Chapter one

Chapter one

Rosaline's POV:

“Lady Rosie! Incoming!”

A loud shout is all the warning I get before I notice the donut flying right for my head. I step to the side and catch it on the tip of my flats.

“Saved! But I doubt it's still edible,” I say with a smile, turning to glance at the culprit.

Jonas approaches me, a shy smile on his boyish face. He picks the fallen donut. He's holding a box of donuts which he offers me, pink laced across his cheeks. “I saved the strawberry jam one for you,”

“Thank you so much, darling. But unfortunately, sweets aren't my favourite.”

“Aww that's the eighth time this week?” Violet appears and slings an arm over his shoulder. “I love strawberry jam. Can I —”

Jonas snatches the donut and stuffs it into his mouth. “Fuck off,”

The rest of the office bursts out laughing. I smile too, shaking my head at their antics. “I have to go now, I'm sure Mr —”

“Miss Carter!” A loud deep voice shakes the very foundation of the office.

Everyone winces, and murmurs rise into the air.

“He's in a terrible mood this morning,” Violet whispers to me.

“I mean he's always in a terrible mood, but today's is really bad,” Jonas adds, his voice trembling. "He's yelled at me twice. And it's 9am."

I sigh. But of course, this is how my Monday mornings go. All my mornings for that. “I'll handle it.”

“Good luck lady Rosie,” they all whisper. “Brave the winter and come back victorious!”

I walk up to the office where a man is standing in the doorway.

Tall, broad, and extremely angry, is my boss Alaric Sylvester.

His cold blue eyes mirror an endless winter as he glares at me. Tendrils of inky black hair falls over his smooth pale forehead. He must have ran his fingers through it so many times. His lips are pursed and his arms folded across his chest, his index finger tapping rhythmically.

He's pissed. And that's a sight I see almost every day, so I'm not surprised.

“You are late,” he speaks. His voice has a cold quality, like the rest of him, settling deep in my bones like ice.

“My apologies, Mr Sylvester. But you approved my lateness. I was allowed to come in an hour later today.”

He cocks a dark brow, then narrows his eyes at me. “I must have been high. Come inside.”

A shuffle behind me makes me turn. Everyone is looking at me, their faces caught between hopeful and scared. I wink at them, just as Mr Sylvester screams my name again.

I'm right here! I almost yell, instead I inhale and walk into his office. The glass walls and expensive furnishing that used to fascinate me now fill me with a certain exhaustion.

There's someone else in the office, a tall slender woman dressed in a red LV suit. Her long black hair is similar to his, but her eyes are darker. She's so beautiful, like a supermodel.

She smiles when she sees me, rising to her feet. “Lady Rosie! You're finally here. My brother was losing his mind,”

I blink. She knows my nickname? But I don't know her. “I'm sorry, I didn't realise my absence had such an effect.”

She walks up to me and offers her manicured hand. “Estella Sylvester, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Enough of that,” Mr Sylvester snaps before I can shake her hand. “Miss Carter, your attention is needed here.”

I flash Estella an apologetic smile and walk over to him. He taps a long finger on a piece of paper, his jaw set tight.

“What is this?” I ask as I pick it up.

“I need a fiancée. I've decided it will be you.”

I stare at him like he has finally gone mad and smiled. “Excuse me?”

“Ah, let me explain,” Estella's heels clicks on the marble as she walks up to my side. “What he means to say is, we're in a bit of a pickle and he needs a wife. Urgently.”

“I fail to see how this concerns me.”

“You're the perfect choice, Miss Carter. You've been with me for seven years, so you know me well. You're smart, sensible and…” His eyes rake over me from top to bottom. “Not bad looking.”

Estella scoffs. “I'd say she's beautiful, brother. Will it kill you to admit it?”

He needs a wife? Ha! He must have frozen hell over.

But to be honest, I never imagined this man to ever be a romantic type, makes sense he would want a contract wife.

I didn't expect it would be me, either.

I've seen the kinds of women that surround him, heiresses and supermodels and actresses. Why didn't he just ask one of them? I'm sure one unfortunate lady would jump at the chance to become Mrs Sylvester, even for a short time.

"Well," he says, irritation in his voice.

I have just one concern.

“Will I be paid overtime?”

A quick look of suprise crosses his eyes. “Five billion dollars at the end of our agreed time period.”

I don't mean to, but I whistle. I quickly slam my hand over my mouth and mumble and apology. “That's some cool cash.”

“Miss Carter, it is vital to me that you understand, this isn't child's play. You will be my wife to the eye of the public, and to my family. I'm sure you're aware of the amount of responsibility it is."

“I am,” I say, failing to be unbothered. Surely being his wife can't be more taxing than being his assistant.

He's a good boss, he pays me well and he pays me on time. Everything else is.... unsatisfactory.

But this....hell yeah.

Five billion dollars? I'll be able to pay off all our debts. And send Richard to Harvard! Heck, I'll even retire and spend my days on an island, painting away my time and sipping wine.

But married to Alaric Sylvester? I shudder thinking about just how icy this man is. There's no desirable marriage qualities about him. Save for his money and name.

“Are you sure about this?” Estella asks. Her beautiful face is drawn into a frown and she gently touches my shoulder. “you don't have to do it, especially if you don't like it. I'm sure you have someone you love and want to marry.”

“No, I don't.”

She blinks, clearly surprised at my instant answer. “Oh, I thought you…”

“That's enough.” Mr Sylvester cuts in. “Read through the contract. Tomorrow morning at 9am, we'll have a meeting to discuss the terms.”

“Of course,” I say. “May I return to my work now?”

Something flashes across his eyes. Something I couldn't name. An emotion so out of place on his face. It's gone in an instant, replaced by a glower.

“What's my schedule for today?”

I list off his engagements for the day, having memorized them before hand. I can't deny the spark of excitement in my heart.

I'm going to be a fucking billionaire.