Alexander Blackwood walked out of the café with his shirt stained, the faint smell of coffee clinging to him. But that wasn't what bothered him.
The suit could be cleaned, the shirt replaced. What burned in his chest was not the mess—it was her.
That girl.
Emma Johnson.
The way she looked him straight in the eye, unafraid. The way she spoke to him, not with the false sweetness he was used to, but with irritation, even sarcasm. No one spoke to Alexander Blackwood like that. Not employees. Not business partners. Not even rivals.
And yet she had.
He sat in the back of his sleek black car, his jaw tight, his mind restless.
"Home," he told his driver.
The gates of his mansion opened silently when he arrived. A place of glass, steel, and stone, sharp edges gleaming in the night lights. Inside, the air smelled faintly of leather and expensive whiskey. His world was neat, controlled, cold.
But he was not calm. He loosened his tie and poured himself a drink. The amber liquid swirled in his glass, but his mind stayed on the café girl with the fire in her eyes.
He pulled out his phone and dialed.
"Mr. Blackwood," his assistant's voice came quickly, polite and efficient.
"I want a full background check," Alexander said flatly. "Her name is Emma Johnson, She works at a café downtown. I want everything her family, her debts, her history. Don't leave out a single detail."
There was a pause. "Understood, sir."
He ended the call, his gaze fixed on the city skyline. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. Maybe proof that his instinct was right that there was more to this girl than stubborn words and clumsy hands.
Hours later, his phone buzzed. The file had arrived.
Alexander sank into his leather chair and opened the folder.
Emma Johnson. Age: twenty three. Lives in a small three bedroom apartment. Guardian of her younger siblings—twins, Ethan and Ella, both sixteen. Father: recovering from illness, unable to work. Mother: deceased.
He skimmed the details quickly, but then slowed as the weight of the information grew heavier.
Medical bills. Debt collectors. Overdue rent. She was working two jobs just to keep her family afloat.
She was drowning.
Alexander leaned back, his fingers tapping against the armrest. So that was why her eyes held that tired fire. That was why she looked at him like he was the enemy because for her, men like him were the enemy. Wealthy. Untouchable. Free of the chains she carried every single day.
A slow, calculating thought formed in his mind.
She needed money. He needed an image.
And maybe, just maybe, this was the solution to his problem.
———
The last thing Emma expected that week was to be called into the manager's office.
She had just finished wiping down tables at the café when Carol, her boss, appeared in the doorway, wringing her hands nervously. "Emma," she said, her voice low, "Mr. Blackwood wants to see you."
Emma froze. "What? Why?"
Carol glanced toward the corner, where Alexander Blackwood sat once again. His phone was on the table, his suit spotless this time, his expression calm but unreadable. He looked like he owned the entire place—and in some ways, Emma thought bitterly, maybe he did.
"I don't know," Carol whispered. "But he asked for you. Personally."
Emma's stomach twisted. She wanted to refuse, to walk out the door and never deal with him again. But she couldn't risk her job. Not with Ethan, Ella, and her father depending on her.
So she forced herself to walk over, every step heavy.
When she reached his table, she crossed her arms. "What do you want?" she asked, keeping her voice as steady as she could.
For the first time, Alexander looked amused. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, though his eyes stayed sharp. "Sit down."
"I'm working."
"Then consider this part of your work." His tone left no room for argument.
Emma sighed and slid into the chair opposite him. Her heart thudded against her ribs, but she kept her chin high.
Alexander leaned back, studying her like a businessman weighing an offer. "I've been thinking about you."
Emma blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're not like the others." His gaze swept over her, not in a way that made her feel small, but in a way that made her feel… exposed. "You speak your mind. You're not impressed by money. That makes you… useful."
Emma frowned. "Useful? I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted."
He ignored her jab. "I have a problem. And I believe you're the solution."
Emma wanted to laugh. "Me? I think you've got the wrong person. I can barely afford bus fare. What could I possibly do for you?"
Alexander steepled his fingers. "My company is finalizing a merger with an international firm. The board and the investors expect stability. They expect me to settle down. A family man, not a bachelor with a reputation."
Emma tilted her head. "And that's where I come in?"
"That's where you come in," he confirmed smoothly. "I need a fiancée. Someone believable, someone ordinary enough to look real. Not another socialite or model. You."
For a moment, Emma was sure she had misheard him. She stared, stunned. "You want me to pretend to be your fiancée?"
"Yes."
She let out a sharp laugh. "You're insane. I don't even like you."
"You don't have to like me," Alexander said calmly. "You only have to look like you do. For six months. After the deal is finalized, we'll part ways. Clean and simple."
Emma pushed back her chair. "Absolutely not."
But before she could stand, his voice stopped her. "In exchange, I'll pay off all your debts. Every last medical bill, every late fee, every cent hanging over your head. You and your family will be free."
Emma froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
How did he know?
She swallowed hard. "You don't know anything about me."
A faint smile touched his lips. "I know enough. You're drowning in debt. You're working yourself into the ground. You're one accident away from losing everything. Am I wrong?"
Emma's chest tightened. He wasn't wrong. He had seen straight through her, and she hated it.
Her mind flashed to her father's pale face, the sound of his oxygen machine, the pile of unopened envelopes on the kitchen counter. Then to Ethan and Ella, still so young, depending on her for everything.
She shook her head. "Even if what you're saying is true, I can't just… sell myself to you."
Alexander's voice dropped, smooth and confident. "It's not selling yourself. It's a contract. An agreement. You pretend to be mine in public. I take care of the rest."
Emma's hands curled into fists. "And what do you get out of it?"
"The appearance of stability. The board is old-fashioned. They trust men with wives and families more than men with money and ambition. If I show them I'm engaged, their doubts disappear. The merger goes through."
Emma stared at him, her pulse racing. The offer was outrageous. Unbelievable. Dangerous.
And yet… the temptation gnawed at her. Six months of pretending. Six months of swallowing her pride. In return, her family's nightmare would end.
She thought of Ethan, struggling with his math homework the night before. Of Ella, who wanted to join the school's art club but couldn't because the supplies were too expensive. Of her father, apologizing every morning for being a burden.
Her throat tightened.
Alexander watched her carefully, like a hunter waiting for his prey to move. "You want to say yes," he said quietly. "I can see it."
Emma snapped her head up. "You don't know what I want."
"No," he agreed softly. "But I know what you need."
The silence stretched between them, heavy and sharp.
Emma finally pushed back her chair and stood. "I need time to think."
Alexander's eyes glinted. "You don't have much. The merger vote is in two weeks. If you're going to agree, I need your answer soon."
Emma swallowed hard, her heart pounding. "I'll think about it. But don't count on me saying yes."
She walked away quickly, her hands shaking, her mind a storm of fear and temptation.
⸻
That night, the weight of the offer pressed on her like a stone.
The twins were at the table, arguing over homework. Her father sat in the armchair, trying to hide how tired he was. The apartment felt smaller than ever, the air heavy with worry.
Emma sat silently, staring at the stack of bills in her hand.
Six months, she thought. Just six months. And all of this could go away.
But another voice whispered in her head: What will it cost you?
She looked at Ethan and Ella, laughing despite their bickering. She looked at her father, who smiled at her with quiet pride.
Emma closed her eyes.
She had no idea what to do.
But one thing was certain: Alexander Blackwood wasn't going to disappear from her life.
And deep down, she knew whether she said yes or no her world would never be the same again.