Chapter 6

Xavier’s POV

I stepped out of that dump of a hotel room with the heavy folder tucked under my arm like a trophy.

The hallway smelled like weed and regret a stark contrast to the clean luxury of my office but I didn’t care. I had the signature I needed. I had my head start on Nolan.

I called Sarah as I made my way down the creaking stairs. “Have the driver pull around front,” I said. “And tell legal to draft the official addenda for the Vance estate buyout immediately.”

“Right away, Mr. Hart,” she said.

An hour later, I sat behind my desk, studying the woman who was now or soon would be my pretend wife. Harper looked like absolute hell. Her long blonde hair had come loose from its usual messy bun, and those emerald eyes were practically burning a hole through me.

She still clutched her bruised arms where the loan sharks had grabbed her, but she refused to look weak. I had to respect that, even as it tested my patience.

“Sit down, Harper,” I said, my voice flat.

“I’d rather stand.” Her jaw was clenched so tight I thought her teeth might crack. “Just give me the rules so I can get out of here.”

I let out a short laugh. “Fine. Have it your way. But let’s get one thing straight you don’t get to treat me like the villain here. I just saved your life. You wanted out of the gutter, and I pulled you out. Watch the attitude.”

She flinched but didn’t back down. “You used my desperation to trap me in a contract marriage. Don’t act like a saint, Xavier.” It was the second time she’d used my first name, and it still felt strange hearing it from her.

“I never claimed to be a saint,” I said, leaning forward, elbows on the desk. “This is a business deal, plain and simple. You play your part, you get paid. Handsomely.”

I slid a fresh document across the desk the terms of our arrangement.

“First, the finances.” I tapped the page. “You’ll receive a monthly allowance of five hundred thousand dollars.”

Harper’s eyes dropped to the numbers, and she gasped. “Five hundred thousand? Every month?”

“Yes. It’s pocket change to me—a lifeline to you. That allowance alone is more than enough to wipe out the three hundred thousand your father’s estate owes the bank by next week, and to secure the property. Whatever’s left is yours to spend however you like.”

She swallowed hard, anger giving way to disbelief. She’d spent years drowning in debt, working two jobs just to survive, and now I was handing her a way out of all of it.

“What’s the catch?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“The catch is that you belong to me, and to my image, for the next twelve months. You follow the contract exactly. When it ends, you walk away but not empty-handed. You won’t take anything from the Hart estate itself, but you’ll leave with a fully paid penthouse in the city, a car of your choosing, and a lump sum of five million dollars.”

She stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Five million?”

“Don’t get excited yet. You have to earn it.” I leaned back, arms crossed. “This is a fake marriage. We’ll live under the same roof to satisfy appearances and keep Nolan off my back, but in separate rooms. No physical contact, no shared bed, no romance. I don’t love you, you hate me, and that’s exactly how it stays.”

“Believe me, the last thing I want is to go anywhere near your bed,” she hissed.

“Good. Because if you start catching feelings, the deal is off.” I held her gaze. “But in public, no one can suspect a thing. Nolan is circling like a vulture, waiting for me to slip. So whenever we’re seen together, you play the devoted Mrs. Hart. Every gala, every brunch, every corporate event. You smile for the cameras, you hold my hand, and you act like I’m the center of your world.”

She looked down at the document, fingers trembling against the edge of the desk. I could see the war playing out behind her eyes she despised me for what I’d done to her, but she also knew that walking out that door meant losing everything her father had built.

“Twelve months,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Separate rooms, separate lives. Just a show for everyone else.”

“Exactly.” I tossed a pen onto the folder. “Sign the addendum, Harper.”

She snatched it, holding my gaze with pure venom as she scrawled her name at the bottom of the page and slammed the pen down.

“I hope you rot in hell, Xavier,” she said quietly.

“Probably.” I slid the signed papers into my drawer with a cold smile. “But for the next year, you’re rotting right alongside me. Welcome to the Hart family.”

The hatred in her eyes should have satisfied me. Instead, as she stormed toward the door, something unfamiliar twisted in my chest.

She paused, hand on the handle. “Twelve months,” she said coldly. “Then I’m gone.”

The door slammed behind her.