Chapter Two

Ethan

“Are you asking me to thank you for this brilliant suggestion, Jared?” My voice sliced through the quiet of the study like a knife.

Jared stood near the window, his hands clasped behind his back, exuding his usual air of calm efficiency. 

And somehow that irritated me even more.

 “I expect you to consider it, Ethan. Your employment at Steele Industries is in jeopardy. The easiest way to shut a board shut is to hang a stable, domestic picture over it.”

“Those unfaithful bastards. After everything I have done for them. This is how they repay me?”

I hit the fingers against the leather side of my wheelchair armrest, eyes fixed on the papers on top of the mahogany desk before me. 

Marriage. Therapy. 

An engineered fairytale to placate the mockeries that surrounded my kingdom.

“She’s a therapist,” I said more to myself than Jared. 

Estelle had told me about the freelance therapist that they'd hired on a contract, whom she'd be transferring me to, right after she told me about her resignation to go work in Africa, and I knew I instantly disliked her.

From the way Estelle spoke about her, it was obvious she was the kind of therapist that would dig into your soul and rip you apart. And it felt wrong.

Maybe I'd instantly disliked her because she would try to make me open up, yet again. She wasn't Estelle. The older woman felt more like a friend.

I refused to think about the fact that she might force me to rehash my pains all over again. She'd make me open up to her, and she would try to fix me.

But being in a wheelchair didn't mean I was broken. Just my legs were.

“Not an actress. What makes you think she’ll agree to this nonsense?”

Jared turned, his expression unreadable. “Amelia Blake is one of the top people in the game. She is clean and the board is aware of her work. She’s exactly what we need.”

“What I need,” I corrected sharply. “Let’s not pretend this is about anything other than keeping Steele Industries in my hands.”

Jared didn’t deny it. He never sugarcoated the truth, which was one of the reasons I kept him around. Still, the idea of tying myself to a stranger, even temporarily, made my stomach churn.

“Why her?” I asked after a long silence. “Out of all the options, why Amelia Blake?”

Jared moved a little along his way, his stern look never budged. 

“She’s desperate, Ethan. Her mother's hospital bills are getting out of hand, and she's not able to pay. That desperation makes her willing to take on someone as difficult as you.”

I smirked bitterly. “So, I’m her charity case now?”

“No,” Jared said firmly. “You’re her opportunity. And she’s yours.”

The bitterness clawed at me. I loathed the notion that I had become, reduced to this. 

A wreck disabled by an event, and forced to skirmish with the wolves, while confined to, of all things, a darned chair. The rest of the world still viewed me as a brutal machine, but sometimes I wondered if they mocked me as well.

“Fine,” I said, my voice cold. “I’ll play along. But don't expect me to do this easy thing for her.”

Jared nodded, the faintest hint of approval flickering in his eyes. “She’s arriving tomorrow for a formal meeting. We’ll go over the terms then.” Then he turned on his heel and left the study.

I fixed my gaze on my legs, where a burning pain of phantom limb sensation ran deep.

 The accident had taken so much more than my ability to walk. It had stolen my pride, my freedom, and apparently my agency now.

However, if Amelia Blake felt that she could just waltz in here and fix me like one of her patients, she was in for a shock.

There was no way in hell I was making this easy for her.

***

The next morning, I was in my office, waiting, and then Jared came in and, behind him, there was a woman, whom I instantly recognized from her file.

 Amelia Blake.

She was younger than I’d expected, with chestnut hair pulled into a neat bun and a tailored navy blue blazer that screamed professionalism. Her eyes were a startling brown with gold flecks that complimented the colour of her hair.

Her eyes scanned me, quick and perceptive, yet there was no compassion in her eyes. That, at least, earned her a sliver of respect.

“Mr. Steele,” she said, her tone polite but cool.

“Miss Blake,” I replied, keeping my expression unreadable. “I trust Jared has filled you in on the arrangement?”

Her jaw tightened, but she nodded. “He has. I’m here to discuss the terms.”

I shot Jared a look, but he shrugged.

“What's that?” I leaned back in my chair, focusing on her. “This isn’t a negotiation, Miss Blake. You either agree to my conditions, or you’re free to walk away.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I saw a flash of fire. 

Interesting…

“What are the conditions?” she replied, arms crossed.

Jared showed her the contract, and I saw her eyes fly across the lines. The ripple of shameful amusement passing over her face almost made me laugh.

“You expect me to move into your house today?” she asked, her voice rising. “And you want full control over my schedule?”

She raised her eyes to mine, and arched an eyebrow. 

“Yes,” I said simply. “If you’re going to play the part of my devoted wife, you’ll need to be available whenever the situation calls for it.”

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the contract. “I’m not your puppet, Mr. Steele. If you think you can control me—”

“I don’t think,” I interrupted coldly. “I know. You need this, Miss Blake. Desperately. And I’m offering you a way out. But make no mistake, this is my show. You’re just playing a role.”

She glared at me, her cheeks flushing with anger. “If I do this, there will be boundaries. I'm here to recover you, not to feed you.”

“Boundaries?” I arched a brow, leaning forward. “You’re in no position to make demands, Miss Blake. You’ll follow my rules, or the deal is off. And remember, you're not here to recover me, there's nothing to recover from, you're only here to act. Do that.”

Amelia's eyes narrowed, but she held my gaze.

Amelia did not yield, and for that moment, I even admired her spirit. 

Almost.

“You’re going to have to give me at least till tomorrow to move out of my apartment.” she said through gritted teeth.

“Permission denied,” I countered. “If you think for a second that this is about anything other than business, you’re fooling yourself. You have to move in today. I want to see you at dinner.”

Her silence was deafening. For a moment I almost wished she'd say no. 

But she said nothing.

“Sign the agreement, Miss Blake," I told her, pushing a pen across the desk. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to live in the streets once your contract expires, and let your mother's condition deteriorate.”

Her hand shook as she picked up the pen and for just a moment I almost thought she might just walk out or better still stab me with it.

 However, with a sudden gasp for air, she wrote her name at the bottom of the sheet.

As she handed the signed contract back to me, she bit her lower lip, leaned across my table, and smiled at me, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. 

“You’ll regret this, Mr. Steele.”

I smirked, admiring the colour of her eyes. She was pretty.

“The feeling is mutual, Mrs. Steele.” I retorted with a smirk.