They say marrying a billionaire is easy, until you’re the one standing at the altar. Ethan Steele is everything I swore to avoid: cold, controlling, and emotionally unavailable. But when death came knocking, I had no choice than to accept a deal that would change everything….
View MoreAmelia
“It’s an opportunity of a lifetime, Amelia. Do you realize how much this could boost your career?”, Dr. Marks leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk like he had all the time in the world.
I did not. What I saw was the flashing neon sign of regret associated with Ethan Steele's work.
“No, I'm not listening," I stated decidedly as I grabbed my tote bag. “Let’s be honest, I care about my peace of mind and from what I’ve been told, Ethan Steele doesn't come across as a piece of cake to find serenity.”
I knew I should have sent him over to someone else the moment Estelle told me she'd be transferring her patients to me, since she was resigning, but I hadn't.
I thought I could handle it. Handle him…And I was wrong. I dreaded our sessions more than I dreaded working overtime.
Dr. Marks sighed, his eyes narrowing in that patronizing way senior doctors often did when they felt superior. “Amelia, Ethan Steele isn’t just any patient. He’s the Ethan Steele. If you succeed with him, the doors it could open—”
A scoff escaped my lips. The only doors that could open were the doors of my office, ushering him out after each session.
“I’m not here for doors”. I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’m here to help people heal, not babysit some billionaire who’s too proud to put in the work.”
“He’s not your typical case, " Dr. Marks pressed, sitting forward. “You’re the best physical therapist we have after Estelle. If anyone can handle him, it’s you.”
Handle him. As if I didn't have enough to do. Between juggling demanding clients, my clinic responsibilities, and my mother’s mounting medical bills, taking on a high profile case like Ethan Steele’s felt like asking for trouble.
“Find someone else,” I said, standing. “I can’t do this.”
The elevator ride down to the clinic’s lobby felt suffocating.
My cell phone rang inside my bag, but I did nothing about it.
Probably just another prompt about late payments or calls I just did not have the energy to respond to.
As I stepped outside, the brisk air snapped at my face. The walk to my apartment was only ten minutes, but I could already feel the weight of the day pressing down.
Just the idea of sitting in my dingy one bedroom apartment and wrestling with another pile of medical chill out sheets sent me spiraling.
When I finally unlocked the door, the dimly lit apartment did nothing to raise my spirits. It looked just as gloomy as I felt.
My mother’s hospital room wasn’t much better, but at least there, I had her soft voice and the smell of lavender lotion to ground me.
Here, it was just... emptiness.
The pile of unopened mail on the counter taunted me. Grabbing the top envelope, I tore it open. As expected, it was another hospital bill.
Total due: $12,473.21
I dropped the paper, my stomach knotting. I’d been managing to scrape by with my savings and freelance gigs, but this? This was impossible.
Before I could keep beating myself up about it, my phone buzzed back one more time. I grabbed it from the counter with the intention of terminating whoever was on the other side, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I read the name.
Jared Marshall.
Just hearing the name was enough to cause my chest to constrict.
Jared was the right hand man of Ethan Steele, with an unsentimental and uncompromising style. He had a cold and calculating demeanor but was a nice guy overall.
But that wasn't why I froze.
I'd met Jared before. Briefly. At an industry gala over a year and a half ago.
Back then, I'd been a nervous wreck, a new employee eager to please and practically dragging myself through the evening, counting down the minutes until I could leave.
I hadn't expected anyone to notice me, let alone strike up a conversation.
But Jared had.
That night, I had no idea who he was or he was working for, I was too nervous to ask.
We'd ended up at the same bar, both desperate for an escape from the crowd.
He'd ordered whiskey, neat, and offered to buy me a drink. I'd refused at first, but then he told me to relax, and somehow, we'd ended up talking.
About everything and about nothing.
I closed my eyes as I remembered how his sharp, cold demeanor had thawed just a little by the time we clinked glasses.
How his eyes had locked almost too intently on mine, as if I was the only person present. It made me feel like I could do anything.
But then nothing had happened between us, because before it could, he was called away.
A couple months later, I saw him on the news, standing next to Ethan Steele, the arrogant yet most coveted bachelor and billionaire in the city.
I had been relieved nothing had happened between Jared and I after seeing that.
Against my better judgment, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Miss Blake," Jared, with a deep, commanding sound, on the phone. “I trust you’ve heard about Ethan Steele’s condition?”
