Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Clara’s POV 

I smoothed down the front of my tailored blazer, my fingers trembling slightly before I caught myself and forced them still.

Stepping back from Harry, I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear and drew a steadying breath.

"I was merely pressing our lips together so the photographers outside would capture the angle," I said, keeping my tone crisp, formal, and strictly professional. "Why on earth did you make it a real kiss?"

Harry leaned back against the plush velvet sofa of the private suite, unbuttoning the top button of his collar with effortless, irritating composure.

His dark eyes held a faint spark of amusement.

"To make it convincing, Miss Russell. If we’re playing a game for the tabloids, we might as well do it right."

"Convincing?" I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Or were you just taking advantage of the situation so you’d have fresh ammunition to mock me with later? 

“Let's not pretend we're friends, Harry. If there were an open pit in front of me, you wouldn't just stay silent. You would push me in, record the fall, and sell the footage to the highest bidder."

Harry raised a single, dark eyebrow. "I should probably feel insulted, but you know me far too well."

"I am thoroughly unimpressed, but yes, I do," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. "Which means I am fully aware of your general disdain for me."

"Then you must also know," Harry said, picking up a financial magazine from the glass coffee table and flipping it open casually, "that under no circumstances would I ever fulfill your supposed dream of becoming my wife."

A chill ran down my spine. Hearing him say it aloud brought a sudden, unwelcome wave of goosebumps.

Becoming this devil’s wife?

It wasn't a dream I had ever entertained, until my desperate circumstances forced my hand.

Harry set the magazine down, his sharp gaze fixing entirely on me.

"So, what was that stunt out there? A new prank? Or have you suddenly decided to try your hand at entertainment industry drama?"

"I am entirely serious," I said, ignoring his jabs as I sat down opposite him. I met his eyes without flinching. "Marry me. For six months."

Harry tilted his head, studying me with quiet scrutiny. "And why, exactly, would I agree to marry you for six months?"

"Because you need a catalyst," I said calmly. "It's no secret in our circle that you've been in love with Thea Marcus, your grandfather’s executive assistant. But despite your standing, she has kept you at arm's length for years."

Harry’s posture stiffened slightly. A subtle shift in his expression that told me I had hit a nerve.

"Thea cares for you," I continued, tapping my fingers lightly against my knee. "But she comes from a modest background. She feels the weight of the gap between your worlds, which is why she constantly restrains herself from stepping forward."

"And how does a fake marriage to you bridge that gap?" Harry asked, his voice dropping low and deliberate.

I picked up a crystal glass of water from the table and took a measured sip to cool my dry throat.

"Right now, she feels safe. She believes you will always be there waiting for her, so there’s no urgency. 

“But if you marry someone else, especially someone in your social realm, she will face the very real threat of losing you forever. When we divorce in six months, she won't risk letting you slip away a second time."

Harry let out a quiet, reflective sound and rested his chin on his hand. "An interesting theory. And what is in this arrangement for you?"

"My grandfather's estate," I stated directly. "The trust clause requires me to be legally married before my twenty-sixth birthday to access my inheritance and secure my seat on the board. I need a husband, and I need one now."

Harry looked at me deeply, the silence stretching taut between us. 

"You've thought this through. But tell me, Miss Russell... have you forgotten that until very recently, you were dating my brother?"

My grip tightened around my glass. The room suddenly felt very quiet.

"Julian and I broke up," I said softly after a long pause, offering no further explanation about the betrayal that had shattered things between us.

"He is still my brother," Harry pointed out, his tone unreadable. "Before coming to me with this absurd proposal, did you really think I would risk damaging my relationship with him over his ex-girlfriend?"

I set my glass back on the table with a firm click, crossed my legs, and met his heavy gaze head-on. 

"I considered it. But I also know you and Julian have separate business holdings and a distant relationship at best. More importantly, I’m not backing down, because you are my best option."

"Why?"

"Because we despise each other," I said, a tight smile touching my lips. "You can't stand my presence, and I hate your guts. Which makes you perfect. 

“There will be no emotional complications, no misunderstandings, and no romantic expectations. 

“We can stay completely out of each other's hair for six months, fulfill our respective goals, and walk away clean."

Before I could finish my thought, Harry abruptly rose to his feet.

He turned on his heel and began walking toward the suite's exit without saying a word.

My smile faltered. Is he really just walking out? Is he turning me down?

At the doorway, Harry paused and looked back over his shoulder.

"Tomorrow morning. Ten o'clock sharp. City Hall," he said smoothly.

I blinked, standing up quickly. "You're agreeing to it?"

The corner of his lips lifted into a slight, devastatingly handsome smile that carried a hint of dangerous charm. 

"Since you're so eager to become my wife, Miss Russell, I would hate to keep you waiting."

I maintained a pleasant smile even as a vein throbbed near my temple. That arrogant jerk...

Still, I forced myself to stay composed. I had fully expected Harry to give me absolute hell before even considering the idea. 

The fact that he was agreeing so easily was a victory I couldn't afford to ruin by losing my temper.

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The Next Day

Bright morning sunlight filtered through the small gap in my heavy velvet curtains, warming my face as I lay in bed.

I groaned softly, pulling the blanket over my head to block out the glare and drift back to sleep.

Ring! Ring!

The sharp, insistent chime of my front doorbell echoed through the apartment, shattering the morning quiet.

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