Wife for one year

"Five hundred thousand dollars."

Amelia Sinclair slowly raised her head.

The man sitting across from her had just offered her half a million dollars to marry him.

Not date him.

Not pretend to be his girlfriend at some ridiculous business function.

Marry him.

For one year.

She stared at him, wondering whether he was serious or whether the expensive restaurant had somehow become a stage for the most absurd joke she had ever heard.

Dominic Ashford didn't look like a man who joked.

At thirty, he was the youngest CEO in Ashford Enterprises' history. His face appeared regularly on business magazines, his name commanded respect in corporate circles, and his wealth was enough to make ordinary people nervous around him.

He was also extraordinarily handsome.

Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Broad shoulders beneath a perfectly tailored charcoal suit.

But it was his eyes that unsettled Amelia.

Cold, calculating, and completely uninterested in the woman sitting before him.

He looked at her as if she were a business proposal he hadn't yet decided whether to approve.

"Did you hear me?" he asked.

Amelia placed her glass of water on the table.

"Unfortunately, yes."

His eyebrows moved slightly.

"Unfortunately?"

"Your offer is rather insulting."

For the first time since she had entered the restaurant, Dominic Ashford gave her his full attention.

Most women would have smiled at him.

Some would have blushed.

Others would have immediately asked when the wedding was happening.

Amelia had just called half a million dollars insulting.

"Then tell me," he said, leaning back in his chair, "what amount would you consider acceptable?"

She nearly laughed.

If only he knew.

Amelia could purchase the restaurant they were sitting in without checking her bank balance. She could buy the building across the street, the company that owned it, and probably the entire block before lunch.

Her family's business empire, Sinclair Global, stretched across several countries. Her grandfather had spent decades building it, and her father had expanded it into one of the most powerful private business groups in the world.

Amelia was its sole designated heiress.

Yet here she was, wearing a simple cream blouse, a modest black skirt, and shoes that looked as though they had been purchased from a neighborhood market.

Her appearance was deliberate.

She wanted to know whether anyone could see beyond her wealth.

Especially a man who had made a fortune of his own.

"Perhaps," she replied, "you should explain why a man like you needs to buy a wife."

Dominic's expression hardened.

"I don't need a wife."

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

"Because my grandfather's will contains a condition that must be fulfilled before my thirty-second birthday."

"And that condition is marriage?"

"Correct."

"How romantic."

"I wasn't aware you were expecting romance."

"I'm not."

"Good. That makes this arrangement easier."

He opened a black folder and slid a document across the table.

"A civil marriage. Twelve months. We maintain separate bedrooms, respect each other's privacy, and avoid unnecessary interference in our personal affairs. At the end of the contract, we divorce."

Amelia glanced at the first page.

There were several clauses.

Too many clauses.

Dominic had apparently spent a considerable amount of money ensuring that his future wife understood exactly how little he expected from her.

"You've thought about this carefully," she observed.

"I don't leave important decisions to chance."

"And what happens if your wife falls in love with you?"

"She won't."

His answer came so quickly that Amelia almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

"You sound very certain."

"I make myself clear from the beginning. I have no intention of building a romantic relationship. You will have financial security, a comfortable home, and access to anything reasonably necessary for your position as my wife. In return, I expect discretion."

"And affection?"

"Not required."

"Companionship?"

"Occasionally, when our public appearances demand it."

"Children?"

"No."

Amelia looked up.

That answer had been particularly firm.

"Then why not hire an actress?"

"Because my grandfather would investigate her background, and I have no desire to explain a fabricated relationship to my family. I need a legitimate marriage."

"So you want a stranger to marry you, live in your house, smile beside you at events, and disappear after a year."

"Precisely."

She lowered her gaze to the contract.

The absurdity of the situation was almost impressive.

Her grandfather had been urging her to find someone who valued her as a person rather than an inheritance. She had spent years watching wealthy men suddenly become attentive whenever they discovered her family name.

She was tired of it.