“Wow you're still cold…”
There was a pause at the other end, and I could tell he was smiling. He rarely smiled, but that night, he'd smiled…
Even laughed.
“And you're no longer nervous. Very sharp tongue.” He retorted, his voice still firm but less formal.
I smiled. “Much better…now…”
“You have to say yes.” Jared cut in.
I groaned inwardly. “I’ve heard enough. If this is to take him up as a client, I already turned down the offer and the answer is no.”
There was a break and then Jared spoke and my heart skipped a beat. “What if I told you there was more at stake here than just a therapy contract?”
I hesitated. “I’m not interested in publicity stunts.”
“This isn’t a stunt,” Jared said evenly. “This is about preserving Ethan’s legacy. The board is circling like vultures, and if Ethan doesn’t show progress soon, he’ll lose everything he’s built. That’s why we need you.”
The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard, but I wasn’t ready to relent. “Why me? Surely you can afford the best therapists in the world.”
“We already have the best therapist in the world, " Jared said smoothly. “And she’s the one I’m speaking to.”
Flattery wasn’t going to work on me. “I appreciate the compliment, but I have personal obligations. I am not able to handle this kind of case right now.”
I didn't tell him what I really felt. That I didn't want to deal with Ethan. Estelle stories about him were all I wanted them to be. Stories.
“I understand your hesitation,” Jared said, his voice softening. What if I showed you how to eliminate all of your financial troubles in a single stroke?”
My grip tightened on the phone. “What are you talking about?”
“A contract,” he said. One that carries with it full payment of your mother's medical debt, plus bonuses. The only catch is that it involves more than therapy.”
I frowned, suspicion rising. “What’s the catch?”
Something was up.
“You’d have to marry Ethan.”
The words hit me like a freight train. For a moment, I was sure I’d misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”
Then I threw my head back and laughed. This was a joke.
Has everyone gone mad today?
“It's a publicity stunt", Jared said, as if asking to marry a stranger was a perfectly good call. “The board needs to see Ethan as stable and rehabilitating. A wife would make him appear grounded, and your reputation would assure them he’s in the best hands.”
“This is insane,” I muttered, pacing my tiny kitchen. “You think I’m going to marry someone I’ve never met, let alone someone like Ethan Steele?”
“You wouldn’t be marrying him in the traditional sense,_ Jared said. “It’s a business arrangement. “You would live with him, care for him, and pretend to be a couple in good spirits. Once the situation stabilizes, you’re free to leave.”
I did want to giggle, but nothing was funny about any of this. “And what if I say no?”
How did I go from being a therapist to a wife?
There was a long silence before Jared spoke, "Well I hope you are ready to watch your mother's condition get worse while you wait for a miracle to make those payments.”
I froze. This was no longer funny. Who did he think he was?How dare he weaponize my mother’s health against me?
“How dare you? No. No way. I will not do it!” I heard myself yell.
“You have 24 hours to decide. Please think carefully about your decision” Jared said. “Consider what this has the potential to do for you, your mother, and your career.”
“Now, look here. You can tell Ethan Steele that—”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, doing my best to control the way my hands were shaking with anger. This couldn’t be real.
However, the pile of money on my counter begged to differ. It was real, and somehow I had a chance to clear all these debts and finally be free.
I had a chance to save my mother.
Clutching the silver necklace on my chest, I sank into a chair.
This was nuts. Everyone was nuts. Marry Ethan Steele? Live under the same roof as a crippled man known for his temper and arrogance?
I couldn't do it.
Yet, the alternative was even grimmer. It was either that or sink into the ground with debts, or probably lose my mother.
I swallowed hard, tears stinging
my eyes. How has my life come to this? Why was everything suddenly so hard?
Jared said I had a choice, but that was a lie.
I had no choice.
