CHAPTER TWO: FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS

I froze with my hand on the doorknob.

Seriously? Wasn't getting out of this room embarrassing enough?

I turned slowly. The man was sitting up in bed, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. 

His dark hair was messy, and the sheet rested loosely around his waist. Somehow, he still looked annoyingly handsome!

"My name doesn't matter," I said.

One eyebrow lifted. "Doesn't it?"

"No. We had one night. That's all."

He studied me for a moment. "Do you regret it?"

The question caught me off guard.

Did I?

I wasn't sure what I felt. Embarrassment, definitely. Confusion, too. And a little anger at myself for putting myself in a situation I hadn't thought through properly.

"I don't think discussing it will change anything," I replied.

"That wasn't what I asked."

"Well, I'm not sure what you expect me to say."

"The truth would be a start."

I tightened my grip on my bag. "Fine. Whatever happened last night stays here. I have a life to get back to, and I'm sure you do, too."

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he didn't.

Instead, he nodded toward the door. "Then I won't keep you."

That was it?

No argument. No demand for my number. No arrogant speech about how unforgettable he was.

Somehow, his calmness irritated me more than an argument would have.

"Great," I muttered.

I walked out before I could make things more awkward.

The elevator ride felt endless. By the time I reached the street, I was already telling myself to forget his face, his voice, and the expensive watch I'd seen beside his bed.

It had been one night. A stupid, complicated night.

I wasn't going to see him again.

***

Third person POV 

Ryan Morgan had never been a man who enjoyed being cornered.

Unfortunately, his grandfather had made a habit of putting him in exactly that position.

"The board expects stability," his grandfather said, standing beside the tall windows of his private office. "And I expect you to stop treating marriage as though it's some terrible inconvenience."

Ryan leaned back in his chair. "I'm not discussing my personal life with the board."

"Then perhaps you should consider how much of your personal life depends on this family."

There it was. The threat, dressed up as advice.

Ryan's jaw tightened.

His grandfather had spent years preparing him to take over Morgan Group, the design empire that had made their family one of the wealthiest in New York. Ryan had worked for his position, even if his last name had opened doors along the way.

Now, apparently, none of that mattered.

"Marry within the required timeframe," his grandfather continued, "or I'll reconsider who deserves to inherit this company."

"You're threatening to hand everything to Brian?"

"I'm threatening to give the position to someone who understands responsibility."

Ryan let out a humorless laugh. "Brian understands exactly one thing. How to smile while waiting for someone else to fail."

"Then don't give him the opportunity."

His grandfather ended the conversation by turning back to his desk.

Ryan left the office furious.

He wasn't about to lose the company to his cousin because his grandfather had decided that a wedding ring was proof of maturity. But arguing wouldn't change anything. His grandfather had made up his mind, and the deadline was real.

Ryan needed a solution.

A marriage of convenience would satisfy the old man's demands without forcing Ryan into a relationship he had no interest in maintaining. A clear agreement, a fixed duration, and a generous payment. Simple.

Everyone involved would know where they stood.

As he reached for his phone, an image of the woman from the previous night came to mind.

Nicole.

He remembered her sharp tongue and the way she'd looked at him as if his expensive clothes meant absolutely nothing to her. He also remembered how quickly her expression had changed when she realized she'd had too much to drink.

He didn't know much about her, but he'd heard enough to guess that money wasn't something she had in abundance.

That made her a practical choice.

Or so he thought.

Ryan opened his contacts and made a call to an investigator who handled discreet background checks for the family. It didn't take long to obtain Nicole's full name and workplace.

By the time the call ended, he'd settled on his plan.

Five hundred thousand dollars for one year of marriage.

It was a fair offer. More than fair, in his opinion.

He had no reason to believe she'd refuse.

***

Nicole’s POV 

I was halfway through my shift when I saw him again.

At first, I thought exhaustion was playing tricks on me. Then he turned from the bar, and our eyes met.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

He was wearing a dark suit this time, looking every bit as expensive as he had the night before. He didn't belong behind a bar any more than I belonged in his bedroom.

