Love was never part of my plan.
It sounded pretty in books, messy in real life.
My grandmother used to say love makes you softer.
And softness makes you foolish.
Maybe that's why she made sure I'd never need it.
When she passed away, she left me everything she built.
Our company, her estate.
But there was a catch.
Her lawyer read it out like a bad joke:
'To inherit, Alexandra Reign Sy must be legally married within six months.'
I laughed when I first heard it.
Marriage?
I could barely commit to a Netflix series.
That was three months ago.
Now I had three left, and my options were slimmer than my patience.
Tonight was supposed to be a break from thinking.
Luca's condo was our usual hangout.
Dim lights, loud music.
And too much alcohol.
Seven of us in total, a weird mix of personalities that somehow worked.
Luca was shaking cocktails behind his mini bar like his life depended on it.
Tessa and Bianca were arguing about whether men matured after twenty-five, while Dane and Rafe debated something about stocks.
Then there was Callisto Maxim.
Sitting in the corner like a perfectly tailored statue.
Callisto didn't belong to groups like ours.
He was too quiet, too collected, too calculated.
But he was Luca's friend from college, which automatically made him part of ours.
We were never close.
Barely even friends.
We talked maybe twice in a year, always short and professional.
Still, every time he was in the same room, he had this annoying ability to draw attention without saying much.
The air around him always felt too still.
"Alex, stop glaring at your drink," Luca said, sliding me a glass of something pink and suspicious.
"You look like you're trying to kill it."
"Maybe I am," I muttered, taking a sip.
Sweet, then bitter.
Tessa grinned. "You work too much, girl. You need a man."
I nearly choked on my drink.
"I need sleep, not a liability."
Bianca laughed. "You sound like my mom."
"I sound like someone with common sense," I said.
Even Callisto's lips curved slightly, like he found that amusing.
His rare smile was almost worse than his silence. It made people want to stare.
"Come on," Luca teased. "You can't seriously believe you'll stay single forever."
"Forever sounds peaceful," I said, leaning back. "And quiet."
Rafe groaned. "You and Callisto should start a club. 'Emotionally unavailable overachievers anonymous.'"
"That's too long for a signboard," Callisto said dryly, and everyone laughed.
It was small, but I caught the way his eyes flicked toward me after.
Just a second.
Like he was curious if I'd respond.
"I'd rather be emotionally unavailable than emotionally damaged," I said.
"It saves time."
Luca whistled. "Cold."
"Efficient," I corrected.
The conversation drifted after that, light and ridiculous, filled with laughter.
For a while, I forgot about my ridiculous marriage deadline.
But the night got quieter as people left one by one.
Tessa dragged Bianca out first, still gossiping.
Dane helped Rafe into his car after too many shots, and Luca disappeared to answer a business call.
And just like that, it was me and Callisto. Alone.
He was still nursing the same glass of scotch.
I was scrolling through my phone, pretending not to notice the silence.
"You're not leaving yet?" he asked.
"Traffic," I said. "I'll give it a bit."
He nodded, eyes on his drink. "You seemed distracted tonight."
"You always this observant?" I asked.
"Occupational hazard."
"CEO habit?"
"Human habit."
I smirked. "Didn't think you were human half the time."
His brow lifted. "Flattering."
I laughed softly. "You don't talk much, do you?"
"Only when I have something worth saying."
"Must be a lonely life."
He gave a faint smile.
"Better than wasting words."
Something about how calm he sounded made me want to push him.
"You believe in marriage, Callisto?"
He looked up, sharp eyes steady on me. "Depends on the reason."
"Romantic?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Practical."
That surprised me. "You think marriage can be practical?"
"Sure. A partnership. A merger. Two people with mutual benefits."
I laughed. "That's the least romantic thing I've ever heard."
"You're the one who brought up logic," he said.
Silence again.
The city lights outside glowed through the windows, painting him in gold.
And maybe it was the drink, maybe it was the stress of everything piling up, but suddenly the solution hit me like a bad idea that made too much sense.
"Then maybe we should get married," I said.
His eyes lifted slowly, unreadable. "What?"
"You heard me," I said, crossing my legs, acting calm while my heart thudded stupidly.
"You need it. I need it. No feelings, no drama. Just, business."
He didn't speak.
Just watched me, eyes searching, like he was trying to see if I was serious.
"You're joking," he said finally.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" I asked.
He set his glass down.
"You know my father's ridiculous conditions?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Married by the end of the year or the board takes over. It's been in the news."
His jaw flexed, barely.
"And your inheritance?"
I sighed. "Six months or everything goes to charity."
For a second, neither of us said anything.
Then his voice dropped, quieter. "So you're serious."
"Dead serious," I said.
"Think about it. Two signatures, one ceremony, a few photos. Everyone wins."
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "You realize what you're suggesting."
"A mutually beneficial contract," I said. "You're a businessman. You get it."
His gaze didn't waver.
"And what happens after we both get what we want?"
"We end it," I said simply.
"Cleanly. No mess, no heartbreak, no tabloids."
He gave a quiet laugh, almost to himself. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple," I said. "If we don't make it complicated."
He studied me for a long moment, then asked, "Why me?"
"Because you're the least likely person I'd ever fall for," I said.
"Plus, you're as desperate as I am, and that's exactly what I need."
That got another low laugh out of him, rough and short. "You're brutally honest."
"I'm efficient, remember?"
He nodded once, and the air shifted again.
He didn't look away, didn't blink, didn't smile.
Just that calm, assessing stare that felt too intimate for someone I barely knew.
"Say it again," he said.
I swallowed. "Let's get married."
The way he looked at me then made my chest tighten, like the words had actually landed somewhere between insanity and possibility.
"Okay," he said quietly.
"Okay?" I repeated, blinking.
"That's it? No argument?"
"I'll call my lawyer tomorrow," he said, standing. "We'll draw up a contract."
My throat went dry. "You're serious?"
"You're the one who suggested it."
I stared at him, unsure if I'd just solved my biggest problem or created a new one.
"Then we have a deal," I said finally, standing too.
He offered his hand.
I hesitated, then took it.
His grip was firm, warm, steady.
"Agreed," he said.
The room felt heavier, charged.
I stepped back first, trying to breathe normally.
"This stays between us," I said.
"No one finds out."
"Agreed," he said again, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
"Goodnight, Mrs. Maxim."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't start."
But the smile he gave me before I walked out the door stayed in my head the whole ride home.
And for the first time in months, I couldn't tell if I'd just made the smartest move of my life.
Or the most dangerous one.