Chapter 2 — Terms

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke about business.” He tapped the envelope once.

“Eighteen months. In exchange, what’s inside belongs to you.” I stared at him for a long second before reaching for it.

“Before you open it,” he said quietly, “understand that once you do, I’ll need your answer tonight.”

I should’ve left but instead, I opened the envelope.

The number inside made the first cheque look small.

I slowly lowered the paper and looked back at Drake Javier. Is he that serious?!

Drake Javier didn’t touch his food right away. He just watched me reread the number in the contract like my brain refused to process it the first time.

Five million dollars. For a second, I honestly thought I was hallucinating.

“Five million dollars,” I repeated slowly.

“Yes.”

“For eighteen months.”

“Yes.”

I looked up at him. “For marriage.”

“A contractual arrangement with the legal structure of marriage,” he corrected calmly. “There are distinctions.”

I pulled out the second page beneath the payment amount and started reading properly. Most of it was packed with legal terms, but the important parts stood out immediately. A legally binding marriage lasting eighteen months.

We would live together, attend public events as a couple, no outside relationships during the duration of the agreement.

I frowned at that line.

“No outside romantic entanglements,” I read aloud. “That applies to both of us?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the arrangement needs to look real.”

I lowered the paper slowly. “You’re a billionaire, you could hire an actress for this. Hell, you could probably find an actual woman willing to marry you for free. Why me?”

He finally picked up his wine glass, completely calm. “Because I need someone who won’t fall in love with me.”

The answer hit harder than I expected.

Not because it sounded arrogant. Weirdly, it didn’t. He said it like a fact, simple and emotionless.

“I need someone motivated entirely by the financial benefit,” he continued. “Someone practical enough not to confuse the arrangement for something emotional.”

“And you think that’s me?”

“I know your photography business has been operating at a loss for nearly two years,” he said smoothly. “Your savings account currently has eleven thousand dollars in it. Your student debt is over sixty thousand, and you’re behind on payments.”

My stomach tightened.

“You investigated me.”

“I vetted you.”

“That’s creepy.”

“I’m just being careful.”

I crossed my arms tightly, trying not to look shaken even though I absolutely was. “You still haven’t explained why you need a wife.”

For the first time that night, he paused before answering.

“My grandfather left controlling interest of Javier Group in a trust,” he said. “There’s a condition attached to it. If I reach thirty-five unmarried, the control transfers to a board-appointed trustee.”

I blinked. “You’re serious?”

“I turn thirty-five in twenty months.”

I stared at him for a long second. “So this entire marriage is about corporate control.”

“Yes.”

“That’s insane.”

“One could argue my father intended it that way.”

Something cold passed through his expression before disappearing just as quickly.

“The arrangement itself is simple,” he continued. “You live in my house, attend necessary public functions, and maintain appearances. In return, you will receive the agreed payment, access to my professional network, and resources that could significantly advance your career.”

I looked down at the contract again.

Five million dollars were enough money to erase every problem I’d spent years drowning in.

“What’s the living situation exactly?” I asked carefully.

“I own a fourteen-room penthouse. You would have your own private suite.”

“And you travel a lot?”

“Frequently.”

I hesitated before forcing out the next question.

“Does this arrangement include… physical expectations?”

His eyes held mine steadily.

“The contract requires nothing physical.”

“That’s not exactly a no.”

“No,” he agreed evenly. “It’s not.”

Heat crept up my neck before I looked away.

I hated that I noticed how attractive he was. I Hated that his calmness made him even more dangerous somehow.

I should’ve walked out right then. Instead, I said, “I need my lawyer to review this.”

“Of course.”

“My lawyer,” I clarified quickly. “Not yours.”

A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Naturally.”

I stood from the table, and he stood immediately after me. Up close, he felt even larger somehow. Not just tall, but overwhelming. Like the room shifted around him without permission.

“I’ll contact you,” I said.

“I'll look forward to it.”

I turned before my brain could betray me further and walked toward the elevator. My heartbeat was completely out of control by the time the doors closed.

The second I was alone, I pressed both palms against the cool mirrored wall and stared at my reflection.

I should've say no. I absolutely should but how can I refuse if the price of it was enough to solve everything?

My phone buzzed before I even reached the lobby.

The contract will arrive in your email within an hour. Goodnight, Ms. Sinclair. — D.J

I stared at the message for a long moment before replying.

Goodnight, Mr. Javier.

Then, before I could overthink it, I added another text.

You’ll have my answer in forty-eight hours, not seventy-two.

His reply came instantly..

I slipped my phone back into my purse and stepped out into the freezing Manhattan night.

The city moved around me like nothing had changed, but everything had.

Three blocks later, I realized I hadn’t touched my dinner.

I was halfway to the subway when my phone rang. It was him again, what does he need this time?

I nearly dropped it answering.

“Mr. Javier.”

“One thing I forgot to mention,” he said quietly.

His voice sounded different over the phone. Lower. Closer.

“The NDA protects both parties. If you decide against the arrangement, you still keep the hundred thousand dollars.”

I stopped walking. “You’d let me keep it anyway?”

“I told you the payment was a demonstration of intent.”

The line went quiet for a second. I could faintly hear the city behind him. The traffic noise, the sound of the wind, he was probably still standing beside that massive window.

“Goodnight, Ms. Sinclair,” he said again.