Amara did not sleep.
She tried.
She lay on her bed, turned to one side, then the other. Pulled the blanket over herself, then kicked it away minutes later.
Her eyes closed.
Her mind refused to follow.
Every time she drifted close to sleep, his voice pulled her back.
Calm. Controlled. Certain.
Three months.
Enough to never struggle again.
She groaned softly and sat up, pressing her palms into her eyes.
"This is ridiculous."
It had to be.
Nothing about that man made sense. Nothing about that offer felt real.
People did not just walk into your life and offer to fix everything.
Not without a cost.
Pretend to be his girlfriend.
The words sounded even more absurd now.
Amara swung her legs off the bed and stood, pacing slowly.
"No," she said quietly. "I already said no."
And she meant it.
She had meant it when she walked out of that office.
Head high. Pride intact.
She did not sell herself.
She did not bend just because life got difficult.
She had survived worse.
Hadn't she?
Her steps slowed.
Her gaze shifted toward the table.
The notice was still there.
Unmoving. Silent.
Waiting.
Three days.
Her chest tightened before she quickly looked away.
"I'll figure something out," she whispered.
She always did.
Even when it felt impossible.
—
Morning came too soon.
Amara moved through it without thinking. Got dressed. Tied her hair back. Grabbed her bag.
But something felt off.
Like the world had shifted slightly overnight.
Like she was standing at the edge of something she could not see yet.
She shook the feeling away.
Focus.
She had work.
—
The café was already alive when she arrived.
Voices overlapped. Cups clinked. The espresso machine hissed in the background.
Normal.
Grounding.
This was her reality.
Not quiet offices and men who spoke like they were used to being obeyed.
"You look terrible," Lila said, eyeing her as she tied her apron.
Amara huffed.
"Good morning to you too."
"I'm serious. Did you even sleep?"
"Not really."
Lila frowned.
"That's becoming a pattern."
"I don't have a choice."
Lila held her gaze for a moment.
"You're going to burn out."
"I don't have the luxury of burning out."
The words came out flat.
Honest.
And that was the end of that conversation.
—
The hours blurred together.
Orders. Faces. Smiles that felt automatic.
Amara moved like she always did. Efficient. Focused.
But her mind refused to stay present.
It kept drifting back.
To him.
To the way he had looked at her.
To the way he had spoken like he already knew the outcome.
Her grip tightened slightly around the tray in her hands.
He was arrogant.
That was the only word that fit.
Completely certain. Completely in control.
And yet…
He had not been wrong.
That was the problem.
Every single thing he said about her life had been accurate.
Uncomfortably accurate.
Like he had seen straight through her.
—
"Amara."
She blinked, pulled back to reality.
Her manager stood in front of her.
"There's someone asking for you."
Her brows furrowed.
"For me?"
"Yes. And I suggest you don't keep him waiting."
Something in her chest dropped.
Slow and heavy.
Amara turned toward the seating area.
And there he was.
Ethan Blake.
Sitting like he belonged there.
Like he belonged anywhere.
Even here, in a crowded café, he stood out.
Not because he tried to.
Because he didn't have to.
Amara exhaled slowly.
"You've got to be kidding me."
—
She walked toward him, steady but cautious.
He looked up as she approached.
That same unreadable expression.
"You're persistent," she said.
"And you're predictable."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I said no."
"You said no yesterday."
"And my answer hasn't changed."
He studied her for a moment.
Then gestured to the seat across from him.
"Sit."
Amara let out a quiet laugh.
"Do people usually listen to you this easily?"
"Yes."
The confidence in that answer irritated her more than it should have.
"I'm working."
"I won't take long."
She hesitated.
Then sat.
"Five minutes," she said. "That's it."
Ethan nodded.
"Fair."
He reached into his jacket and placed a document on the table.
Amara glanced at it.
Then back at him.
"What is that?"
"The contract."
Her chest tightened slightly.
"You really don't give up."
"I don't waste opportunities."
Her lips pressed together.
"I'm not signing anything."
"I didn't ask you to. Not yet."
Her gaze sharpened.
"Then why are you here?"
"To make sure you understand what you're refusing."
That made her pause.
He leaned back slightly.
"You're treating this like something personal."
"It is personal."
"No," he said calmly. "It's strategic."
Amara scoffed softly.
"Right. Because fake relationships are such a solid business move."
"For someone in my position, they are."
Her brows pulled together.
"What position?"
He watched her.
Carefully.
Like he was measuring how much she could handle.
"I have a reputation to maintain," he said finally. "Investors. Public expectations."
"And that requires me?"
"It requires stability."
Amara shook her head.
"This is insane."
"Or unfamiliar."
She leaned forward slightly.
"Why me?"
That question had been there since the beginning.
Why her?
Out of everyone.
Why her?
Ethan's gaze held hers.
"Because you're not impressed by me."
That caught her off guard.
"What?"
"You need money," he said. "But you don't need validation."
She stared at him.
Trying to process that.
"Most people would already be agreeing," he continued. "Trying to secure their position before I change my mind."
A pause.
"You didn't."
Something in her chest shifted.
"And that's supposed to convince me?"
"It should make you think."
She looked away briefly.
Because it did.
—
"What are the rules?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Ethan's expression changed slightly.
Interest.
"You're considering it."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't need to."
Amara exhaled.
"Just answer the question."
A pause.
Then—
"Three months," he said. "Public appearances. Events. Dinners. Travel when necessary."
Her stomach tightened slightly.
Travel?
"No emotional attachment," he continued. "No interference in my personal life. And complete discretion."
She let out a soft laugh.
"You really think feelings work like switches?"
"Yes."
That answer came too easily.
Too cold.
"And if they don't?"
"You leave."
Just like that.
Simple.
Clean.
Too clean.
Amara studied him.
"You've done this before."
Silence.
That was answer enough.
Something twisted in her chest.
She ignored it.
"And what do I get?"
He pushed the document closer.
"A way out."
Her eyes dropped to the page.
Then widened slightly.
The number staring back at her did not feel real.
Her breath caught.
"That's…"
"Yes."
Her pulse quickened.
This was more than money.
This was freedom.
From stress. From fear. From nights like yesterday.
From choices like this.
"You're asking me to step into your world," she said quietly.
"I'm offering you a chance to leave yours."
That hit deeper than she expected.
Because for a moment…
She wanted to.
—
"Amara."
Her manager's voice broke through.
She looked up quickly.
"I need you back."
"Coming."
She stood immediately.
Grateful for the interruption.
"I have to go."
Ethan nodded.
"Of course."
She hesitated.
Then pushed the document back toward him.
"I haven't agreed to anything."
"I know."
She grabbed her tray.
"And stop showing up here."
A brief pause.
Then—
"You have two days now."
Her steps faltered.
Just slightly.
"You're running out of time."
She didn't turn back.
But his words followed her anyway.
—
That night felt heavier.
The silence louder.
The notice closer.
Two days.
Amara sat slowly.
Her thoughts tangled.
This was no longer just about money.
It was about who she was.
What she stood for.
What she was willing to become.
She leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"What am I doing…"
Because for the first time
Saying no did not feel strong
It felt like a risk she might not survive.