Ryan didn’t hesitate. He leaned slightly forward, with a smooth motion, pulling a business card from the inside pocket of his jacket. He placed it on the table between them, as if it were the definitive answer to all the unspoken questions.
"Ryan Carter," he said, locking eyes with her. "If you want, you can look me up later. I’m not hard to find."
Amber looked at the card, her fingers reluctantly reaching toward it. She knew how these things worked. Men like him weren’t the kind of people who casually crossed paths with anyone, especially not with her. Yet, here it was—the card, right in front of her, as if it were the key to a whole new world.
She picked it up, feeling the cool, solid texture of the paper between her fingers. “Ryan Carter,” she murmured, testing the name. “And you think a business card is going to convince me to accept your crazy proposal?”
Ryan remained unfazed, his calm never wavering. “I’m not here to convince you of anything. I’m just offering an opportunity.” He watched her with an intensity that made the air between them feel even heavier.
Amber stared at him for a moment, the silence hanging between them. There was something in his gaze, something that made her feel he wasn’t just asking her for a favor. He was giving her a real chance to change things, but at what cost? She wasn’t sure.
Alright, let’s say I’m interested," she said, her voice low and steady, her defenses slipping just slightly. “What’s next?”
Ryan's gaze sharpened, his posture shifting as he leaned forward slightly, sensing the subtle change in Amber's tone. "Next?" he repeated, his voice smooth and deliberate. "We move forward with the agreement. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the contract, outlining all the details. It’s simple, straightforward. You stay married to me for a year. After that, you’re free to go, with the money and everything else we agreed on."
Amber’s heart pounded as she absorbed his words, the weight of the situation settling in. A year. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel the full impact of what that meant. A year of living a life she hadn’t chosen, tethered to a man she barely knew, doing something that felt… impossible. But the lure of the freedom that would come after, the fresh start, the money—it was tempting. Too tempting.
“And what happens during that year?” she asked, her eyes narrowing, trying to gauge if this was more than just an empty promise.
Ryan sat back, his expression neutral but firm. "Here’s the deal," he said, his voice colder now, almost detached. “We live together. No intimacy, just a business arrangement. You stay in your room, I stay in mine. We'll go out together sometimes, to make it look convincing. And then, when the time comes, we announce the Las Vegas wedding.”
Amber’s eyes narrowed. "You want me to pretend to be your wife," she said, her tone incredulous. "Like, for real?”
“That’s exactly it,” Ryan answered, his gaze unwavering. “But let me make this clear. This isn’t some fantasy. I’m not offering you anything more than this deal. I don’t find you attractive, Amber. I’m doing this because I have to, not because I want to. So don’t get any ideas.”
Amber stared at him, a sharp sting from his words cutting through her, though she quickly masked it with a cool expression. “So, what? We’re just supposed to live together and pretend like we’re in love or something?”
Ryan’s lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but wasn’t far from a sneer either. “Not love. Just a contract. To the outside world, we’ll need to seem like we’re in love, but that's all it is. I’m doing this because it’s what’s required, not because I’m looking for a wife or anything like that. I don’t want anything to do with you in that sense. Understood?”
She exhaled sharply, the weight of his words sinking in. She wasn’t sure if she was more insulted by the idea of living with him or by the fact that he couldn’t even pretend to be attracted to her. “And what happens if I say no?”
His eyes met hers, flat and unbothered. “You stay stuck in your miserable life. Nothing changes. You don’t have other options, Amber. This is it. Take it or leave it.”
Amber’s jaw clenched. This wasn’t just an offer; it was a command disguised as one. She hated it, but she knew the pressure was mounting. There was no easy way out. “Fine,” she muttered under her breath, “I’ll think about it.”
Ryan stood up and started walking towards the door. “Think fast. If you say no, I’ll move on to someone else. Simple as that.”
Amber crossed her arms, her brow furrowed in disbelief. “How are we even supposed to pull this off? You’re a rich businessman, and I’m... a stripper. People aren’t going to buy it.”
Ryan returned to the table and sat back down. He didn’t hesitate. “That’s exactly why I came to this dump.” He said it with such cold indifference that it made Amber feel even smaller in the moment. “I hired private detectives to patrol strip bars. I told them to find women who weren’t sleeping with men for money, who weren’t addicted to alcohol or drugs. You were their pick. They said you were clean, you weren’t like the others.”
Amber’s stomach twisted. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words didn’t come. This wasn’t just a job offer anymore. It felt like she had no choice but to accept.
Ryan's gaze shifted to her with a cold, calculated look. "No one in my world should ever know about this place, or the women here. My associates, they prefer more refined... options." His eyes ran over her, lingering on the white babydoll she wore, the fake blonde hair, and the acrylic nails she had. His expression twisted with a mix of disdain and something like disgust. "With a proper makeover, you won’t look like one of these girls. You’ll fit in better."
The implication was clear: he didn’t think much of her, at least not in her current state. Amber’s heart sank as she felt the weight of his judgment. This wasn’t just a contract—this was about transforming her into something he found more acceptable, something he could tolerate.
Amber took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, the weight of his words pressing down on her. "Alright, let me think about it," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.
Ryan stood up, straightening his jacket as he glanced at her one last time, his tone sharp and final. "You’ve got until 8 p.m. tomorrow. If I don’t hear from you by then, I’ll move on to other options." He turned on his heel, heading for the door without waiting for a response.
