Julian stood outside Lumière exactly three minutes before three o'clock, still wearing his chef's whites from the lunch shift he'd actually worked. The fabric was warm from the kitchen heat, and he'd deliberately left a small stain on the sleeve, marinara sauce, visible but not excessive. Details mattered in a performance like this.
Through the restaurant's windows, he could see Harper already seated at her usual table. She sat with perfect posture, a leather portfolio in front of her, checking her phone with the kind of focused intensity that suggested she was counting down the seconds until he arrived.
Julian took a breath, settled into character, and walked inside.
Harper looked up as he approached. Her expression gave nothing away, but Julian had spent years reading people in boardrooms where millions of dollars hung on the ability to spot a tell. He saw the microscopic tension in her shoulders ease when she recognized him, the way her fingers stopped their restless tapping against the table.
She'd been afraid he wouldn't come.
"Mr. Miller," she said as he reached the table.
"Ms. Thorne." Julian sat down without waiting for permission, a small act of confidence that he immediately undercut by ducking his head slightly. "I've thought about your offer."
"And?"
Julian let the pause stretch just long enough to make her wonder, then said, "I'll do it."
Something flickered in Harper's eyes. Relief, maybe, or satisfaction. It was there and gone so quickly he might have imagined it.
"But I need to understand what I'm getting into," he continued, leaning forward. "The rules you mentioned. The expectations. What exactly are you asking me to do?"
Harper opened the portfolio with precise movements, revealing a contract that had to be at least forty pages thick. "I've had my lawyers draw up the agreement. The terms are straightforward."
She turned the document so he could see it, though Julian knew she was watching his face more than expecting him to actually read the dense legal language.
"We'll marry immediately," Harper said, her voice clinical. "A civil ceremony with minimal witnesses. You'll live in my home but maintain your own bedroom. We'll attend public events together as needed to maintain the appearance of a legitimate marriage. You will not discuss our arrangement with anyone under penalty of immediately voiding the contract. There will be no physical relationship of any kind. After one year, we'll divorce quietly and go our separate ways."
She paused, meeting his eyes directly. "In exchange, you'll receive five million dollars, tax-free, held in escrow and released upon successful completion of the contract term. If you break any term of this agreement, you receive nothing."
Julian let his eyes widen appropriately. "Five million. That's... that's real? This isn't some kind of joke?"
"I don't joke about business, Mr. Miller."
He nodded slowly, reaching out to touch the contract but not quite picking it up. "And these public events. What kind of events are we talking about?"
"Corporate dinners. Charity galas. Possibly some board meetings where appearances matter." Harper's tone suggested these were minor inconveniences. "Nothing you can't handle with basic social skills."
"And your business associates, will they... will they talk to me? Ask questions about our relationship?"
"Probably. Which is why we'll establish a cover story. We met at the restaurant, connected over a shared interest in..." She paused, considering. "Food and wine, obviously. We kept the relationship private until we were certain. Simple. Believable."
Julian nodded, asking questions that sounded nervous but were actually gathering tactical information. "Where exactly do you live? How big is the house? Will there be staff? Other people around?"
"I have a home in Westmont Heights. Twenty rooms, a full security system, and a housekeeper who comes three times a week. But she's discreet and well-paid to be so." Harper tilted her head slightly. "Why does that matter?"
"I just... I need to know what I'm walking into." Julian ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of overwhelmed uncertainty. "This is a lot to process."
"Which is why everything is spelled out in the contract." Harper slid another document across the table. "This is the prenuptial agreement. It protects my assets, both current and future. You'll sign this as well."
Julian picked up the prenup, actually reading it this time. Richard Moss had done excellent work. Every possible loophole was closed, every asset protected. If this marriage ended badly, Julian couldn't touch a single dollar of Harper's money beyond the agreed-upon five million.
It was ironclad. Impressive, actually.
"This seems really one-sided," he said carefully, looking up at her.
"It is." Harper didn't apologize. "This protects me, not you. The five million dollars protects you. That's the arrangement."
Julian set down the prenup and leaned back, letting uncertainty show on his face. "What if it doesn't work? What if we can't stand each other after a month? What if I want out?"
Harper's expression hardened into something cold and absolute. "Then you get nothing. The contract is clear, Mr. Miller. One full year, or the deal is void. I'm not paying you five million dollars for half a job."
