Chapter 2

I walked into Richards Industries still wearing the black dress from my father's funeral. My heels clicked against the marble floor and I did not slow down to look at the art or the people in expensive suits who turned to stare. I walked straight to the reception desk.

"I need to see Aziel Richards," I said.

The receptionist looked up, her eyes flicking over my tear swollen face and rumpled dress. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but I am not leaving until I see him."

She picked up her phone and murmured something into the receiver. I stood there with my hands clasped tightly in front of me, refusing to sit down. A man in a gray suit walked past and gave me a look that lingered too long. I met his gaze and he quickly looked away.

Twenty minutes passed but I did not move.

Finally, the elevator doors opened and a stern woman with sharp eyes and silver hair stepped out. I recognized her immediately. Patricia had been Aziel's assistant five years ago, back when I was naive enough to believe he loved me. She had always been kind to me then, offering me coffee and quiet smiles whenever I waited in his office.

She walked toward me, and her expression flickered with recognition. Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, something that looked like pity softened her face.

"Ms. Grant," she said, her voice quieter than I remembered. "It has been a long time."

"It has," I said. "I need to see him, Patricia."

She studied me for a moment, taking in the funeral dress and the redness around my eyes. She did not ask questions. She simply nodded and gestured for me to follow her.

We walked to the elevator in silence. I stood beside her, watching the floor numbers climb higher and higher, and I could feel her glancing at me from the corner of her eye.

"He is in a difficult mood today," she said quietly, just before the doors opened. "I should warn you."

"I did not expect anything less."

She led me down a quiet hallway and stopped in front of a heavy mahogany door. She opened it, gave me one last look that seemed to say be careful, and closed it behind me with a soft click.

The office was enormous, with floor to ceiling windows that offered a view of the entire city. But I did not care about the view. I cared about the man standing by the window with his back to me, his hands clasped behind him.

I waited but he did not turn around.

"You have five minutes," he said, and his voice was smooth and deep and completely devoid of warmth. "State your business, Ria."

I flinched at the sound of my name on his lips. It was the first time he had spoken to me in five years, and he said it as though he was reading it off a file.

"My father died," I said. "His will requires me to be legally married within six months to inherit the controlling shares of Grant Industries. If I am not, the shares pass to my uncle, who intends to sell them to Arthur Kane."

He turned then and I felt the air leave my lungs. He was just as devastating as I remembered, with a sharp jaw and dark, impenetrable eyes. He looked at me the way one might look at a stain on an expensive carpet.

"And what does that have to do with me?" he asked, settling into the leather chair behind his desk. He did not offer me a seat.

"I need you to marry me," I said. "For one year. A legal arrangement and nothing more. I will pay you, I will give you access to Grant Industries resources, and at the end of the year we will dissolve the marriage quietly and cleanly."

He stared at me for a long moment. I searched his face for some flicker of emotion, some sign that the man who had once held me in his arms was still in there somewhere. There was nothing.

"No," he said.

I blinked. "I am sorry?"

"No." He picked up a pen and began to read a document on his desk. "I have no interest in marrying you, Ria. Not for money, business or any other reason. You have made your proposal and I have given you my answer. I am sure you can find someone else."

I stared at him, my blood running cold. "You cannot be serious."

"I am always serious." He did not look up from his document. "It is a character trait I am rather proud of."

"I need your help, Aziel. I have no one else."

"That is not my problem."

"My father believed in you. He wrote about you in his letter."

He set his pen down and looked at me then, and his eyes were as cold as a winter sea. "Your father is dead, Ria. Whatever he believed died with him."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt my knees weaken and my eyes sting with tears I refused to shed. I would not cry in front of him. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

"You are still the same person you were five years ago," I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.

"You do not care about anyone but yourself. You left me without a word, you broke my heart without a second thought, and now you will not even help me when I am desperate. When I have swallowed my pride and come to you with nothing but a request for your help." I turned and walked toward the door. "I do not know why I thought you would be any different."

I was halfway across the room when his voice stopped me.

"Ria."

I paused but did not turn around. "What?"

"You are wrong," he said quietly.

I waited for him to explain, to offer some apology or explanation, but the silence stretched on until it became clear he had said all he intended to say. I walked out and slammed the door behind me.

Patricia was waiting in the hallway. She did not say a word. She simply fell into step beside me and walked me to the elevator. The doors closed, and I leaned against the mirrored wall, my body shaking. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, but the tears kept coming.

Patricia reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. She handed it to me without a word.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She nodded, and when the elevator doors opened onto the lobby, she placed a gentle hand on my arm. "He is not the same man he was five years ago, Ms. Grant," she said quietly. "I am not sure he is any man at all."

I did not know what to say to that, so I simply nodded and walked away.

I pushed through the revolving doors and out into the gray afternoon. Nina's car was waiting by the curb, and the moment I saw her, the tears came again.

I climbed into the passenger seat, and Nina took one look at my face before pulling me into a tight embrace. "He said no," she said, and it was not a question.

"He was cruel," I whispered. "He was so cruel, Nina."

"I know," she said, stroking my hair. "I know. But we will find another way. We always do."

I pulled back and looked at her, my eyes red and swollen. "My father thought he was the only one who could help me. But I would rather face Arthur Kane alone than beg that man for anything ever again."

Nina nodded. "Then we will find someone else. Someone better."

I leaned my head against the window and watched the city blur past as she drove me home. I did not know who I was going to find or how I was going to save my father's company, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty. I would never ask Aziel Richards for help again.

I was wrong, of course but I did not know that yet.