I grabbed a clean glass and focused on my work.

Maybe he'd order a drink and leave.

"Nicole Brown?"

I closed my eyes briefly.

Of course not.

"That's me," I answered, turning around. "What do you want?"

His gaze flickered over my face, perhaps surprised by my lack of enthusiasm.

"My name is Ryan Morgan."

Morgan.

I stared at him. The surname was familiar from the company's advertisements and the glossy business magazines displayed in waiting rooms. Morgan Group wasn't just some successful company. It was an empire.

And the man I'd walked away from that morning was its heir.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

"Oh," I said flatly, actually somewhat shocked. 

Something like amusement crossed his face. "Can we talk somewhere private?"

"I'm working."

"I'll wait."

He said it so casually that I nearly laughed. Men like him probably weren't used to hearing no, but that didn't mean I had to rearrange my life because he wanted a conversation.

Still, I didn't want him standing there all evening, drawing attention from my coworkers and customers.

"Five minutes," I said. "And I'm not leaving the building."

"Agreed."

I led him to a small staff room near the back. Once the door closed, I folded my arms.

"All right. Talk."

Ryan didn't waste time.

"I need a wife."

I blinked, actually laughed. 

Then I blinked again.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"My grandfather expects me to get married. If I don't, I risk losing my inheritance and my position in the company."

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline.

There wasn't one.

"And you came to me because...?"

"Because I believe we can help each other."

He reached into his jacket and placed a document on the table between us.

"I'm offering you a one-year contract marriage. You'll receive five hundred thousand dollars in exchange for fulfilling the role of my wife for that period."

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

Five hundred thousand dollars.

My mind immediately jumped to hospital bills, overdue payments, and the medication Mom needed. I could almost see what that amount would change. No more choosing which bill to pay first. No more pretending I wasn't terrified every time the hospital called.

But the thought lasted only a second before anger pushed through it.

"You're serious."

"Completely."

"And you think you can just walk in here and buy a wife?"

"I'm offering an arrangement that benefits us both. You'll receive financial security. I'll satisfy my grandfather's requirements. There won't be any expectation of romance."

He sounded as if he were explaining a business contract to someone who'd never seen one.

I looked down at the document, then back at him.

"Did you choose me because you think I'm desperate?"

His expression tightened. "I chose you because I believe you're practical enough to understand the benefits."

"That's a nice way of saying desperate."

"That's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant."

He exhaled, clearly losing patience. "Nicole, five hundred thousand dollars is a considerable amount of money. You'd be paid for an arrangement with clear terms and a definite end date. I don't see why you're making this personal."

I laughed, but there was nothing funny about it.

"Because you're talking about my life like it's another deal you need to close."

"I'm giving you a choice."

"No. You're assuming my problems make me easy to control."

"That's unfair."

"Is it?"

My mother's face flashed through my mind. The hospital bed. Her tired smile. The way she always asked whether I'd eaten before telling me how bad her day had been.

God, I needed that money.

The truth hurt more than I wanted to admit.

But needing it didn't mean I had to let a stranger decide what I was worth.

I pushed the document back toward him.

"I'm not marrying you."

Ryan stared at the paper as though it had personally offended him.

"You haven't even considered the offer."

"I have. My answer is no."

"You're turning down half a million dollars."

"And you're learning that money doesn't make every decision for someone else."

I opened the door.

"Nicole… "

"I have work to do, Mr. Morgan."

I walked out before he could say anything else.

My hands were shaking, but I kept moving. I couldn't afford to stand there wondering whether I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life.

***

Third Person POV 

Ryan remained in the staff room, staring at the rejected contract.

"Everyone has a price," he muttered.

Then his phone vibrated.

A message from his grandfather appeared on the screen.

The deadline has been moved forward. You have less time than I originally gave you.

Ryan's expression hardened.

He'd just lost the one option he'd thought he could control.

And now he had even less time to find another.