Tired of the fake smiles.

Tired of the exaggerated compliments.

Tired of men who seemed to believe that marrying her would be the greatest investment of their lives.

Perhaps Dominic Ashford was exactly the kind of man she needed to meet.

He didn't want her money.

He didn't even want her love.

He wanted a wife who wouldn't complicate his life.

Amelia could certainly give him that.

At least for a while.

"Why me?" she asked.

Dominic studied her.

"Your application was recommended by an agency."

"An agency?"

"An arrangement service for people in specific circumstances. Your profile indicated that you preferred privacy and had no intention of pursuing a public relationship afterward."

Amelia almost choked on her water.

She had registered with the service under an ordinary name and a carefully prepared background, expecting nothing more than a few interviews for a personal assistant position.

She had never expected someone to mistake her application for a potential bride.

"Do you always choose your wife the way you choose employees?" she asked.

"When the circumstances are unusual, yes."

"That explains a lot."

His gaze sharpened.

"Do you intend to accept my offer?"

Amelia looked at him for several seconds.

There was something almost fascinating about his arrogance. He genuinely believed that the world could be divided into problems and solutions, and that every problem had a price.

She wondered what would happen when he discovered that some things could not be purchased.

"Before I answer," she said, "I have a condition of my own."

Dominic appeared unimpressed.

"Go on."

"I want complete independence over my personal finances."

"Agreed."

"I won't be expected to abandon my work."

"What work?"

She smiled faintly.

"That's none of your business, Mr Ashford. You just said we should respect each other's privacy."

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, unexpectedly, Dominic nodded.

"Fair enough."

"And if I decide to leave before the twelve months are over?"

"The contract will specify the circumstances under which either party may terminate the arrangement."

"How considerate."

"Miss Sinclair, I am not looking for a wife who needs to be convinced. If you don't want the arrangement, you are free to walk away."

Amelia believed him.

That was the strange thing.

He wasn't threatening her. He wasn't pleading with her. He wasn't pretending to be charming.

He had placed an offer on the table and expected her to make a decision.

She found that honesty refreshing, even if his personality left much to be desired.

"All right," she said.

Dominic paused.

"All right what?"

"I'll marry you."

He studied her face as though searching for a hidden motive.

"Just like that?"

"You made an offer. I considered it. I accepted."

"You haven't even negotiated the amount."

"I have no interest in your money."

The words escaped her before she could reconsider them.

Dominic's expression became unreadable.

"Everyone has an interest in money."

"Perhaps you should meet more interesting people."

For the first time, something resembling amusement flickered across his face.

It disappeared almost immediately.

"Then I hope you understand what you're agreeing to."

"I do."

"Don't expect me to change my mind about the conditions."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He closed the folder.

"Good. My lawyer will contact you tomorrow. We can arrange the civil ceremony for next week."

Next week.

Amelia had expected the process to take longer.

Apparently, Dominic Ashford approached marriage with the same urgency other people reserved for renewing a passport.

She stood and picked up her handbag.

"One more question."

He looked up.

"Yes?"

"Do you ever smile?"

His expression remained perfectly blank.

"Only when something is funny."

"That must make your life terribly exhausting."

"Good evening, Miss Sinclair."

Amelia laughed softly.

"Good evening, Mr Ashford."

She turned and walked away without looking back.

She had barely reached the restaurant entrance when her phone vibrated.

A message from her grandfather appeared on the screen.

Vincent: Have you finally met someone worth considering?

Amelia stared at the message.

Then she glanced through the glass doors.

Dominic was still sitting at the table, speaking to his assistant. He looked composed, distant, and completely convinced that his future had just been arranged.

A slow smile spread across her face.

Amelia: I may have found someone interesting.

His response arrived almost immediately.

Vincent: Interesting is not the same as trustworthy, my dear. Be careful.

Amelia slipped her phone into her handbag.

Trustworthy.

She wasn't looking for perfection.

She simply wanted to discover whether a man could know her without knowing her fortune.