Weeks went by quickly, and before I knew it, a whole month had passed since I became Adrian Blackwood's nanny.
That morning, Adrian's mother came to visit. She sat was in the living room, playing with her grandchild.
Adrian poured her a drink, bracing himself. He already knew what was coming.
"Adrian," his mother said sweetly, "your daughter is growing up without a proper family. She needs a real mother, not that Egg donor that birthed her. And frankly, you need a wife. Do you plan on raising her alone forever?"
His jaw tightened. "She has me."
"She needs more than that." Mrs. Blackwood's tone sharpened. "I won't watch Sophie grow up with a string of nannies. Either you marry someone suitable, soon, or I'll have no choice but to reconsider your inheritance."
The words hit like a bomb. "Mother…"
But before he could argue further, the front door opened.
Isabella stepped in, her hair loose around her shoulders, carrying Sophie's backpack. She froze when she realized both Adrian and his mother were watching her.
"Isabella," Sophie squealed, racing across the room. "You're back!" She jumped into her arms.
And in that single second, Adrian made a decision. A reckless one.
He crossed the room in two strides, cupped Isabella's face, and kissed her. Hard.
Her eyes flew wide. The glass in her hand nearly slipped. His lips were warm, commanding, claiming something she hadn't agreed to give. Sophie giggled in delight.
"Daddy!" Sophie clapped her little hands. "You're kissing the pretty lady!"
Mrs. Blackwood's brows arched, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.
Adrian pulled back slowly, his arm still firm around Isabella's waist, his lips brushing her temple as he murmured, "Mother, meet Isabella Hart. The woman I'm going to marry."
The room went silent.
Sophie squealed louder. Mrs. Blackwood's smile bloomed like victory. Isabella, meanwhile, stood frozen in shock, pulse thundering in her ears.
That night, after Mrs. Blackwood finally left and Sophie was tucked in bed, Isabella stormed into Adrian's study.
"You," she hissed, slamming the door behind her, "have some nerve."
Adrian leaned back in his leather chair, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking maddeningly calm. "I saved us both a very awkward conversation."
"You kissed me!" she snapped. "In front of your mother and your daughter. And then you announced we're getting married? Are you insane?"
His lips curved into something between a smirk and a dare. "You're going to marry me."
Her chest rose and fell. "I am not marrying you. I'm your nanny, not your…"
"Wife?" he cut in smoothly, standing. He circled the desk, moving closer, his presence wrapping around her like a dark tide. "What if I told you it wouldn't be real?"
She blinked. "What?"
"A contract marriage." His voice dropped lower, silky and dangerous. "Six months. Enough to keep my mother satisfied and keep the company board from taking my inheritance. You'll live here, play the part, and when the time comes, we'll walk away. Clean."
Her lips parted. "You're asking me to fake marry you?"
"I'm offering you security," he corrected. "For you and for Sophie. And let's not pretend, Isabella, you already care about her. This way, she gets the illusion of a family. You get financial stability. I get my mother off my back."
She let out a shaky laugh, rubbing her temple. "You're actually unbelievable."
Her heart pounded. Because deep down, the part that terrified her most wasn't the kiss he'd stolen earlier.
The next morning, Isabella was still reeling from the night before. She barely slept, tossing and turning, hearing Adrian's words on repeat. A contract marriage. Six months. Clean.
She had just dropped Sophie off at school with the chauffeur when a knock sounded at her bedroom door.
She pulled it open, heart skipping when she saw him standing there. Adrian Blackwood. In his hand, a sleek black folder.
"Good morning," he said evenly.
She crossed her arms. "If this is about last night…"
"It is," he cut in, stepping past her without invitation. He placed the folder neatly on her table, then turned to face her. "Read it."
Isabella frowned, glancing at the folder. "What is this?"
"A contract."
Her stomach dropped. "You actually wrote it out?"
"I don't make empty promises," Adrian replied smoothly. "Six months. You'll be my wife on paper and in public. In return, you'll receive two hundred million dollars."
Her eyes snapped up. "Two…two hundred million?"
He nodded once, as if discussing pocket change. "Half now. Half when the contract ends."
She laughed nervously, shaking her head. "You're insane. That's… that's more money than I've ever seen in my life."
"Exactly." His tone sharpened. "You'll never have to worry about your mother's hospital bills again. You'll never have to wonder if Sophie is taken care of. Two hundred million ensures your future."
Her throat went dry. She reached for the folder with trembling hands, flipping it open. Legal jargon. Clauses. Dates. And his signature already scrawled at the bottom.
Her voice cracked. "You actually signed it."
"I told you, Isabella. I don't waste time."
She skimmed, Her eyes caught a clause. "I'm not allowed to date anyone else? For six months?"
"Correct." His tone left no room for debate. "You'll be my wife, Isabella. The public will see you on my arm. Any… indiscretions would destroy the illusion. And I won't tolerate it."
Her chest rose and fell. "You don't get to control my personal life!"
"For two hundred million, I do," he snapped. "Don't act shocked. You know what this is. An arrangement. A transaction."
She swallowed hard. "So what exactly do you expect of me?"
He stepped closer. "You'll live here. Share my name. Accompany me to every social function, every charity gala, every business event. And yes, social media too. Appearances matter. You'll smile. You'll play the perfect wife. You'll give my mother and Sophie the family they're desperate for."
"And in private?" she whispered.
His gaze softened. "In private, you're still you. Sophie's nanny. A woman with her own choices. But with me? You're Mrs. Blackwood."
Isabella gripped the contract tighter. "This is crazy. You're asking me to give up six months of my life for money."
"I'm offering you freedom," he countered. "Two hundred million buys more than security. It buys choices you've never had before."
She looked up at him. "And what if I say no?"
Adrian's lips curved faintly, a dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Then you'll pack your bags. Today. Because after last night, Isabella, there's no going back to you being just the nanny."
Her fingers trembled against the folder.
Her voice cracked. "This is blackmail."
"This is business," Adrian corrected coldly. "Sign it, Isabella. Or walk away."
Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. "You can't just…just throw money at me like I'm for sale."
Adrian's eyes narrowed. "Don't fool yourself. Everyone has a price. I'm simply the first man to offer you exactly what you need."
The silence between them was thick, charged, dangerous.
Then she shoved the folder back at him. "Give me a pen."
His lips curved in satisfaction as he slid a sleek fountain pen from his jacket pocket and placed it in her hand.
"Welcome to the family, Mrs. Blackwood."