Julian appeared to swallow hard, his throat working visibly. Inside, he was cataloging every detail, every clause, every weakness in Harper's armor. She'd built her cage tight, but she'd also built it with bars wide enough for someone clever to slip through.
"Okay," he said finally. "I understand."
"Do you?" Harper studied him for a long moment. "Because once you sign these documents, there's no going back. I need to know you're committed to seeing this through."
Julian met her eyes, letting her see what she wanted to see: a man who was in over his head but desperate enough to try anyway.
"I'm committed," he said. "When do we sign?"
Harper checked her watch. "Now. My lawyer's office is fifteen minutes from here. He's expecting us."
Richard Moss's law office occupied the top three floors of a building that had probably been elegant in the 1920s and was now just expensive. Harper led Julian through security and into an elevator that moved with whisper-quiet efficiency.
She hadn't said a word since they left the restaurant.
Julian watched her reflection in the polished elevator doors. She stood perfectly still, her hands loose at her sides, her expression revealing nothing. But he could see the tension in the line of her jaw, the way she was holding herself just a fraction too rigidly.
She was scared.
Not of him, he realized. Scared that something would go wrong, that this last-ditch plan would fall apart before she could make it real.
The elevator opened onto a reception area that screamed old money. Dark wood paneling, leather furniture, and a receptionist who looked like she'd been working there since the building opened.
"Ms. Thorne," the receptionist said warmly. "Mr. Moss is expecting you. Conference room two."
Harper nodded and led Julian down a hallway lined with portraits of presumably important lawyers. She opened a door near the end, revealing a conference room dominated by a table that could seat twenty.
Richard Moss stood when they entered. He was in his sixties, grey-haired and sharp-eyed, wearing a suit that had definitely been tailored specifically for him.
"Harper." He greeted her with genuine warmth, then turned to Julian. "And you must be Mr. Miller."
Julian shook his hand. Richard's grip was firm, assessing. Julian let himself be assessed, keeping his own handshake confident but not aggressive.
"Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice," Julian said.
"Of course." Richard's tone was professional, but Julian caught the way his eyes lingered just a fraction too long, the subtle concern in his expression when he glanced at Harper.
Richard Moss didn't approve of this arrangement. But he was enough of a professional to keep that opinion to himself.
They sat. Richard spread the documents across the table with practiced efficiency. "I've prepared everything as you requested, Harper. Mr. Miller, I'm going to walk you through each document point by point. If you have any questions at any time, please stop me."
Julian nodded.
For the next forty minutes, Richard explained every clause, every condition, every consequence of the agreement Julian was about to sign. Harper sat silently beside him, her hands folded on the table, watching.
Julian asked questions that sounded uncertain but were actually probing for information. Where would the five million be held? What bank? What would happen if Harper died during the contract period? What if he died?
Richard answered each question with patient thoroughness.
Finally, he pushed the signature page across the table. "If you understand everything and agree to these terms, sign here."
Julian picked up the expensive fountain pen Richard provided. He could feel both of them watching him, waiting for hesitation, for doubt, for some sign that he was having second thoughts.
He signed with steady hands.
The signature was elegant, flowing, the product of years of signing documents worth millions of dollars. Julian realized his mistake the instant the pen left the paper.
He glanced up and found Harper staring at his signature with a small frown.
"That's... nice handwriting," she said slowly.
Julian felt his pulse spike but kept his expression confused. "Oh. Thanks. My mother was really strict about penmanship when I was a kid."
He laughed self-consciously, a small embarrassed sound. "She made me practice for hours. Kind of stuck with me, I guess."
Harper's frown faded. "My father was the same way."
The moment passed. Richard slid the prenup across the table, and Julian signed that too, this time making his signature slightly messier, more hurried.
"Excellent." Richard gathered the documents efficiently. "Harper, I'll file these today. The marriage license is ready. You can proceed with the ceremony whenever you're ready."
"Tomorrow," Harper said. "We'll do it tomorrow."
Richard nodded, but his concern deepened. "Are you certain about this timeline? You could wait a few days, give yourself time to…"
"Tomorrow," Harper repeated, her voice allowing no argument.
Richard sighed but didn't push. "Very well. I'll make the arrangements with Judge Patterson. Shall we say ten o'clock at the courthouse?"
