Chapter 2

Amber scoffed inwardly. All men were the same. Even Dave, rumored to be gay, wanted to see her naked.

She gripped her wine glass, her hands trembling. The chill of the crystal was nothing compared to the cold aura emanating from the man before her. Dave Oliver sat with his legs crossed, looking every bit the powerful sovereign on his leather throne.

"I can give you exactly what Jeff offered. On one condition: you dance for me," Dave said, his voice devoid of expression.

Amber fell silent for a moment. At the very least, dancing for Dave alone was far better than being a spectacle for a leering crowd.

She stood up immediately, bracing herself to undress. Dave remained reclined on the sofa, watching her every move with a flat, clinical gaze. Amber felt a flicker of confusion. Why did he show no sign of interest, even as she stood nearly bare? Oh, she had forgotten—Dave supposedly had no taste for women.

"Put your clothes back on!" Dave barked just as Amber reached for the clasp of her bra.

Startled, Amber scrambled to dress herself. She sat back down across from Dave, who was now massaging his temples as if nursing a headache.

"One million pounds," Dave’s voice broke the silence, heavy and authoritative. "It’s a pittance to me, but a mountain impossible for you to climb, isn’t it?"

Amber looked down, staring at her reflection in the dark red liquid. "I will pay you back in installments, Mr. Oliver. Just give me time—"

"Time is the one thing your father doesn't have, Amber," Dave cut her off sharply. "Next week, your family's final assets will be seized. And your father? Without the best medical care, that stroke will finish him before he even sees the inside of a prison cell."

"Then what do you want?" she whispered in despair. "Why bring me here if you don't intend to help me?"

Dave set his glass on the marble table. He leaned forward, pinning her with an unreadable gaze.

"Marry me, Amber. Become Mrs. Oliver, and every debt will be cleared overnight. Your father will receive the finest care in London, and your name will be restored."

Amber gasped, her eyes widening. "Marry you? But... the rumors... everyone knows you’re... you're gay, Dave. Why would you want to marry me?"

The corner of Dave’s mouth quirked up—a ghost of a smirk. "Rumors are an efficient shield, Amber. I need a wife to repair my corporate image after the disaster of my divorce from Bella. And you? You need money. It’s the perfect business transaction."

Amber went quiet. If Dave truly preferred men, then this marriage would be safe. She wouldn't have to worry about him touching her or demanding her body. She would be a trophy wife, and in exchange, her father would live.

"Just acting in public?" she asked, needing to be sure.

"Strictly in public," Dave replied tonelessly.

Amber took a long breath, steadying her wavering heart. "Fine. I agree."

Dave stood up, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her. He reached out—not to shake her hand, but to tilt her chin up until their eyes met.

"A wise choice, Amber," he flicked his gaze over her.

In a moment, Amber felt the heat of his thumb brushing against her jawline. For a split second, she saw a strange flash in his eyes—something primal. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Dave pulled his hand back and turned his back to her.

Amber didn't realize that she had just stepped into the den of a hungry lion, one who had spent a long time hiding behind a mask of his own making.

***

"Miss, hurry. Do not keep Mr. Oliver waiting." The man sent to fetch Amber cast a cold look at the girl who was still clinging to her mother.

"I have to go, Mom. I’ll send word as soon as I can," Amber said, reluctantly breaking the embrace.

"Be careful, my child. May God protect you wherever you are." Her mother’s weathered hands framed Amber’s tear-stained face.

The car arrived at the same grand, European-style estate she had visited the night before. She had made her choice: she would accept Dave’s offer, entering his world as his bride-to-be and his secret salvation.

"Please, come in, Miss," a maid greeted her.

With hesitant steps, Amber walked into the foyer. She scanned every corner of the opulent space. Last night, the house had felt hauntingly empty, but now, in the light of day, it was bustling with staff.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sharp rhythm of footsteps echoed against the floor. Amber looked up toward the grand staircase. A man with a powerful build was descending from the second floor. He stood at least 6'1", clad in a bespoke suit. His face was breathtakingly handsome, carved with a cold, magnetic edge.

His physique surpassed that of any high-fashion model. He had a straight, sharp nose, a defined jawline, and captivating gray eyes. He was a man who could captivate any woman on earth.

"Welcome, Amber." Those gray eyes locked onto the twenty-three-year-old girl.

Frightened, Amber offered a small nod.

"Alfred, show Miss Pierce to her room," Dave commanded the head butler.

Alfred led her to the second floor. "This will be your suite, Miss."

Amber took in the room, which was dominated by elegant whites. It was nearly as large as her old bedroom before her family home was auctioned off.

"I will leave you to settle in. If you need anything, call for me or any member of the staff," Alfred said before bowing out.

Amber collapsed onto the plush mattress. She wondered what her life would be like here. Would she be treated like a personal assistant? An ornament?

She had just started to drift off when Dave appeared, jarring her awake.

"Amber Pierce, I’m not paying you to sleep. Get up. We sign the marriage contract today."