two

The Knight Industries building was everything I expected”sleek, modern, intimidating. All glass and steel reaching up into the gray Seattle sky like it was trying to prove something. I guess when you're worth billions, you don't have to be subtle.

"You ready for this?" Jess asked from the driver's seat. I'd begged her to come with me, at least to the lobby. Moral support and all that.

"Absolutely not," I said, checking my reflection in the mirror one more time. I'd chosen a navy blue dress, professional but not too formal. My dark hair was pulled back in a neat bun, minimal makeup. I wanted to look like I had my life together, even though everything felt like it was falling apart.

"You know, if he's a total asshole, you can just walk away," Jess said. "Your dad can't actually force you to marry someone."

I looked at her, my best friend since college, the only person who knew everything about this mess. "Can't he though? When Mom's life is literally on the line?"

She reached over and squeezed my hand. "Just... don't let them bully you, okay? You have a voice in this too."

I nodded, even though we both knew my voice didn't count for much in this situation. I grabbed my purse and stepped out into the cool afternoon air. The lobby was just as impressive as the exterior marble floors, modern art on the walls, a fountain in the center that probably cost more than my car.

"Emma Chen for Alexander Knight," I told the receptionist, a blonde woman with a smile so perfect it had to be professionally maintained.

"Of course, Ms. Chen. Top floor. Mr. Knight is expecting you."

The elevator ride felt like it took forever and no time at all. My stomach was doing flips, and I kept rehearsing what I wanted to say. I needed to be firm, confident. This was a business arrangement, and I had every right to negotiate terms.

The doors opened to reveal a sleek office space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. And there, standing with his back to me, looking out at the view, was Alexander Knight.

He was taller than I remembered. Broad shoulders, dark hair, wearing a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my rent. He didn't turn around when I stepped out of the elevator.

"Mr. Knight?" My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

He turned slowly, and I got my first real look at him. Sharp jawline, dark eyes, the kind of face that belonged on magazine covers. He was handsome, I'd give him that. But there was something cold about his expression, like he was calculating something behind those eyes.

"Emma," he said. Not a question, just a statement. "Thank you for coming."

"Did I have a choice?" The words came out more bitter than I intended.

Something flickered across his face surprise maybe? "There's always a choice."

"Is there?" I stepped further into the room, refusing to be intimidated by the space or him or any of this. "Because it feels like our fathers have already decided everything."

He studied me for a moment, then gestured to a leather couch by the window. "Would you like to sit? I asked my assistant to bring coffee, but if you prefer something else..."

"Coffee's fine." I sat down, perching on the edge like I might need to make a quick escape. He sat across from me, and I noticed he didn't immediately launch into business talk. Instead, he just looked at me, really looked, like he was seeing me for the first time.

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said finally. "Cancer is... I know what that's like."

That caught me off guard. "You do?"

"My mother died when I was sixteen. Ovarian cancer. By the time they caught it, it was too late." His voice was matter-of-fact, but there was something underneath it. Pain, maybe. 

"I'm sorry," I said softly. And I meant it. "That must have been terrible."

He nodded once, a sharp movement. "It's why I agreed to this arrangement, actually. Well, partly why. If there's a chance your mother can get the treatment she needs, I don't want to be the reason she doesn't."

I hadn't expected that. Hadn't expected him to be... human. It was easier when I could think of him as just some cold billionaire who didn't care about anyone but himself.

"Your father mentioned something about shareholders?" I said, trying to get back on track. "And needing to settle down?"

A muscle in his jaw tightened. "My personal life became a liability. There was a situation with someone I was dating who turned out to be more interested in selling stories to tabloids than anything else. The board feels I need to project a more... stable image."

"So you need a wife for your image, and I need your money for my mother's treatment. Quite the romantic foundation."

He almost smiled. Almost. "I'm not looking for romance, Emma. I'm looking for a solution to a problem. I assume you feel the same way."

"Two years," I said. "That's what my father said. Two years, then we go our separate ways."

"That's agreeable."

"And I keep my gallery. My business stays completely separate from all of this."

"Of course."

"And we don't..." I paused, feeling my cheeks heat up. "I mean, this isn't a real marriage. We're not... you don't expect..."

"Sex?" He said it so bluntly I nearly choked on air. "No, Emma. I don't expect anything from you except that we maintain appearances in public. What you do in private is your business. What I do in private is mine."

That should have been a relief. So why did it feel a little insulting?

"We'll need to live together," he continued. "At least maintain the appearance of it. I have a penthouse here in the city, plenty of space. You can have your own room, your own schedule. We'll coordinate for any public events or appearances."

"How romantic," I muttered.

This time he did smile, just slightly. "You have a sharp tongue. I wasn't expecting that."

"You weren't expecting much of anything about me, were you? You've barely looked at me the two times we've met before."

"I looked," he said quietly, and something in his tone made my breath catch. "I just didn't think it was appropriate to stare at my father's business partner's daughter."

Before I could figure out how to respond to that, his assistant arrived with coffee. The interruption gave me time to collect my thoughts, to remember why I was here. This was business. Just business.

"I have some conditions," I said once we were alone again. "Beyond what my father mentioned."

"I'm listening."

"I want separate bank accounts. I'll accept a reasonable allowance for appearances clothes, events, whatever but I don't want access to your main accounts and I don't want you having access to mine."

"Sensible."

"And if either of us meets someone else, someone we actually want to be with, we discuss it honestly. I'm not going to spend two years watching you parade women through tabloids while pretending to be your wife."

His expression darkened slightly. "I can agree to discretion. The whole point of this is to avoid tabloid situations."

"Discretion. Right." I took a sip of coffee, using it as an excuse to look away from those intense dark eyes. "When would this happen? The wedding?"

"My father suggested three weeks."

I nearly spit out my coffee. "Three weeks? That's insane!"

"Your mother's treatment needs to start soon, doesn't it?"

He had me there. The doctors had said time was critical. Every week we delayed was a week the cancer could spread further.

"This is crazy," I whispered. "This whole thing is completely crazy."

"Yes," Alexander agreed. "But we're doing it anyway."

He was right. We both knew how this ended. I was going to say yes, sign whatever papers they put in front of me, and in three weeks I'd be Mrs. Alexander Knight. A wife in name only to a man I barely knew, all for money and image and the desperate hope that it would save my mother's life.

"Okay," I said finally. "Three weeks. But I'm planning the wedding. If I'm going to do this, at least let me have control over something."

"Whatever you want." He stood up, extending his hand. "Do we have an agreement?"

I looked at his hand for a long moment. This was it. The point of no return. Once I shook his hand, once we agreed to this arrangement, my life would never be the same.

I stood up and took his hand. His grip was firm, warm, and lasted just a second longer than strictly necessary.

"We have an agreement," I said.

And just like that, I was engaged to Alexander Knight.