005

ROSE

“Marry me and you won’t have to worry about money ever again.”

My jaw dropped. I blinked at him like he had just asked me to join a cult.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Derek said, adjusting his seat like this kind of thing happened every day.

“I think there’s something wrong with your brain,” I replied, my voice shaking between laughter and rage. “Do you just walk around offering marriage proposals to random, broke women you find crying in garages?”

He shrugged. “Only the ones who throw up in front of Teslas.”

My face burned. “Wow. So charming.”

He leaned forward. “I’m not trying to be charming, sweetheart. I’m being practical. You have a problem. I can fix it. I have a problem. You can fix it.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, crossing my arms. “Because clearly the best solution for two total strangers is holy matrimony.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “It’s not holy. It’s a deal. Nothing more.”

“A deal?” I echoed, eyes narrowing.

He pulled something out of his sleek leather bag and placed it on the seat between us.

A checkbook.

He opened it without hesitation and scribbled something with that expensive-looking pen of his. Then he tore it off and handed it to me.

I took it with shaking fingers.

Six hundred thousand dollars.

I almost dropped it.

“I don’t want your money,” I said quickly, pushing it back at him.

He didn’t take it. “That’s a lie.”

“It’s not,” I snapped. “You think you can just buy me like I’m some... some desperate girl looking for a sugar daddy?”

He leaned back, completely relaxed. “You’re not desperate?”

I clutched the check harder than I meant to. “This is insane. People don’t do this.”

“People in your world don’t,” he replied coolly. “But in mine? It’s Tuesday.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I hated that a small part of me was actually considering this. Not because I wanted to. Because I had to. My stepfather was in danger. My mother was probably crying herself to sleep. And I had nothing—no savings, no connections, no way out.

“This isn’t real,” I mumbled.

“It is,” he said. “And time’s running out.”

I stared down at the numbers again, dizzy.

“You’re crazy,” I said.

“Probably,” he replied, without a single smile. “But I’m your best option.”

---

*The elevator ride to the top of Rivera Tower was deathly quiet.*

I had texted Derek the next morning. *We need to talk.*

Now here I was, high above the city, surrounded by glass, steel, and silence. I was nervous, but determined. I needed answers before I even thought about signing my soul away.

When the elevator doors opened, he was already there, dressed in another perfect suit, arms crossed, face unreadable.

“You came,” he said.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I muttered, walking past him into his massive office. The place looked like it belonged in a movie. Cold, gray, expensive.

“Have a seat,” he said.

I didn’t. “Before I even think about this, I have questions.”

He sighed and leaned back on the edge of his desk. “Shoot.”

“Why me?”

“I need a wife. You need a solution. That’s enough.”

“Not an answer.”

He looked at me, his blue eyes sharp. “My name—my company—is involved in a deal that requires me to be married. It’s complicated, but I don’t have time for the romance route. I need someone quiet, clean, no scandal. Someone who won’t cling after a year.”

I blinked. “So I’m... convenient?”

“You’re temporary,” he said. “And smart enough not to ask dumb questions.”

“Oh, you’re just full of compliments,” I said, arms folded. “Do you treat all your fake brides like this?”

“You’re the first,” he replied. “So yes.”

I rolled my eyes. “What happens after the one year?”

“You leave. With your dignity. And enough money to never worry again.”

“And what do you get?”

He gave me a thin smile. “My empire. My freedom. And the illusion that I’m capable of settling down.”

That last part almost sounded sad. Almost.

“And if I say no?”

“Then you go back to your cheap apartment and wait for the loan sharks to mail you your stepfather’s fingers.”

I flinched. He didn’t.

“You’re disgusting,” I whispered.

“I’m honest,” he said. “And I keep my promises.”

I paused. My heart was racing, and I felt sick. But what choice did I really have? I looked at the check again. Six hundred thousand dollars. I could save Steve. Pay off my student debt. Help my mom breathe again.

“I have conditions,” I said finally.

He tilted his head. “Go on.”

“No intimacy. No touching. No weird controlling rules. I keep my name. I keep my life.”

His expression didn’t change. “Fine.”

“I want a contract. In writing.”

“You’ll get one.”

“And if you break any of my rules—”

“Then you walk. With the full payment.” He said it like he didn’t care. Like money meant nothing to him.

“Why do I feel like I’m walking into a trap?” I murmured.

“Because you are,” he said with a smirk. “But at least you’ll be rich inside it.”

I hated him.

And I hated myself more for saying the next words.

“When do we start?”

---

*Two days later, I was sitting in a marble conference room with a cold glass of water and a lawyer staring at me through tiny glasses.*

Derek sat at the head of the table, calm as ever, flipping through documents like it was just another Monday.

The lawyer explained the terms. One year. Public appearances. Fake affection. No legal claim to Rivera property after the contract ends. A prenup thick enough to stop a bullet.

I read it twice. I didn’t understand all the big words, but I understood the meaning.

This wasn’t marriage. This was business.

I signed.

Derek didn’t even flinch. He signed his name and leaned over the table.

“Welcome to the family, Mrs. Rivera.”

I stared at him.

“You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” I muttered.

“You’ll survive,” he replied, standing.

His cologne hit me like static. Sharp, cold, expensive. Everything he was.

As he walked away, he called over his shoulder.

“Wedding’s in 48 hours. Don’t be late. I hate waiting.”