CHAPTER 5: THE CONTRACT

AMBER HART POV

My signature on that paper looked incredibly small, but it felt heavier than my two massive suitcases combined.

Kalix picked up the document, blew lightly on the ink to let it dry, and then locked it inside his desk drawer. The transition from my boss to my fake fiancé took him exactly three seconds.

"Pack your bags from the staff quarters tonight," he said, adjusting his watch as if we hadn't just flipped my entire universe upside down. "Martha will move you into the East Wing guest suite tomorrow morning at six. The press conference is at nine. Be ready."

"Wait, just like that?" I asked, my hands still gripping the edge of his mahogany desk. "Are you going to tell me what the ground rules are? Or do I just wing it in front of dozens of journalists?"

Kalix looked up, his expression deadpan. "Rule number one: you don't wing anything when it comes to Smith Industries. Rule number two: when we are in public, you look at me like you actually tolerate my existence. Rule number three: no personal questions, no real feelings, and absolutely no touching unless the cameras are on us."

"Deal," I said, backing away toward the door. "Trust me, avoiding touching you will be the easiest part of this contract."

A tiny, almost invisible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it vanished so quickly I thought I imagined it. "Get some sleep, Amber. Tomorrow, your face is going to be on every financial news network in the country."

I didn't need to be told twice. I walked out of the study and practically sprinted down to the basement quarters.

When I broke the news to Martha, her jaw practically hit the kitchen island. She stopped polishing the silverware and just stared at me, her eyes wide behind her reading glasses.

"A fake fiancée?" Martha whispered, looking around to make sure the other kitchen staff weren't listening. "Amber, are you insane? Mr. Smith is a brilliant man, but he is ruthless. If the board finds out this is a stunt to get Victoria's father off his back, they’ll ruin him—and they’ll ruin you too."

"I don't have anything left to lose, Martha," I said, folding my spare uniform and placing it neatly inside my suitcase. "A week ago, I was helping an ex-boyfriend pay off a car he used to cheat on me. Four days ago, I was down to my last four dollars. This is a million dollars. I can survive six months of pretending to love a grumpy billionaire for that."

Martha sighed, shaking her head, but she reached out and patted my shoulder. "Just be careful, dear. In that world, the knives come wrapped in velvet."

By eight AM the next morning, I realized exactly what Martha meant.

A team of three professional stylists—hired by Kalix’s public relations manager—had invaded my new guest suite at the crack of dawn. They brushed, curled, and pinned my hair into an elegant, effortless chignon. They applied makeup that made me look like I actually slept eight hours a night, and they dressed me in a tailored, cream-colored midi dress that hugged my curves perfectly without showing too much skin.

When I looked in the full-length mirror, I barely recognized myself. The tired, stressed-out diner waitress was completely gone. In her place stood a woman who looked like she belonged on the arm of a CEO.

The door to the suite opened, and Kalix stepped in. He was wearing a flawless charcoal-grey three-piece suit. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me, his dark eyes scanning me from head to toe. For a second, the coldness in his gaze wavered, replaced by a sudden, intense focus.

"You look... acceptable," he said, though his voice was slightly deeper than usual.

"Wow, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special," I replied, rolling my eyes as I grabbed the small designer clutch the stylists had left for me.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, walking with me toward the waiting limousine in the courtyard.

"Terrified," I admitted honestly, watching the tinted glass window slide up as the car pulled out of the estate gates. "But I'm good under pressure. Just tell me what the story is."

"We met six months ago at a charity gala," Kalix said, his tone purely transactional. "It was kept private because I wanted to protect your privacy from the media. Victoria was an arrangement pushed by my board, which I officially terminated last night. That's all the press needs to know. Keep your answers short, smile, and let me handle the difficult questions."

Thirty minutes later, the limousine pulled up to the back entrance of the Smith Industries headquarters. The energy in the building was frantic. Assistants with tablets were running around, security guards were barricading the hallways, and the muffled roar of a crowded auditorium could be heard through the heavy doors.

Kalix’s PR manager, Marcus, met us at the holding room. He looked like he was on his third energy drink of the morning. "Mr. Smith, the room is packed. Every major financial and entertainment outlet is here. Victoria’s father already released a statement calling this a farce, so the reporters are going to be bloodthirsty."

"Let them be," Kalix said calmly. He turned to me, extending his right arm. "Ready, Amber?"

I took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of my dress. I slipped my hand through his arm, feeling the solid, rigid muscle beneath his suit jacket. He felt like a shield, but he also felt like danger.

"Let's get this million dollars," I whispered.

The security guards threw the double doors open, and we walked out onto the stage.

The explosion of noise was instantaneous. Flashbulbs blinded me, turning the room into a chaotic blur of white light. Shouted questions bounced off the walls as dozens of reporters stood up, waving microphones and tablets in our direction.

Kalix guided me toward the podium with absolute confidence, his hand moving down to rest firmly against the small of my back. The warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of my dress was distracting, but I forced myself to keep a bright, serene smile plastered across my face.

He waited for the flashes to slow down before leaning into the microphone.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Kalix’s deep voice boomed through the speakers, instantly silencing the room. "I’ll make this brief. Last night, my legal team officially severed all upcoming joint ventures with Vance Global. Concurrently, the rumored engagement between myself and Victoria Vance is null and void."

A collective murmur gasped through the crowd.

"The reason for this is simple," Kalix continued, turning his head to look down at me with a gaze that looked so incredibly tender I almost believed it myself. "My heart has belonged to someone else for a very long time. This is Amber Hart, my fiancée. We will be handling our upcoming expansion as a private family entity."

A reporter in the front row stood up immediately, shouting over the others. "Mr. Smith! Victoria Vance claims this woman is a member of your domestic staff! Is it true that you’re marrying a maid to avoid a corporate buyout?"

The question cut through the room like a knife. My smile faltered for a fraction of a second, my fingers tightening against Kalix's arm.

Kalix didn't even flinch. He leaned closer to the microphone, his eyes narrowing at the reporter. "Amber is the woman I love. Her past, her background, and her career before she met me are irrelevant. She is the future of this family, and any insult directed at her is an insult directed at Smith Industries."

The room went dead silent. Nobody expected the cold, untouchable billionaire to defend anyone with that much intensity.

Before the reporters could recover, Kalix looked down at me, raised my hand to his lips, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against my knuckles. His eyes stayed locked on mine the entire time, sending a strange, terrifying shiver straight to my core.

"Let's go," he murmured against my skin.

He turned, keeping his arm securely around my waist as he guided me off the stage and back into the safety of the secure hallway, leaving the roaring crowd behind us.

The heavy security doors clicked shut, cutting off the noise of the press conference entirely. Marcus immediately rushed forward, checking his tablet. "Stock prices are fluctuating, but the narrative is holding. The public loves a romance story. We did it."

Kalix finally released his grip on my waist, stepping back and slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. The warm, protective fiancé disappeared instantly, replaced by the cold CEO.

"Good job, Amber," he said, his voice entirely flat. "You held your composure."

"Thanks," I said, rubbing my knuckles where his lips had just been. "Just doing my job, Mr. Smith."

Kalix nodded once, already turning toward his private elevator. "Marcus, get the board on the line. Let's see how long it takes for Victoria's father to crawl back to the negotiating table."