Chapter 3

J U L I A N

I stared at the woman in the waiter's uniform, trying to place her face.

There was something familiar about her, the sharp green eyes, the way she held herself with perfect posture despite clearly being nervous.

Then it clicked.

Elara Vance.

Charles Vance's granddaughter. Richard Vance's daughter.

The enemy's precious princess, standing in front of me in a waiter's uniform, a failed attempt at disguising herself, asking for a business meeting.

This should be interesting.

"Dec, give us a moment," I said to my best friend without taking my eyes off her.

"Mate, are you sure—" Dec started, but I cut him off.

"I'm sure."

Dec looked between us, shrugged, and walked away, but not before muttering something about me being an idiot.

"Follow me," I said to Elara, leading her toward the back of the gallery where there was a private viewing room, it was empty, quiet and away from prying eyes.

I opened the door and gestured for her to enter first, she hesitated for just a second before walking in, her shoulders straight, her chin up.

Brave, considering she was walking into a private room with a man her family considered an enemy.

I closed the door behind us and leaned against it, crossing my arms.

"You have ten minutes, Ms. Vance. I suggest you use them wisely."

Her eyes widened slightly. "You know who I am." She asked.

"Of course I know who you are. The question is, what are you doing serving champagne at a gallery opening, in a failed attempt of a disguise when you should be planning your wedding to Senator Blackwell?"

She flinched at the senator's name.

Interesting.

"That's actually why I'm here," she said, her voice steadier than I actually  expected. "I need your help." She added.

"My help?" I couldn't stop the slight smirk. "Why would a Vance need help from a Hartmann?"

"Because you're the only person in Manhattan powerful enough to stand up to my father," she said simply. "And because you hate him, which means you might actually say yes to what I'm about to propose."

Direct. I liked that.

"I'm listening," I said.

She took a deep breath. "I want you to marry me."

Silence filled the room. I stared at her, wondering if I had heard her correctly.

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to marry me," she repeated, her voice stronger now. "A contract marriage. One year. Purely business. I get protection from an unwanted marriage to Senator Blackwell, you get... whatever you want. Revenge against my family, a convenient wife for business functions, I don't know. We can negotiate the terms."

I should laugh, should throw her out, because this was insane.

Instead, I found myself asking, "Why me?"

"I already told you. You're powerful enough to protect me from my father, and you hate him enough to actually do it."

"There are other powerful men in Manhattan who aren't your family's sworn enemy."

"But none of them would benefit from humiliating my father the way you would," she said, and there was something sharp in her eyes now.

"Let's be honest, Mr. Hartmann. The chance to marry Richard Vance's daughter right out from under Senator Blackwell's nose? That's the kind of revenge you can't buy." She said and trust me, she was right.

The thought of Richard Vance's face when he found out his precious daughter had married a Hartmann instead of his chosen senator... it was tempting, very tempting.

"What's in it for you, really?" I asked. "Because I don't believe you're doing this just to escape an arranged marriage, there are easier ways and other alternatives."

Her jaw tightened. "The senator's first two wives died under suspicious circumstances. I'd rather not become wife number three."

Ah.

There it was.

The real reason.

I studied her carefully. She was terrified, I could see it in the slight tremor of her hands, the way her breathing was just a bit too fast, but she was also determined.

She was also desperate.

Desperate enough to walk into a gallery in disguise and propose marriage to a stranger.

To her family's enemy.

"You've thought this through?" I asked.

"As much as I could in three days," she admitted.

"Three days," I repeated. "You've known about the senator's wives for three days and you're already here proposing marriage to me? That's either very brave or very stupid." I added amused.

"Probably both," she said, and I caught the ghost of a smile.

I pushed off from the door and walked closer to her. She held her ground, even though I saw her swallow nervously.

"What makes you think I'd agree to this?" I asked. "What makes you think I want anything to do with a Vance?"

"Because seven years ago, you said something to me," she said quietly. "At Columbia. After our debate about corporate ethics. You said, 'The only thing more dangerous than a bad idea is a good idea in the wrong hands, Ms. Vance.' You remembered my name. You knew who I was even then."

I remembered.

Of course I remembered.

I'd remembered everything about that day, the way she had challenged every point I made, the intelligence in her eyes, the passion in her voice when she talked about ethical business practices. I could never forget the only woman to ever challenge me.

"That doesn't mean I want to marry you," I said, though it was a lie. The thought of having Elara Vance in my life, even temporarily, even just for revenge... it was more appealing than it should be.

"Then what do you want?" she asked.

"Name your price. What would make you say yes?"

I should say no. This was insane. A contract marriage to a Vance? My grandfather would roll over in his grave.

But the image of Richard Vance's face when he found out... the humiliation, the rage, the utter helplessness...

And more than that, the woman standing in front of me, brave and desperate and brilliant, asking me to save her from a monster.

"One year," I said. "Contract marriage, like you said, we'll work out the specific terms with lawyers."

Her eyes widened. "You're saying yes?"

"I'm saying I'm considering it. But I have conditions."

"What conditions?" She asked her voice falling a little.

"We do this properly. Legal contract, ironclad terms, everything documented, no room for either of us to back out or claim fraud later."

"Agreed," she said immediately.

"You attend business functions with me as my wife, play the part convincingly."

"Of course." She nodded.

"And I want to know everything about why you're really doing this. Not just the senator's dead wives. Everything." She hesitated at that.

"Those are my terms," I said. "Full transparency, or no deal."

She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded again. "Okay. Full transparency."

"Good. We'll meet in three days. My lawyer's office, come prepared with your own terms and conditions."

"Three days," she repeated. "Where?"

I pulled out my phone, typed quickly, and showed her the address and picture of my lawyer. "My lawyer is Declan Rivers. He's discreet."

"The British man from earlier?" She asked.

"The same. Don't be late, Ms. Vance."

"I won't be." She turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Mr. Hartmann?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you really say yes?"

I could tell her the truth—that I'd been half in love with her since that debate seven years ago, that the chance to have her in my life for even one year was worth any price, but I wasn't ready to admit that. Not to her. Maybe not even to myself.

"Your family destroyed mine," I said instead. "This seems... poetic."

She nodded slowly, like she'd expected that answer. "Three days, then."

"Three days."

She left, closing the door softly behind her.

I stood there in the empty room, wondering what the hell I'd just agreed to.

My phone buzzed, a text from Dec, Please tell me you didn't just do something monumentally stupid.

I typed back,

Define stupid.

You know exactly what I mean. That was Elara Vance. VANCE. As in, your family's sworn enemy, as in, the granddaughter of the man who destroyed your grandfather.

I'm aware of who she is.

And?

And I'm meeting her in three days to discuss a business proposition.

Julian. Mate. What kind of business proposition?

I didn't answer.

I pocketed my phone and headed back to the gallery, my mind already racing through the implications of what I'd just agreed to.

A contract marriage to Elara Vance.

One year.

This was either the smartest move I had ever made or the biggest mistake of my life.

Probably both.