chapter 7

Julian's POV

The stack of legal files lay scattered across my desk like a battlefield I was slowly losing. I had spent the last 12 days speaking with lawyers one after another, same rehearsed lines, same dead ends. No loophole, no trick, no escape. The board’s ultimatum weighed heavy on me like a chain around my throat. One month. One month to find a solution, or everything I’d built, everything I’d fought for, would slip through my fingers and land in Caleb’s greedy hands.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, my jaw tightening as I leaned back in my chair. My temples throbbed from too much coffee and too little sleep. For once, I had no strategy, no weapon left to fight with. The thought alone made my skin crawl.

A soft knock pulled me out of my spiral.

“Come in,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

The door creaked open, and there she was, Isabella. Clutching the edge of the tray she carried, her hair in a messy bun and strands of her hair falling into her face, eyes uncertain as they darted toward me.

And just like that, like the faintest flicker of light in a suffocating room, the idea sparked. My gaze lingered on her a moment longer, and the corners of my mouth curved into the slowest, most dangerous smile I’d worn in days. Finally… a solution.

Isabella's POV

What in the world was that smile?

I froze by the door, tray still in my hands, staring at Julian like he’d suddenly lost his mind. He was sitting there, surrounded by papers and files, looking like the world was ending five seconds ago. Now he was grinning slow and sly like a goat about to chew somebody’s yam.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Come here,” he said instead, voice low, commanding.

I blinked. Do I look like his house pet?

“Excuse me?”

He leaned back in his chair, still smiling, one brow raised like he had all the time in the world.

“I said, come here. Sit.” He gestured at the chair opposite him. Something in his tone made it impossible to argue, though my pride itched to.

With a small huff, I set the tray down on the edge of his desk and walked over, sitting stiffly as if the chair might bite me. His eyes studied me in silence for a long beat. Then he said it.

“Marry me.”

I choked, literally choking on my own spit. My eyes went wide, and for a moment I was convinced he’d lost his last brain cell.

Did this man just…?

I coughed into my fist, trying to catch my breath, but my mind was already spiraling. Marry him? Me? Ha! I’ve only been here for two weeks and this one has already fallen for me? What did I do? Wash his boxers with holy water? Fry his eggs with anointing oil?

I pressed a hand to my chest, staring at him like he had sprouted horns.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

His lips quirked higher, completely unfazed.

“You heard me.”

Oh, I heard him alright. Loud and clear. I just wasn’t sure if I should laugh in his face or call a doctor. I almost laughed. Almost. But then his eyes held mine, steady, confident, as if he wasn’t joking at all. And that’s when panic started to creep up my spine.

“What… what exactly are you saying right now?” I asked, my voice half a whisper, half a squeak.

He leaned back casually, like he had all the time in the world.

“Exactly what you think I’m saying.”

Oh God. My brain short circuited. So it’s true. He’s lost it. This billionaire really wants to marry me.

My mouth went dry. Oh no. He’s serious. He’s really serious. Next thing, he’ll be on one knee with a diamond ring the size of my head.

I forced a nervous laugh. “You… you want to marry me? Like… real marriage? Husband and wife, ‘till death do us part’ kind of thing?”

He gave me that maddening smile again, the one that made me want to throw a pillow at his perfectly sculpted face. I almost choked on my own spit again. In fact, I did, because my brain decided to betray me at the worst possible time.

I coughed violently, clutching my chest, glaring at him between wheezes.

He leaned forward, clearly amused. “Careful. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, don’t you dare laugh at me, Mr. Rich and Delusional.

I managed to croak, “You… you’ve fallen for me already, haven’t you?” My voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Wow. That was fast. Two weeks in and you’re ready to sign your soul away. I must really have some kind of magical powers I don’t know about.”

His eyebrow arched, and that smirk of his deepened. But instead of denying it or admitting it, he said something worse. Something that made my stomach drop.

“I never said anything about falling in love, Isabella.”

My brain froze. My cheeks went hot like someone had set them on fire with a blowtorch. Wait. Hold on. Rewind. Did I just…?

Oh my God. Julian leaned back in his chair, eyes glittering with amusement as if he could read every humiliating thought running through my head.

“I’m proposing a deal,” he continued smoothly, like he was in a boardroom. “A marriage contract. Legal. Practical. Beneficial for both of us. Nothing more.”

I blinked at him, mortified. So he didn’t fall for me. Not even a little. Not even the tiniest crush. Nope. Here I am, choking on my spit and thinking I’m some irresistible goddess when in reality… ha! Joke’s on me.

He studied my expression, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. “You assumed otherwise, didn’t you?”

I crossed my arms, refusing to meet his gaze.

“No.”

“Yes,” he said firmly, smirk tugging at his lips.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did.” I shot him my deadliest glare. I hate this man. I hate his stupid perfect face. I hate that my cheeks feel like ripe tomatoes right now.

He leaned forward, voice low, controlled. “This isn’t about feelings, Isabella. It’s about survival. I need a wife, and you need… money. We both get something out of this arrangement.”

And just like that, the embarrassment slipped into shock. My jaw nearly dropped.

“You’ll have a house,” he continued. “Not an apartment, Isabella a house. One you can call your own, fully paid. And a generous allowance, more money than you’d ever have to worry about. Everything you need, secured the moment you say yes.”

I stared at him, stunned. Wait. Did he just…?

“Are you… bribing me into marriage?” I asked, my tone dripping with disbelief.

Julian’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it sharpened.

“This isn’t forever,” he said smoothly, like he’d already anticipated every objection I might throw his way. “One year. After that, we divorce. Clean cut, no strings attached.”

I blinked at him, trying to process. He leaned forward, elbows resting casually on his knees, like a predator laying out bait for his prey.

“For the duration of our marriage, you’ll receive an allowance of one million dollars every month.” His voice dropped lower, confident, final. “And on the day we sign our divorce papers, you’ll get alimony, a blank check. You can write in any number you want. Add that to the house I promised you, and you’ll walk away set for life.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. My brain scrambled for words, but all that came out was a half-strangled laugh.

“Are you hearing yourself?” He only tilted his head, watching me like I was amusing him.

“Sir,” I breathed, “I’ve only known you for two weeks. Two. And you’re asking me to what? Sell myself to you like some… some contract commodity?”

His expression didn’t shift. That arrogant calm of his was worse than if he had shouted.

Heat crept up my neck, part anger, part humiliation, part something I didn’t even want to name.

“I can’t do this. I won’t… I won’t sell my pride. Not for a house, not for your money, not for any of it.”

The silence stretched heavy between us. His gaze was unreadable, too intense, and it made my chest tighten in ways I hated.

I pushed my chair back and stood abruptly, forcing myself to look anywhere but at him.

“Excuse me,” I muttered, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. Then I turned and walked toward the door. My hand was already on the knob when his voice cut through the air, low and lethal.

“Think carefully, Isabella.”

I froze, every muscle in my body tightening.

“You say it’s pride,” he continued, calm and deliberate, “but pride won’t pay your debts. Pride won’t put a roof over your head. Pride won’t protect you from the world waiting to eat you alive.”

I swallowed hard, hating that his words lodged themselves deep in my chest.

“And when you’re ready to face reality,” he added, a touch of steel in his tone, “remember I don’t make the same offer twice.”

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe. I yanked the door open and left before he could see the heat rising in my cheeks. But his voice followed me down the hall, curling in my head like smoke I couldn’t escape.