Nadia Petrova sat at her glass desk, laptop open, contracts spread in neat piles. She adjusted her blazer and reread the draft proposal for the tenth time. Her finger tapped against the table, not from nerves but calculation. Numbers, projections, timelines—everything had to be airtight.
Verdant Power was weeks away from collapse. Payroll stretched her accounts to the limit. Suppliers were demanding payment. The Swiss investors, Reinhardt Capital, would only commit if they saw long-term stability. They valued tradition, not risk. And they were clear in their last meeting: they preferred CEOs who demonstrated not just business acumen but "a grounded personal life."
Nadia exhaled sharply. She had built her company on vision and relentless drive, not personal optics. But without the deal, Verdant was finished. Which was why she had typed the words she never imagined she would: proposed strategic marital partnership.
Her eyes flicked to the other name on the contract—Thomas Kingsley. CEO of Kingsley Hotels. Billionaire. Rival. Charming in a way she distrusted. He needed her technology, and she needed his public image. The marriage would last one year. No intimacy, no emotions, just a merger in the shape of matrimony.
She checked the time. Eleven-thirty. Their meeting was at noon.
---
Tom Kingsley leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his phone as his assistant reminded him of the meeting. "Ms. Petrova, boardroom two," the assistant said.
Tom smiled faintly. Nadia Petrova was not a woman he ever forgot. He had watched her dominate panels with sharp precision, watched her sidestep male rivals with brutal efficiency. And he had admired her from a distance, never once letting it show. She had no time for charm.
But today was different. Today she wanted something. He was curious to see how far she would go.
---
The boardroom door opened. Nadia entered first, posture straight, expression unreadable. Tom rose from his seat, extending his hand.
"Ms. Petrova," he said smoothly.
"Mr. Kingsley." Her handshake was brief. She sat, opened her laptop, and slid a folder across the table. "I'll be direct. This is a proposal that benefits us both."
Tom skimmed the first page, then stopped when he reached the bold line: Proposed Marriage Agreement, One Year Term. He glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting choice of words."
"It's practical," Nadia said flatly. "Reinhardt Capital will only finalize their investment if they see stability. They prefer traditional leadership. A married CEO. I cannot afford to waste time with appearances, so I am offering a contractual arrangement."
"And you chose me." His smile widened.
"You need Verdant Power's technology," Nadia continued. "Your hotels face pressure to reduce emissions. A partnership on paper is not enough. Public opinion will demand more. Our marriage satisfies both sides. One year. No obligations beyond public appearances and strategic cooperation."
Tom leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. "You've thought this through."
"I don't make impulsive decisions."
He studied her. Her tone was clipped, her expression icy, but he could see the flicker of tension in her jaw. She hated asking for help. He admired that.
"And what do I get," he asked lightly, "beyond saving my company's image?"
"Access to our patents, licensing at reduced cost, exclusive contracts for your chain. And the appearance of a stable alliance with Verdant Power."
Tom chuckled softly. "So, in short, I get the woman every CEO in London fears and respects, plus her tech, plus a marriage certificate. All for one year."
Nadia's lips tightened. "If you're not interested—"
"I'm very interested," Tom interrupted. He closed the folder. "I accept."
Her eyes flicked up sharply. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." He stood, offering his hand again. "Send me the contract. Let's make it official."
Nadia hesitated only a second before shaking it. His grip was firm, steady, but not possessive. She withdrew quickly, returning to her laptop. "The draft is ready. I'll have legal refine the details."
"Good." Tom's tone was calm, but his heart raced. For years he had imagined being close to her. Now she was offering him the one opportunity he could never manufacture himself.
---
Two days later, they sat across a mahogany table, lawyers on either side, as the final contract was read aloud.
"No emotional obligations. No physical expectations. Public appearances to be conducted jointly. Termination after twelve months unless mutually extended. Confidentiality clauses binding both parties."
Nadia signed first. Her signature was swift and precise. Tom followed, his handwriting looser, almost careless.
The lawyers gathered the papers, shook hands, and left. The room grew quiet.
"That's it," Nadia said, closing her pen. "We're married on paper. Ceremony is scheduled for Friday. It will be brief and public."
"Lovely," Tom replied, his voice calm. But his eyes lingered on her longer than necessary.
---
The wedding was held in a registry office. Simple, legal, efficient. No vows beyond the standard. No rings exchanged beyond the bare minimum. Cameras flashed as they left, hands clasped only for appearance.
That night, they entered the penthouse Tom had provided. Two bedrooms, two offices, one shared living space. Nadia unpacked quickly, placing her files neatly in the study. Tom poured two glasses of wine.
"To a successful merger," he said, raising his glass.
She clinked his lightly. "To survival."
They drank in silence.
---
Later, in his room, Tom watched her door across the hall. Nadia Petrova, his wife—at least for now. She thought this was just business.
But for him, it was the beginning.