The Devil's Bargain

Elena had been in exactly one fight in her life, in sixth grade, when Brittany Morrison said her mother was probably a drug dealer because why else would she work nights? Elena had given Brittany a bloody nose and gotten suspended for three days.

She felt that same hot surge of anger now, looking at Dominic Ashford.

"I'm not a secret," she said. "I'm a person."

"A person who's trying to steal my inheritance."

"Your inheritance? I didn't even know I had a grandmother until yesterday."

"Convenient."

Howard cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should review the terms—"

"I know the terms." Dominic didn't look at the lawyer. He kept his eyes on Elena like she was a puzzle he was solving, like a target he was acquiring. "Marry for a year or lose everything. Victoria's last game."

"Game?"

"My grandmother didn't do anything without a reason. This is a test." He leaned back in his chair, and Elena noticed his hands. They were clenched on the armrests. White-knuckled. "She wants to see what we'll do."

"Well, I'll tell you what I won't do," Elena said. "I won't marry a stranger for money."

"Really?" Dominic's smile was sharp. "Howard, what's the address of Ms. Castellano's mother's apartment?"

Elena's blood went cold.

"Dominic," Howard said quietly. "That's not—"

"Twelve Oak Street, Millbrook, Vermont." Dominic's eyes never left Elena's face. "Rosa Castellano. Fifty-two. Works as a night nurse at Millbrook General. Took out a second mortgage three years ago. Currently fourteen thousand dollars behind on payments."

"How do you—"

"I know everything about you, Elena. I've known about you for exactly eighteen hours, and in that time, I've learned that your mother is drowning in debt, your town is dying because the mill closed, and you're one bad month away from losing everything." He tilted his head. "So let's not pretend you're going to walk away from three billion dollars out of pride."

Elena's hands shook. She put them in her lap so he wouldn't see.

"You're threatening my mother."

"I'm stating facts."

"Dominic," Howard said again, firmer this time. "Ms. Castellano is entitled to time to consider—"

"How much time?" Dominic asked. "We have thirty days to get married, or we both lose everything. That's three days gone already. So let's skip the part where we pretend the situation is a choice and get to negotiations."

Elena stood up. Her chair scraped against the floor.

"I'm not negotiating with you. I'm leaving."

She made it to the door before Dominic spoke again.

"Your father wanted you to have this."

She stopped. Her hand on the doorknob.

"Marcus left letters," Dominic said, quieter now. "Dozens of them. He wrote letters to you and my grandmother, explaining his reasons for leaving and staying away. Victoria kept them all. They're part of the estate."

Elena turned around slowly.

Dominic was standing now too. The anger had shifted into something else. Something more dangerous.

"He wrote to you every year," Dominic continued. "On your birthday. But Victoria intercepted them. She never sent them. She was punishing him for leaving."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need you to understand what's at stake. This isn't just money. This is your father's legacy: his shares in the company. His proof that you existed. That you mattered to him." Dominic moved closer, and Elena forced herself not to back away. "Victoria is giving you a choice. Take what's yours, or let it disappear."

"By marrying you."

"By marrying me."

They stood three feet apart. Elena could see the exact moment he'd cut himself shaving that morning—a tiny nick on his jaw. Elena could detect the subtle and expensive scent of his cologne. Could see that his eyes weren't completely black. They were dark brown with flecks of amber.

She hated that she noticed.

"Why do you want this so badly?" she asked. "You're already rich."

Something flickered across his face. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're an asshole who threatens people's mothers."

"I stated a fact. Your mother is in debt. I didn't create that situation."

"But you'll exploit it."

He didn't deny it.

Elena looked at Howard. "If I say no, what happens to the money?"

"It goes to the secondary beneficiary."

"Who is?"

Howard hesitated.

"Tell her," Dominic said flatly.

"A foundation," Howard said. "The Victoria Ashford Foundation for Excellence in Business. It's a scholarship fund."

"So the money goes to help people get business degrees," Elena said. "That doesn't sound terrible."

"The foundation's board is controlled by Dominic," Howard added. "Effectively, the money stays with the Ashford family."

Elena looked at Dominic. "You set this up."

"Victoria set the situation up. I just made sure I was the contingency plan."

"Of course you did."

"What did you expect?" His voice now carried an edge. "You show up out of nowhere, claiming to be family, and I'm supposed to just hand over everything my grandmother built? Everything I've spent fifteen years expanding?"

"I didn't claim anything. I got a letter."

"And now you have a choice. Marry me for one year, fulfill the will's requirements, and we split the inheritance sixty-forty."

"Sixty-forty?"

"Sixty for you, forty for me. I'm being generous."

Elena laughed. It sounded broken. "You're being generous by demanding I marry you and only taking forty percent of what's apparently mine?"

"What's yours?" Dominic moved closer. "You didn't build the Ashford Collection. You didn't wake up at five every morning for fifteen years to prove you deserved it. You didn't survive Victoria's disappointment every time you weren't perfect." His jaw clenched. "You got a letter. I got a lifetime."

For the first time since walking into this room, Elena saw past the anger.

He was scared.

This man in his expensive suit, with his threats and his calculations, was terrified of losing control.

"You think I'll take everything," she said softly.

"Won't you?"

"I don't know yet."

They stood there, neither moving, until Howard cleared his throat.

"Perhaps," he said, "we could all take a day to think—"

"No." Elena surprised herself. "No more thinking. I want to see my father's letters."

"They're part of the estate," Howard said. "You can't access them until—"

"Until I agree to the terms." Elena looked at Dominic. "You have them, don't you? You've already read them."

He didn't answer, which was answer enough.