The Proposal
Toronto was cruel in January.
Not loud cruel. Not dramatic cruel.
Just quiet. Icy. Unforgiving.
The kind of cold that didn't just sting your skin it seeped into bone.
Evelyn Carter adjusted the collar of her wool coat as she stepped out of the Uber onto Bay Street. Snow drifted in slow spirals under the city lights, settling against the sharp glass towers of downtown Toronto. Above her, Reed Dynamics' headquarters rose into the grey sky like something carved from steel and arrogance.
Forty-eight floors.
She stared up at it.
Four years ago, her father had stood in this very district, hopeful. Optimistic. Believing a partnership with Reed Dynamics would secure his cybersecurity firm's future.
Six months later, he lost everything.
Eight months after that, he was gone.
Evelyn inhaled slowly, steadying herself.
This wasn't about grief.
This was about precision.
Inside, the lobby gleamed in black marble and gold accents. Security was tight. Cameras. Private reception desk. Controlled elevators.
Power had a scent.
It smelled like polished floors and expensive cologne.
"Name?" the receptionist asked politely.
"Evelyn Carter. I have a 3:00 p.m. meeting with Mr. Reed."
There was the faintest flicker of recognition at her last name.
Good.
The elevator ride to the forty eighth floor felt longer than it was. Evelyn watched her reflection in the mirrored walls calm eyes, neutral mouth, posture straight.
No one would see the war happening inside her.
The doors opened.
The executive floor was silent.
Minimalist.
Controlled.
A woman in a tailored navy suit approached. "Ms. Carter? I'm Elena Brooks. Mr. Reed will see you now."
The office doors opened automatically.
And there he was.
Alexander Reed.
Standing near the floor to ceiling windows overlooking Lake Ontario, hands clasped behind his back. Dark charcoal suit. Crisp white shirt. No tie. Controlled power in human form.
He didn't turn immediately.
He made her wait.
Interesting.
Finally, he spoke. "You have ten minutes."
His voice was calm. Even. Not loud.
He turned.
And the rumors didn't do him justice.
Sharp jaw. Cool grey eyes. Expression unreadable. The kind of man who didn't raise his voice because he never needed to.
Evelyn stepped forward.
"I won't need ten."
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
Confidence recognized confidence.
"Sit," he said.
She didn't.
"I prefer standing."
A pause.
The faintest hint of amusement crossed his face.
"Most people don't," he replied.
"I'm not most people."
Silence stretched between them measured, assessing.
He walked back to his desk, pressing a button on a sleek tablet. "You requested this meeting personally. You bypassed my assistant and three layers of executive screening. That alone makes you interesting."
She placed a slim leather folder on his desk.
"I'm here to offer you something you need."
That got his attention.
"Which is?"
"A wife."
The word landed in the air like glass shattering.
For the first time, something shifted in his expression.
Not shock.
Curiosity.
"Excuse me?"
"You're under federal review for the AI security contract. Your board wants stability. Public trust. Clean optics. Investors are nervous." She met his gaze directly. "You need a controlled narrative."
He leaned back in his chair slowly.
"And you believe you're that narrative?"
"I don't believe," she said evenly. "I know."
He studied her now.
Not dismissing. Not mocking.
Evaluating.
"You're suggesting a… marriage."
"A contractual one."
He steepled his fingers. "On what basis do you assume I'd agree to something so absurd?"
"Because it solves your problem."
She moved closer, sliding the folder toward him.
Inside were printed headlines.
REED DYNAMICS UNDER INVESTIGATION.CEO REMAINS UNMARRIED AT 32.STABILITY CONCERNS RISE AMONG SHAREHOLDERS.
Public perception.
Narrative gaps.
He skimmed them without emotion.
"And what," he asked calmly, "do you gain from this arrangement?"
There it was.
The question she'd rehearsed for months.
"Financial compensation. Housing. Access to your corporate social circle for networking purposes. After twelve months, we dissolve the marriage quietly."
All technically true.
Just not complete.
"And why you?" he asked.
"Because I'm not a liability. I have no public scandals. No social media controversies. Clean academic record. Finance background. I understand corporate language."
She didn't blink.
"I also understand loyalty to contracts."
Something in his gaze sharpened at that.
"You're remarkably prepared."
"Yes."
"What's your real angle, Ms. Carter?"
The sound of her last name in his voice felt like a blade sliding across skin.
He didn't recognize it.
Not yet.
"Ambition," she replied smoothly.
He stood.
Walked around the desk.
Stopped in front of her.
He was taller than she expected.
Closer than she expected.
"You approached me," he said quietly. "That suggests either extraordinary courage… or desperation."
"Neither," she answered. "Opportunity."
The air between them felt charged.
Outside, snow began falling harder, streaking across the glass behind him.
"And what makes you think I'd marry a stranger?" he asked.
"You don't need to trust me," she said. "You need to use me."
Silence.
Measured.
Calculated.
He circled her slowly, as if assessing an investment.
"You understand," he said finally, "that if I agree to this, I control the terms."
"Of course."
"You will move into my penthouse."
"Yes."
"You will attend every public event required."
"I will."
"You will not embarrass me."
A faint flicker in her eyes.
"Nor you me."
That almost made him smile.
Almost.
"And if emotions complicate this arrangement?" he asked.
"They won't."
His gaze dropped briefly to her left hand.
Bare.
"No fiancé to object?"
"No."
"No attachments?"
"No."
Truth again.
Just incomplete.
He stepped back.
Walked to the window.
The city stretched below them — indifferent, powerful, cold.
"Why now?" he asked without turning.
"Because your board votes in six weeks," she replied. "And public sentiment shifts faster than stock prices."
A long pause.
Then
"You've done your research."
"Yes."
"And if I refuse?"
She met his reflection in the glass.
"Then your competitors will enjoy watching Reed Dynamics bleed."
A test.
He turned slowly.
That was the first real reaction she saw.
Interest.
Not anger.
Interest.
"You're either very brave," he murmured, "or very reckless."
"Those are often the same thing."
He walked back to his desk.
Pressed a button.
"Grace," he said into the intercom, "cancel my next meeting."
Evelyn's pulse skipped once.
Just once.
He looked at her again.
"You have twenty-four hours," he said. "I'll have my legal team draft a contract. If I find one inconsistency in your background, this conversation never happened."
"You won't," she replied.
A faint smirk.
"Confident."
"Prepared."
Silence stretched again.
Then
"One year," he said. "No extensions."
"One year."
"Publicly affectionate."
"Convincing."
"No betrayal."
The word hung heavier than the others.
She held his gaze.
"Agreed."
He extended his hand.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Then she took it.
His grip was firm.
Warm.
Controlled.
Electric.
"Welcome to the arrangement, Ms. Carter."
Snow battered the windows behind them.
Toronto didn't care about contracts.
But it was about to witness one that would change everything.
And as Evelyn walked toward the elevator, she allowed herself one private thought
Step one is complete.
Alexander Reed had just agreed to marry the daughter of the man he destroyed.
He just didn't know it yet.