"Marry me."
The words echoed in the hotel suite like the toll of a bell, heavy and commanding, yet spoken with an unnerving calmness.
Talia blinked at him, the spoon in her hand trembling slightly over the untouched bowl of soup. She was certain she had misheard. Surely, after everything that had happened—the shame, the humiliation, the suffocating press outside—this powerful stranger wasn't suggesting what she thought he was.
Her lips parted, and she found herself blurting, "No."
The answer came out sharper than she intended, slicing through the stillness of the room.
A faint curve tugged at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, but something close. He didn't look offended, only mildly amused, as if he'd expected her refusal. He leaned back into his chair, his black shirt stretching across broad shoulders that seemed sculpted for command.
"Don't be in such a hurry to say no." His voice was low, steady—velvet with a hint of steel.
"I can't," Talia stammered, shaking her head. "I can't marry a man I don't even know the name of. I—" She paused, swallowing the lump rising in her throat. "I shouldn't even be here. Last night… whatever happened, I'll take responsibility. I'll pay you back somehow. But marriage? No. That's not an option."
He tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her squirm. Then, with the barest of chuckles—so soft it seemed to vibrate in his chest—he repeated her words. "Pay me?"
Talia frowned. "Yes. I… I don't expect anything for free."
That earned a fuller smile from him, though it was the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Little girl," he said, his tone tinged with both condescension and fascination, "my family runs half this nation. I could buy ten hotels like this one before breakfast. You think I want your money?"
Her cheeks burned, and she looked away, embarrassed.
"Fine," she muttered. "Then I don't owe you anything. But I'm not marrying you."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "My name," he said slowly, deliberately, "is Alexander Blackwood."
The name hit her like a jolt. Of course she'd heard it before—everyone in the country had. Alexander Blackwood, heir to the Blackwood Conglomerate, a dynasty so vast that it controlled shipping, banking, real estate, and even parts of the entertainment industry she desperately wanted to break into. He wasn't just powerful; he was untouchable.
And last night… she had…
Talia bit her lip hard, forcing the thought away.
Alexander continued, unbothered by her wide-eyed stare. "My parents have been pressing me to settle down. They've arranged a fiancée—a business alliance I want no part of. I don't intend to be shackled by a woman chosen for me like some piece of corporate furniture."
His jaw tightened, and for the first time, Talia sensed real bitterness beneath the calm mask he wore.
"So," he said, "I need a bride. Not a real one. Just a name, a face, someone to stand at my side long enough to silence the rumors and keep my parents satisfied."
"A contract marriage," she whispered.
"Yes. Four months. After that, you walk away. No obligations, no entanglements." His eyes softened—just slightly. "And no one will ever touch you the way your sister tried to arrange last night. I'll make sure of that."
Talia's breath caught. He knew. Somehow, he knew about the drugs, the scheme, the trap her stepsister had set.
Her hands twisted in her lap. "Why me?" she asked softly. "Of all the women in the world, why me?"
Alexander's gaze lingered on her face for a beat too long. "Because," he said finally, "you walked into my life at the exact moment I needed you. Fate, perhaps. Or irony. Call it what you like."
She shook her head, struggling to keep her composure. "This is insane. I—I don't even know you. I don't know what kind of man you are. And marriage, even if it's fake… it's still marriage."
He leaned back, the faintest of smirks playing on his lips. "Think of it as a role. You're an aspiring actress, aren't you? Consider it your greatest performance."
Her heart lurched.
Alexander watched her carefully. "I'll give you time. Think about it. Decide carefully. If you accept, you'll have my protection. If not—" He spread his hands, casual. "Then we part ways here."
He slid a sleek black business card across the table toward her. His name was embossed in silver, along with a direct line of contact.
Talia stared at it as if it were a ticking bomb.
"I'll pay you, if you agree," he added calmly.
That made her lift her head, bristling. "I don't want your money."
"Everyone wants my money," Alexander said, matter-of-fact. "But think of it however you like. Payment. Compensation. A gift. It doesn't matter."
Her chest tightened. She wanted to scream, to cry, to reject him outright—but another voice whispered inside her: You need protection. You can't keep surviving like this. Not with your sister out there. Not with Ethan…
Alexander eyes held hers steadily. "Think carefully, Talia Hayes. Call me when you're ready."
---
She left the hotel in a daze, wrapped in the new clothes the maids had brought, clutching his card like a lifeline she didn't want. She hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of her one-room apartment, her mind spinning.
By the time she stumbled through the door, her chest felt tight with everything she'd been holding in. She dropped onto her bed and buried her face in her hands.
Her phone buzzed. Without thinking, she called the one person she trusted.
"Lila," she whispered when her best friend answered. Her voice cracked, and the tears she'd been holding back finally spilled over.
Within an hour, Lila was pounding on her door, her usual dramatic energy filling the tiny apartment. "Talia Hayes, if you don't start talking right now, I'm going to drag it out of you by force."
Talia gave a shaky laugh, then broke into sobs. "It's… it's a mess, Lila. Everything's a mess."
Bit by bit, she poured it all out—the drugged drink, stumbling into Adrian's room, the shame of waking up to find her virginity gone, the reporters, her stepsister's trap, Ethan's disgusted stare. And then, finally, Alexander Blackwood's impossible proposal.
Lila listened with wide eyes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. When Talia finally stopped, breathless, Lila threw herself back dramatically against the couch. "Girl. You are living in a K-drama. Like—the forbidden love, evil stepsister, hot CEO kind of K-drama."
"Lila, this isn't funny!" Talia cried, hugging a pillow to her chest.
Her best friend sobered quickly and leaned forward. "Okay, okay. Jokes aside… wow. So he really asked you to marry him?"
"Yes," Talia whispered. "Four months. Just a contract. He said he'd protect me."
"And you said no?"
"Of course I did!"
Lila tilted her head. "But you're considering it."
Talia froze.
Her best friend's gaze softened. "I know you, Tal. You hate asking for help. You'd rather bleed out than show weakness. But right now? You're scared. You need someone strong on your side. And let's be honest—Alexander Blackwood? That man's basically a walking fortress."
Talia hugged the pillow tighter, torn. "But marriage, Lila. Even if it's fake… what if it ruins my chance at acting? What if it ruins everything?"
"What if it saves you?" Lila countered gently. "What if this is the only way to stop your stepsister from destroying you?"
Talia's heart squeezed. She thought of Ethan's eyes, cold and disgusted, of her sister's smug smile, of the paparazzi's flashing cameras. She thought of Alexander's calm voice, promising protection.
Her mind screamed no, but a tiny, dangerous part of her whispered yes.
She buried her face in the pillow, muffling her voice. "I don't know what to do, Lila."
Her best friend stroked her hair. "Then don't decide yet. Think. Feel it out. But whatever you do, Tal—don't let anyone force you into it. Not your sister, not Ethan, not even the great Alexander Blackwood."
Talia nodded, tears wetting the pillow.
But deep down, she knew her life had already shifted. The choice wasn't whether to step into Alexander's world. It was whether she could survive without it.