The silence inside the sleek black car was suffocating, stretching so long that every passing second scraped at Amelia's nerves. The soft hum of the engine was the only sound, but even that seemed too loud in the heavy air between them.
She sat rigidly in the leather seat, her nails digging crescents into the strap of her worn bag. She didn't dare look at Adrian Kane, not when the weight of his presence already pressed against her skin like a physical force.
A deal.
That single word clanged inside her head like a death sentence.
Her lips pressed into a thin line before she finally forced herself to speak, her voice sharp and defensive.
"If you think I'm some kind of… charity case, then save your breath. I don't need your pity."
Adrian turned his head slowly, and when his gaze landed on her, it was like being pinned beneath a hawk's unblinking stare. His expression didn't shift, not even a twitch of annoyance or amusement but his eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to cut through her thin shield of bravado.
"You're not a charity case, Miss Hart." His voice was low, smooth, and carried the kind of authority that made people listen whether they wanted to or not. "You're an asset. I don't do pity."
Her throat worked as she swallowed, her pulse drumming in her ears. "Then what do you want?"
Finally, Adrian leaned forward, resting his powerful forearms on his knees, closing the already-small distance between them. His cologne clean, expensive, intimidating, wrapped around her, making it hard to think.
"In three weeks," he said slowly, deliberately, "I have a negotiation with one of my largest international investors. Old man. Traditional. He believes stability in a man's personal life reflects stability in his business. To him, an unmarried bachelor is reckless. He wants to partner with a man who is… settled."
Amelia frowned, trying to follow, her suspicion mounting with every syllable. "So? What does that have to do with me?"
Adrian's lips curved into the faintest smirk, one that wasn't remotely kind. "You, Amelia Hart, are going to be my fiancée."
The words struck like a physical blow. Her entire body went cold, her hands numb against the leather seat. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." His tone was calm, casual, as though he were asking her to pass the salt at dinner. "You'll pretend to be engaged to me until the deal is sealed. After that, we part ways. You get what you need, I get what I need. Simple."
Her mouth opened, then snapped shut again. For a moment she could only stare at him, searching for some glimmer of mockery, some sign this was a cruel joke. But Adrian Kane didn't joke. His eyes sharp, unreadable, held no hint of playfulness.
"You're insane," she finally burst out. Her voice cracked under the strain of disbelief. "You don't even know me! Why me, of all people? You could hire an actress, or find some model, or..."
"Because you," he cut in smoothly, voice silk over steel, "are unexpected. Real. No one would suspect you're lying. Investors will believe you're genuine because you are ordinary. An actress would look rehearsed. A model would look bought. But a broke college student?" His eyes glinted, merciless. "That looks authentic."
The words stung, each one driving deeper than she wanted to admit. Ordinary. Broke. Convenient.
"So I'm just… convenient?" she whispered bitterly.
He didn't deny it. He didn't even blink.
Her pride surged, hot and furious, swallowing the desperation clawing at her chest. "Forget it. I'd rather work ten jobs than sell myself to be your fake fiancée."
Adrian leaned back, utterly unbothered, as though her outburst was nothing more than background noise. He studied her the way a predator studies prey, patient, calculating, already certain of the outcome.
"And how many jobs would it take," he asked softly, "to pay off two hundred and seventy thousand dollars in medical bills?"
Her breath caught, her stomach lurching. She whipped her head toward him, eyes wide. "How....."
"I told you." His tone was almost bored, though his words were sharp enough to flay her open. "I make it my business to know things."
Her vision blurred as her mother's fragile face flickered in her mind sunken cheeks, trembling hands, the IV line taped to her thin arm. The nurse's clipped voice: Suspend treatment until further payments are made. The endless string of numbers on the bill, like a wall she could never climb.
"Your mother's condition isn't improving without treatment," Adrian continued, his voice smooth and cruel in its truth. "You can't afford it. You know it. I know it."
Her throat tightened painfully. She pressed a hand to her chest, as though that could steady the wild pounding of her heart.
"You can fight me out of pride, Amelia," he said, almost gently now, "or you can accept the reality in front of you. I'm offering you a solution. Three months of pretending, and I'll cover every cent of your mother's bills."
The car seemed to shrink around her, the walls closing in, the air thick and unbreathable. She wanted to scream at him, to claw at his smug composure, to slam the door and run far, far away. But she saw her mother's smile in her mind's eye, fragile and brave despite the suffering.
And Adrian Kane was right.
Her silence stretched until it was unbearable. Adrian watched her with unflinching patience, as though he were simply waiting for her inevitable collapse.
Finally, her voice came out a broken whisper. "And if I say no?"
Adrian tilted his head slightly, his gaze darkening like a storm rolling in. "Then your mother loses her treatment. And you go back to struggling in silence until you drown. It's your choice."
Her hands trembled in her lap. She hated him, hated his arrogance, his manipulation, his ability to strip her down to her weakest point with nothing more than cold facts. She hated the smirk tugging at his lips, the certainty in his tone, the way he already spoke like he owned her.
But most of all, she hated that he was right.
Tears pricked at her eyes. She squeezed them shut, forcing the weakness back down.
"Three months?" she asked, her voice raw.
"Three months," he confirmed.
"And then we're done?"
His lips curved into a small, victorious smile. "Completely."
Her glare was full of venom, but her voice cracked as she forced out the words. "Fine. I'll do it."
For the first time, Adrian leaned back with visible satisfaction, like a king settling into his throne after winning a war he'd known he couldn't lose.
"Good," he said smoothly. "You start tomorrow. I'll have my assistant send you the contract. Don't be late."
The car slowed, then rolled to a stop in front of her dorm building. Amelia's fingers shook as she grabbed the door handle, desperate for fresh air, for space, for anything that wasn't him.
But just as she pushed the door open, his voice stopped her cold.
"One more thing, Miss Hart."
She froze, her heart stumbling painfully.
Adrian's gaze pinned her, his words deliberate, low enough to vibrate through her bones. "When you agree to be mine, even if it's just pretend,you belong to me until this is over. Remember that."
The words wrapped around her like a chain, tightening, branding themselves into her skin.
The door clicked shut behind her, but his voice followed her like a curse, echoing in her ears as she stumbled onto the sidewalk.
And Amelia knew, with a sick twist in her stomach, that she had just made a deal with the devil.