the hour preparing, reviewing the contract's terms. No room for error. He needed her signature, her commitment, her… compliance.
The intercom buzzed. "Miss Harper is here," Vanessa's voice crackled.
"Send her in," Ethan said, straightening his tie. He stood behind his desk, the city at his back, projecting the control he'd mastered over years of boardroom battles.
The door opened, and Lila stepped inside, her presence a stark contrast to the sleek office. She wore a simple navy dress, probably borrowed or thrifted, but it hugged her curves in a way that made Ethan's throat dry. Her curls were tamed into a loose braid, and her hazel eyes scanned the room, wary but unyielding. She clutched the contract folder like a shield.
"Miss Harper," he said, his voice smooth but edged with authority. "Sit."
She didn't move, her chin lifting slightly. "I'm here to talk, not take orders."
Ethan's lips twitched, amusement warring with irritation. "Fair enough. Let's talk, then. You've read the contract?"
Lila set the folder on his desk, her movements deliberate. "I read it. Fifty thousand to play your wife for six months. Public appearances, fake smiles, no questions asked. Did I miss anything?"
Her tone was sharp, but there was a tremor beneath it, a hint of the weight she carried. Ethan leaned forward, studying her. "You missed the part where you get to keep your bakery. Your home. Your sister's future. All it takes is your signature."
Her eyes narrowed. "And my freedom. You're buying me, Mr. Caldwell. Let's not pretend it's anything else."
The accusation stung, but he didn't flinch. "I'm offering a solution. You need money. I need… stability. It's a business deal, nothing more."
Lila crossed her arms, her gaze piercing. "Why me? You could have anyone. Models, heiresses, women who know your world. Why a baker with nothing to her name?"
Because you're different, he almost said, the thought catching him off guard. Instead, he leaned back, his voice cool. "You're believable. The board needs to see a man who's settled, not chasing headlines. You're the girl next door, Lila. People trust you. That's worth more than you think."
She laughed, a short, bitter sound. "Trust? You don't even know me. And after last night, I'm not sure I trust you."
He remembered the coffee, the way he'd tested her, pushing to see if she'd break. She hadn't. "Then let's set terms," he said, sliding a pen across the desk. "What do you want, Lila? Name your price."
Her eyes flickered to the pen, then back to him. For a moment, vulnerability flashed in her expression—fear, maybe, or hope. "I want the bakery's deed, free and clear. No strings. And Clara's college fund, separate from the fifty grand. You want me to sell my life for six months? That's my cost."
Ethan's respect for her grew, unbidden. She wasn't just desperate; she was strategic. "Done," he said, without hesitation. "Anything else?"
Lila hesitated, her fingers tightening on the folder. "No personal stuff. I play your wife in public, but my life—my family, my heart—that's off-limits. You don't get to own that."
Her words hit harder than he expected, stirring a memory of Victoria's cold smile, her promises of love that had been nothing but lies. He pushed it down. "Agreed. It's a role, nothing more."
She nodded, but her eyes held a challenge. "Then let's make it official. Where do I sign?"
Ethan opened the contract, pointing to the signature line. His pulse quickened as she reached for the pen, her hand steady but her breath uneven. This was it—the deal that could save his company, his legacy. But as she leaned over the desk, her braid slipping over her shoulder, a scent of vanilla and sugar hit him, soft and disarming. His carefully built walls wavered, just for a second.
Before her pen touched the paper, the intercom buzzed again. Vanessa's voice was urgent. "Ethan, we have a problem. The board's calling an emergency meeting. Langston's pushing for a vote tonight."
Ethan's blood ran cold. Victoria. She was moving faster than he'd anticipated. He met Lila's gaze, her pen still poised over the contract, her eyes wide with questions she wasn't allowed to ask.
"Sign it," he said, his voice low, almost a plea. "Or we both lose everything."