It was either this or death
Amelia's pov: present "Ethan…"His name scraped out of my throat before I even knew I was saying it.But no one answered.I was slumped on the floor just inside the bedroom door, the towel clutched hard against me already soaked through and warm with blood. The air smelled like lavender and saltwater, and the tiles beneath me felt so cold, it made my teeth chatter.I pressed my palm harder against the towel, trying to convince myself it was enough to stop it. But the blood kept coming.I tried to sit up straighter and immediately felt the world tilt sideways. My vision swam. My fingers went numb.Beyond the door I could still hear faint laughter, faint murmuring—Ethan’s voice low and warm. For half a second it comforted me. Then the sound twisted itself into something sharp, something mean. My mind conjured her—Sienna out there with him, lips red, hand on his arm. Smiling like she already knew how this would end.I hated myself for thinking it, but the thought stuck in my ribs and wo
Ethan's pov: 2hrs ago "Don’t wait up. I’ll be quick."That’s what I told her.Amelia was already sinking into the bath when I closed the bedroom door behind me. I could still hear the faint slosh of water and her soft sigh echoing in my head as I stepped into the quiet of the villa’s corridor.The text had come through just minutes earlier, buzzing on the nightstand.Come to the terrace for a minute. Need to talk before everyone gathers. You look good on your feet again. Proud of you.It was from Marco—the owner of the villa and my oldest friend from university. The gala tonight was his doing. His message hadn’t sounded urgent, but knowing Marco, he’d already have two glasses of whiskey in him and a dozen things he wanted to say before the formal toast began.I straightened my jacket, grabbed my cane from where it leaned against the armoire, and gave one last glance at the door to the bathroom. The scent of lavender hung in the air even out here.I told myself it wouldn’t take long.
Amelia's pov We reached the villa just as the sun began to slip behind the hills, spilling molten gold and burnt orange across the water. The air was thick with salt and the faint, smoky scent of grilled fish from somewhere down the coast. Ethan carried most of the bags, despite my protests, his long fingers hooked easily through the handles.“You’re impossible,” I muttered as we crossed the threshold.“And you’re predictable,” he shot back, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “I told you—quick stop. Somehow you bought out half the damn market.”I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing, though it came out thinner than I intended. “Oh please. Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy haggling with that spice vendor. I swear you two were flirting by the end.”He paused just inside the kitchen, setting the heavier bags down with a soft thunk on the counter. His smirk faltered—not much, but enough that I caught it. “She was old enough to be my mother,” he said, voice flat now.I leaned against t
POV: Amelia“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep, “and I’m going to forget we’re supposed to take it slow.”I didn’t answer. I just smiled and trailed my fingers lower under the sheets, past the curve of his stomach, until I felt him—already half-hard, already responding to just my touch.Ethan inhaled sharply, his arm tightening around my waist.“Morning,” I whispered.“Best one yet,” he said, voice gravel and heat.I shifted onto my side so I could look at him fully. The sunlight cut across his chest in soft lines, making everything golden and impossibly tender. But when I slid my leg over his and pressed against him, what lit between us wasn’t soft.It was fire.His hand slid down to my thigh, gripping it as I rocked against him slowly. I kissed him then—deep, lazy, indulgent. Not like we were in a hurry. Like we had all morning. Like we’d earned this.Because we had.He pulled me on top of him, his hands firm on my hips, and I didn’t hesita
POV: AmeliaI didn’t wait for him.The second the music swelled and Sienna draped herself across him like a memory refusing to die, I slipped out from the marble halls like a ghost. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t need to. If he had looked hard enough, he would’ve seen the truth in my eyes.My heart pounded as I pushed through the corridor of glittering strangers and exited the villa’s garden. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses faded behind me, replaced by the echo of my footsteps on cold stone. Each step was a scream I couldn’t voice.By the time I reached the hallway of our suite, I’d kicked off my shoes. The champagne had soaked through the suede, and they squished with every step. I let them go. Left them behind like the part of me that had smiled when he whispered “just one more night.”Inside, everything was too quiet.The villa’s suite was draped in muted golds and thick cream curtains, soft light glowing from lamps he’d turned on before we left. My reflection followed me
POV: Amelia The garden looked like something out of a dream—moonlight spilling across marble floors, paper lanterns strung through olive trees, casting soft golden halos over clusters of Italy’s most elite. There were fountains that whispered as they trickled and tables dressed in champagne-colored silk, the kind of place that made one forget reality and lean into something more dangerous—like illusions.Amelia descended the stone steps slowly, her pearl-gray dress clinging like a second skin, elegant but quiet, unlike the glimmering gowns that brushed against the marble around her. She wore no necklace, just pearl drop earrings and a flick of silver at her eyes. Understated, but Ethan had called her devastating.He’d kissed her hand just before they entered, his voice low and sure, like it belonged in her bones.“Just one more night,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb stroking her knuckles, “and we vanish again.”She had smiled, leaned in, and kissed the edge of his jaw, as if seal
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