Contract Marriage

~~Emilia POV~~

I woke up early the next morning to Mia yanking the duvet off my bed.

"Get up, Emy!" she barked, throwing a fitted emerald-green silk dress onto my chest. "You’re meeting Brody Callahan at his corporate headquarters in one hour!"

"Mia, this is crazy…" I groaned, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

"Gerald just posted photos of his engagement party with Benjamin!" Mia yelled, thrusting her phone in my face. "Look at them! They're drinking champagne, celebrating on ‘your’ blood while your dad sits in a hospital bed! Get dressed and make the deal!"

Rage instantly burned away my hesitation. I grabbed the dress.

××××

An hour later, I was standing inside the towering skyscraper of Callahan Enterprises. After passing through three levels of armed private security, I was escorted into the massive top-floor executive suite.

Brody sat behind a massive black marble desk, looking effortlessly dominant in a bespoke dark suit. He looked up, his silver eyes stunning as always.

"Well, well," Brody murmured, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "The bathroom intruder returns, to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Lambert?"

I didn't waste time on pleasantries, I marched straight up to his desk, slamming my medical file onto the polished surface.

"I have a business proposal," I said, my voice steady.

"I'm listening."

"Gerald Whitmore, formerly my boyfriend, now my ex, stole my kidney donation, altered hospital records to give the credit to his male lover, and framed me as an extortionist in the national press," I said, leaning forward. "He is using my father's cancer therapy to force my silence."

Brody's silver eyes narrowed slightly, a terrifying, suffocating pressure filling the room. "The Whitmores... arrogant mid-tier corporate bugs, go on."

"I noticed you have a problem with your girlfriend, Serena," I continued quickly. "If I remember correctly, she's fabricating a pregnancy scandal to ruin your stock prices and force a settlement."

Brody nodded.

"And you need a respectable, fierce, believable woman to publicly shut her down.”

I looked him straight in the eye, dropping all fear.

"Make me your fake fiancée. I'll play the devoted woman by your side, destroy Serena's credibility, and give you total peace of mind. In exchange, you transfer my father to your private medical facility, protect him with your legal team, and give me the backing to crush Gerald Whitmore into dust."

Brody stared at me in total silence for three agonizing seconds, then, he threw his head back and let out a deep, rich laugh.

"You want to fake an engagement with me?" He shook his head, looking at me like I’d suddenly gone insane. "We met two days ago when you mistook me for a bathroom pervert and tried to murder me with my own paperweight, now you want the key to my empire?"

"It's a logical trade!" I insisted.

"It's reckless," he countered, standing up from his chair, his massive frame towered over me, his presence overwhelming. "I don't need a fake fiancée to deal with Serena, I have an army of lawyers. I'm not getting involved in your personal revenge story."

"I understand," I whispered, pulling my folder off his desk. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Callahan."

I turned to walk out, my chest burning with defeat.

Suddenly, the red landline on his desk burst into a harsh, ringing alarm, Brody snatched it up.

"What?"

Within seconds, his face turned deadly pale, his expression morphing into pure, unadulterated rage.

"She did what?!" Brody roared into the receiver. "Serena went live on national television with a fake ultrasound chart?! She brought the Callahan board of directors into an emergency hearing?!"

He slammed his fist down onto the marble desk with terrifying force. *CRACK!* The glass calendar tray beside his elbow shattered into pieces.

"If the board freezes my voting rights over a moral clause, I will tear her family's firm apart piece by piece!" he snarled into the phone before slamming it back onto the dock.

He stood there, chest heaving, his breathing heavy. His dark silver eyes snapped toward me as I stood frozen by the door.

Brody walked around his desk, his long, heavy strides closing the distance between us in seconds. Before I could step back, his hand shot out, taking a firm, possessive grip around my waist and pulling my body flush against his.

My breath hitched as his other hand came up, his thumb pressing firmly against my bottom lip, gripping my chin with intense power. His dark eyes burned with a dangerous, intoxicating fire.

"Tell me, Emilia..." he growled, his deep voice fanning against my skin. "Are you ready to play a very dangerous game?"

"I'm not afraid of games, Mr. Callahan," I whispered back, my pulse hammering against my throat. "I have nothing left to lose."

"Good," he growled. "Because starting right now, you belong to me in front of the world. You don't take a step, speak to the media, or breathe without my permission."

"And Gerald?" I rasped, searching his eyes.

A cruel, ruthless smile touched Brody's lips, he leaned down, his teeth lightly brushing the sensitive skin of my earlobe in a sharp, possessive bite that made my whole body shiver.

"Gerald Whitmore is a dead man walking," Brody murmured against my skin. "I will make him crawl on his knees and beg you for mercy before this week is over."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto mine. "Pack your bags, wildcat. You're moving into my penthouse today.”