Flash Marriage To The Billionaire CEO

Rain lashed against the windows, turning the glowing skyline into a smear of silver and black. Elena Carter sat frozen at the corner of the bar, an untouched glass of Merlot trembling between her fingers.

Three years.

Three years of stolen kisses, whispered promises, and plans for the future — shattered in one brutal moment. She had walked in early, a take-out coffee in one hand, only to find her boyfriend of three years tangled in bed with her best friend.

The betrayal tasted metallic on her tongue, bitter as the wine she finally threw back in one gulp. She laughed under her breath — cold, sharp, humorless. “To hell with love,” she muttered, setting the glass down with a thud.

Her phone buzzed with a message from her mother: Don’t forget, dinner at seven. The man I told you about will be there. He’s from a good family and he's reliable. Don’t be late.

Reliable. Safe. Exactly what she needed, right? A husband without romance, without heartbreak. A name on paper, a man who wouldn’t make her bleed inside.

By the time Elena arrived at the exclusive restaurant, the storm outside matched the one raging inside her chest. The maître d’ recognized her name immediately and escorted her past a long line of waiting guests. Curious eyes followed as she crossed the marble floor.

The corner booth was already occupied. And the man sitting there wasn’t “safe” by any definition.

He looked like sin carved into human form.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. The kind of face sculpted for magazine covers and corporate empires. His tailored suit sat perfectly on a frame that spoke of power and discipline. Even seated, he radiated control. He didn’t just sit at the table — he commanded it.

The wait staff hovered at a distance, wary and silent. A couple at the next table lowered their voices to a whisper. Whoever this man was, people noticed him… and kept their distance.

When his eyes lifted to hers, Elena felt pinned in place. They were cold, gray as winter steel, yet sharp with a glint that made her heartbeat trip.

“This is unexpected,” he said smoothly, his voice a low baritone, calm but carrying an edge that could slice through glass. “I don’t usually do blind dates.”

“Neither do I,” Elena shot back, sliding into the seat opposite him. She held her chin high, forcing her voice steady even though her palms were damp. “So let’s skip the small talk.”

One eyebrow arched. “Oh?”

“Marry me.”

The words were reckless, shocking even to her own ears — but satisfying. For once, she was the one making the rules.

A beat of silence. The faint clinking of cutlery and soft jazz from the restaurant filled the gap.

Then, his lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “That’s a bold offer.”

“I’m in no mood for dating,” Elena said, crossing her arms. “I just need a husband. Someone steady and dependable.”

“Dependable?” His voice carried an amused edge. “That’s not a word people usually use for me.”

He leaned forward slightly, and the low light caught on his angular cheekbones, the perfectly controlled curve of his mouth. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t care who you are.”

“Careful, Miss…” His gaze lingered, sharp enough to make her squirm. “Miss Carter.”

The sound of her name on his lips sent a jolt through her body. He’d already done his homework — or maybe he was just that powerful.

“My name,” he said at last, offering his hand, “is Adrian Blackwell.”

The name hit her like thunder. Even Elena, who rarely read business news, knew who he was — the billionaire CEO the media called The Devil in a Suit. A man who built an empire from nothing, who crushed competitors with a single phone call, whose icy demeanor sent grown men trembling.

Her pulse spiked, but she kept her voice even. “Fine. So what do you say, Mr. Blackwell?”

Adrian’s eyes darkened. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for the wine bottle, pouring two glasses with precise, unhurried movements. He slid one across to her but didn’t let go until her fingers brushed his.

“I say,” he murmured, “that I never do anything halfway. If you become my wife, Elena, you don’t get to walk away. I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

The intensity in his gaze made her breath catch. A chill ran down her spine — not of fear, but something far more dangerous.

She forced a smirk. “So you’re agreeing?”

Adrian tilted his head, as if studying her, testing how far her courage went. “Why me? Out of all the men in this city?”

“Because you’re here,” Elena shot back, not missing a beat. “And you’re obviously not boring.”

That earned her another slow, wicked smile. “Oh, I’m many things, Elena Carter. But boring isn’t one of them.”

He raised his glass. “To bold decisions.”

Elena clinked her glass against his, a spark zipping through her fingers at the brief contact. “Good. Neither do I.”

For a long moment, they stared at each other over the rim of their glasses. The storm outside raged louder, wind howling against the windows. Somewhere deep inside, Elena felt a warning she couldn’t quite name.

But she ignored it. After all, this was supposed to be simple. Clean. A marriage of convenience, nothing more.

“Very well,” Adrian said softly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Let’s play this game of yours, Elena Carter. But remember…”

He leaned forward, his breath warm against her ear.

“When I take a wife, I never let her go.”

Before she could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen once, his lips curving in approval, and answered.

“Cancel my morning meetings,” he said simply. “I have more important business tomorrow… I’m getting married.”

He ended the call and stood, extending his hand toward her. “Come with me.”

Elena hesitated. “Where?”

Adrian’s smile was pure danger. “To buy you a ring. Unless you expect me to propose over cheap wine.”