Chapter 2: The Offer

Ava stared at the ceiling of her tiny dorm room, the contract spread open on her bed like a monster baring its teeth.

She’d read it twice. Then a third time. And now she was just… lying there, hoping it would evaporate if she ignored it long enough.

But it didn’t.

Clause 4B: “No public display of affection unless requested by Mr. Wolfe for press-related appearances.”

Clause 7C: “All matters related to marital intimacy are strictly prohibited unless mutually agreed upon in writing.”

Clause 10A: “Early termination of the contract by either party results in a $250,000 penalty.”

She rolled over and groaned. “What the hell am I even considering?”

The fluorescent light above flickered, echoing her mood. Her roommate was out for the weekend thank God because how was she supposed to explain this?

Fake marriage. To a billionaire. For money.

It sounded like a plot from the kind of romance novels she secretly binged on during midterms. The difference? She was living it and there was no guarantee of a happy ending.

Her phone vibrated.

Grayson Wolfe: I expect your answer by 10 AM tomorrow. Don’t waste my time, Ava.

Cold. Direct. Infuriating.

She tossed the phone aside, biting her lip hard enough to sting. “He could’ve at least said please.”

But deep down, she knew what scared her wasn’t the contract.

It was the thought of saying yes… and what that meant. What it would cost her not just in rules, but in parts of herself she wasn’t sure she could keep locked away.

The Next Day

The elevator ride felt like an ascent into another universe floor 46 of the infamous Wolfe Tower. Everything smelled of money. Even the silence had a price tag.

She stepped out and was immediately greeted by two stern-faced men in suits who scanned her ID. Again.

Security scan one.

Security scan two.

Retinal scan three.

Seriously, was she applying to be his wife or to hack into the Pentagon?

Finally, the double glass doors opened to reveal a sprawling penthouse office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a skyline view that made her gasp.

And there he was.

Grayson Wolfe. Real-life billionaire. And apparently, the man who thought marriage was just another business deal.

He sat behind a desk that looked like it cost more than her tuition for four years. He didn’t stand when she walked in. Didn’t smile either. Just observed her cool, calculated, like a man assessing a stock before buying.

“So,” Ava said, walking in. “You’re the sponsor.”

“I’m the solution,” he replied, fingers steepled like a Bond villain.

Ava raised a brow. “Do you always introduce yourself like a walking red flag?”

A pause. Then, unexpectedly, a soft chuckle. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Neither are you,” she said coolly. “I thought you’d be older. And meaner.”

“Oh, I’m mean,” he said smoothly. “You just haven’t earned it yet.”

Ava blinked. “Wow. Do girls actually fall for that?”

“They usually fall for the black card,” he said, reaching for a leather folder on his desk. “Let’s be clear. You need money. I need a favor. This isn’t a romance novel. It’s a contract.”

She crossed her arms. “You’re not going to, like, boss me around and call me your ‘little wife’?”

He smirked. “Not unless you’re into that.”

Ava’s cheeks flushed. Infuriating. Absolutely insufferable. But also… infuriatingly hot.

She cleared her throat. “Why marriage? Why not just donate like a normal billionaire?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes lingered on her just a moment longer than necessary.

“It’s complicated,” he said finally.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’ll get today.”

Ava studied him. This man wasn’t just rich he was dangerous. Not in the gun-slinging, mafia kind of way, but in the way a chess master is dangerous. He wasn’t playing with her. He was playing around her.

“You must really hate dating,” she muttered.

“I hate wasting time.”

“And what am I?”

He stood, walking toward her with quiet confidence. “A risk I’m willing to take.”

Her breath hitched. Up close, he was taller than she expected. Sharper. Like a sculpture come to life.

“This is temporary,” she said, more to herself than him.

“One year. No longer.”

“No… funny business.”

He smirked. “Only if you start it.”

And just like that, she knew this wasn’t going to be simple. It wasn’t just a contract. It was the beginning of a storm.

And she had just agreed to stand in the middle of it