"Ten o'clock," Harper confirmed.
They were standing to leave when someone knocked on the conference room door.
Richard frowned. "I didn't schedule any other appointments."
The door opened before he could reach it.
Clark Thorne stood in the doorway, smiling as if he had just won the lottery.
Julian felt everything inside him go still and sharp. This was the man. The face he'd studied in surveillance photos, the voice he'd heard on recorded phone calls, the predator he'd been hunting for three years.
And now they were standing ten feet apart.
"Harper, sweetheart." Clark's voice was warm molasses with poison underneath. "Richard. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?"
Harper's spine straightened, her expression hardening into ice. "Uncle Clark. What are you doing here?"
"I had business with Richard. Imagine my surprise when his receptionist mentioned you were here." Clark's eyes slid to Julian, and his smile sharpened. "And who is this?"
Julian watched Harper make her decision. He could see it in her eyes, the split-second calculation, the realization that lying would only delay the inevitable.
"This is Jay Miller," she said, moving slightly closer to Julian. "My fiancé."
The word landed in the room like a grenade.
Clark's smile never wavered, but something predatory flashed in his eyes. He stepped forward, extending his hand to Julian. "Fiancé. My, my. This is sudden."
Julian shook his hand, keeping his grip firm but not challenging. Up close, Clark smelled like expensive cologne and entitled arrogance. "Mr. Thorne. It's an honor to meet you, sir. Harper's told me a lot about you."
"Has she?" Clark's grip tightened just slightly, a power play. "Funny, she hasn't mentioned you at all."
"We've been keeping it private," Harper said quickly. "Until we were certain."
Clark released Julian's hand, his eyes traveling over him with undisguised contempt. Taking in the chef's whites, the small stain on the sleeve, and the off-the-rack watch.
"And what is it you do, Mr. Miller?"
"I'm a chef, sir. At Lumière."
"A chef," Clark repeated the word like it tasted bad. "How... charming. And how exactly did you two meet?"
Julian let himself look slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "Harper came into the restaurant a few weeks ago. We started talking, and... we just connected, I guess."
He glanced at Harper, trying to look like a man in love rather than a man executing a contract. "She's pretty amazing."
Harper's hand found his arm, a gesture that looked affectionate but Julian could feel the tension in her fingers. "When you know, you know."
Clark's smile was all teeth now. "Indeed. And when's the happy day?"
"Tomorrow," Harper said, lifting her chin in defiance.
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
"Tomorrow." Clark's voice was soft, dangerous. "Well. That's quite a whirlwind romance. I suppose congratulations are in order."
He didn't sound congratulatory at all.
"Thank you," Julian said, deliberately missing the threat in Clark's tone. "It means a lot to have family support."
Clark looked at him like he was examining an insect. "I'm sure it does." He turned back to Harper. "Richard, if we could have that meeting now? I won't keep you from your... celebration."
"Of course," Richard said, his discomfort obvious. "Harper, Mr. Miller, if you'll excuse us."
Harper nodded stiffly. Julian followed her toward the door, but paused to look back. "It was good to meet you, sir. I hope we'll have a chance to talk more at the wedding."
Clark's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure we will."
In the hallway, Harper walked quickly toward the elevator, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Julian caught up with her just as the elevator doors opened.
They stepped inside. The doors closed. And only then did Harper let out a breath that sounded like she'd been holding it for hours.
"He knows," she said quietly.
Julian glanced at her. "Knows what?"
"About it. The marriage clause." Harper leaned against the elevator wall. "He has to know. Why else would he be there? Why else would he look at you like... like..."
"Like I'm beneath you?" Julian finished.
Harper's eyes snapped to him. "I didn't mean…"
"It's fine." Julian kept his voice gentle. "He's not wrong, is he? By his standards, I am beneath you. Way beneath you."
Harper studied him for a long moment. "He's going to try to stop this. He'll look for any excuse to invalidate the marriage, any loophole he can exploit."
"Then we'll just have to make sure there aren't any loopholes." Julian met her eyes. "I signed the contract, Harper. I'm in this. He doesn't scare me."
It wasn't entirely true. Clark Thorne didn't scare him, but the man was dangerous. Julian had learned that the hard way through years of investigation. Clark destroyed people who got in his way, and now Julian had just put himself directly in his path.
But that's what he'd wanted all along.