CHAPTER 3:TWO MILLION REASONS TO SIGN

Amelia's POV

Blackwood Enterprises rose above Fifth Avenue like a blade of glass. I stood on the sidewalk and stared at it for a full minute before I found the courage to walk inside. I wore my best dress, which was a navy blue one I had bought at a thrift store. I had ironed it twice that morning, and I still felt like a child playing dress up.

The lobby was cold and enormous, with a ceiling so high that my footsteps echoed. A woman at the front desk looked at me over her glasses. She did not smile, and she did not say good morning.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Blackwood," I said.

"Name?"

"Amelia Hart."

Something changed in her face then. It was small, but I saw it. Her eyes moved over me from head to shoe, and her lips pressed together. She knew who I was, and she knew why I had come. I felt my cheeks burn as she picked up the phone.

A security guard escorted me to the top floor. The elevator moved so smoothly that I only knew we had arrived when the doors opened. A long hallway stretched ahead of me, lined with glass walls and silent employees. Every one of them looked up as I walked past. I kept my chin high and my eyes straight ahead.

The door at the end of the hall was made of dark wood. The guard knocked once and opened it for me. I stepped inside, and the door closed behind me with a soft click.

The office was bigger than my entire apartment. One wall was solid glass and showed the whole city spread out like a toy. A man stood in front of that window with his hands in his pockets and his back to me. He wore a black suit, and his shoulders were broad and perfectly still.

"Miss Hart," he said without turning around. "You are on time."

"You told me not to be late," I said.

He turned slowly, and I forgot how to breathe for a moment. I had seen his face in magazines, but the photographs had not prepared me for the real thing. He was tall and sharp and cold, and his eyes were the color of a winter sky. He was far too handsome for any man who looked so unkind. His gaze moved over my face without any warmth at all.

"Sit," he said.

I sat in one of the leather chairs facing his desk. He did not sit. He walked slowly across the room and stopped in front of me.

"Your father visited me three days ago," Adrian said. "He placed your photograph on my desk and told me what you were worth."

My face burned. "I did not know about it until yesterday."

"I believe you." His voice was flat. "That is the only reason you are still in this room."

"I am sorry for what he did," I said quietly.

"Do not apologize for him." His eyes sharpened. "He described you as merchandise. He listed your features as if he were selling a car. I have never wanted to throw a man out of a window more than I did that day."

I stared at him. I had expected cruelty, but I had not expected anger on my behalf. It confused me, and I did not know what to do with it.

"Then why did you ask me to come?" I said.

The door opened before he could answer. An older man walked in with silver hair and a cold, commanding face. He wore a gray suit that probably cost more than my father's entire life. Behind him came a thin man with a leather briefcase and nervous eyes.

"This is my father, Richard Blackwood," Adrian said stiffly. "And this is Jonathan Reed, our family lawyer."

Richard looked at me the way a farmer looks at a horse. His gaze lingered on my hands, my shoes, and the cheap fabric of my dress. I wanted to shrink, but I forced myself to sit up straight.

"She is smaller than her photograph," Richard said.

"Father," Adrian warned.

"I am only stating a fact." Richard sat in the chair behind the desk as if he owned the room, which perhaps he did. "Miss Hart, my son needs a wife. You need money. I believe we can help each other."

My mouth went dry. "I do not understand."

"I will explain it simply," Richard said. "Adrian will inherit this company when he marries. He has refused every suitable woman I have introduced to him. Your father's visit gave me an idea."

"I never agreed to be anyone's idea," I said.

"No," Adrian said quietly. "You did not."

He walked around the desk and stood beside his father. For the first time, he looked uncomfortable. It lasted only a second before the cold mask slid back into place.

"I will not buy you," he said. "Your father believes I came here to purchase a woman. I did not. I will offer you something different."

"What?"

"Marriage."

I laughed because I thought he was joking. The sound came out cracked and strange. Nobody else in the room laughed. Adrian simply waited until I stopped.

"It will be a contract," he said. "Jonathan will explain the terms."

The lawyer cleared his throat and opened his briefcase. His hands shook a little as he pulled out a thick stack of papers. He placed them on the desk in front of me and began to speak in a quick, nervous voice.

"The marriage will last for one year," Reed said. "During that time, Miss Hart will live in Mr. Blackwood's home and attend all public events as his wife. Mr. Blackwood will pay her father's debts in full. At the end of the year, Miss Hart will receive a settlement of two million dollars."

I stared at the number until the words blurred. Two million dollars was more money than I could imagine. It was enough to buy a house and a future and a life my father could never touch.

"There are conditions," Reed continued. "The marriage will be strictly professional. There will be separate bedrooms and no emotional involvement. Neither party may fall in love, and any breach of this rule will void the settlement."

"Fall in love," I repeated.

"It is standard language," Reed said quickly.

Adrian's eyes met mine. They were cold and steady and completely certain. "You will not have to worry about it," he said. "I have no interest in loving anyone."

"Neither do I," I said, and I surprised myself with how steady my voice sounded.

I picked up the pen. My hand shook so hard that the tip of it danced above the page. I thought about my father in the dark kitchen with his phone. I thought about the water stain on my ceiling and the notice on my door. I thought about every hotel room and every envelope and every night I had washed myself clean in the shower.

I told myself this was different. This was a contract and not a sale. Nobody would touch me, and nobody would own me. I would walk out in one year with enough money to be free.

I signed my name on the last page. The pen scratched loudly in the quiet room. When I looked up, Adrian was watching me with an expression I could not read.

"Welcome to the family, Miss Hart," Richard said coolly.

"Do not mistake this for kindness," Adrian said quietly. "I did not do this for you."

"I know," I said. "I did not do it for you either."

Something flickered in his eyes then, and it looked almost like respect. It vanished so quickly that I wondered if I had imagined it. Then he turned away and looked out at the city, and I understood that the meeting was over.