BOUGHT BY THE BILLIONAIRE

The rain was coming down like God was personally angry at the world, and I was already twenty minutes late for my second job.

Come on, come on, I muttered, gripping the steering wheel of my beat-up Honda as it coughed and wheezed through the upscale downtown district. The engine made that terrible grinding sound again,the one that meant I'd be eating ramen noodles for another month just to keep this piece of junk running.

But I couldn't think about that now. Mrs. Patterson from the cleaning service had already warned me twice about punctuality. One more strike and I'd lose the only job that paid enough to cover Mom's medication this month.

My phone buzzed with a text, and I glanced down for just a second just one second to see if it was the hospital.

Your mother's treatment has been moved to tomorrow. Please confirm.

Relief and panic hit me at the same time. Relief that Mom was stable enough to postpone. Panic because postponing meant another day of pain for her, another day I couldn't afford.

I looked up just in time to see the massive black Bentley.

Time slowed down like in those movies where everything goes wrong in beautiful, terrifying detail. I yanked the wheel hard to the right, my tires screaming against the wet asphalt, but there was nowhere to go. The sound of metal crushing metal filled the air, and my airbag exploded into my face.

When the world stopped spinning, I was sitting in my crumpled car, staring at the back of the most expensive vehicle I'd ever seen up close. Steam was rising from my hood, and I could already hear the death rattle that meant my Honda had finally given up completely.

No, no, no,I whispered, my hands shaking as I tried to turn the key. Nothing. Not even a whimper.

Through the rain, I watched the driver's door of the Bentley open. A man stepped out-tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that probably cost more than I made in six months. Even from behind, everything about him screamed power and money.

When he turned around, my breath caught in my throat.

He was beautiful in that dangerous, untouchable way that should come with warning labels. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and eyes so blue they looked almost unreal in the gray afternoon light. But it wasn't his looks that made my stomach drop,it was the cold fury in his expression as he surveyed the damage to his car.

And then those eyes found mine.

I forced myself to get out of my car, my legs wobbling like a newborn deer. I'm so sorry,I called out, my voice barely audible over the rain. I didn't see you in time, and....

Do you have any idea,he said, his voice low and controlled in a way that was somehow more terrifying than yelling, what you've just done?

I looked at his car. There was barely a scratch on the bumper. My Honda, on the other hand, looked like it had been through a blender.

I know it looks bad, but I have insurance, I lied. Well, partially lied. I had insurance the absolute minimum required by law, which would probably cover about fifty dollars of whatever this was going to cost.

He stepped closer, and I caught the scent of expensive cologne and something else, something that made my stupid heart race despite the fact that this man was clearly about to ruin my life.

This car, he said, running one finger along the barely-visible mark on his bumper, is a limited edition Bentley Mulsanne. There are only twelve of them in existence."

Oh God. Oh no.

The paint alone, he continued, those blue eyes never leaving mine, will cost more than most people make in a year.

My knees literally went weak. I put a hand on my crumpled hood to steady myself. How... How much are we talking about?

Fifty thousand dollars. Minimum.

The world tilted. Fifty thousand dollars. I didn't have fifty thousand cents to my name, let alone dollars. I had exactly thirty-seven dollars in my checking account and a credit card that was maxed out paying for Mom's last ER visit.

I... I can't...The words stuck in my throat. I couldn't breathe. This was it. This was how my life ended drowning in debt to some rich asshole over a scratch I could barely see.

You can't do what? His voice was dangerously soft.

I don't have that kind of money, I whispered. I don't have any money.

Something shifted in his expression. His eyes moved over my worn jeans, my cheap rain jacket, my scuffed sneakers taking inventory of my obvious poverty.

What's your name? he asked suddenly.

Aria. Aria Thompson.

Well, Aria Thompson, he said, and the way he said my name made something flutter in my chest despite everything. It seems we have a problem.

A black SUV pulled up behind us, and two men in dark suits got out. The taller one approached us with an umbrella, holding it over the stranger's head without a word.

Mr. Knight, the man said, shall I call the police?

Mr. Knight. Even his name sounded expensive.

That won't be necessary, Marcus, he said, never taking his eyes off me. Ms. Thompson and I are going to work something out. Aren't we, Aria?

The way he said it made my skin prickle. There was something predatory in his tone, something that suggested he was used to getting exactly what he wanted.

I don't understand, I said.

He smiled then, but it wasn't a nice smile. It was the smile of a man who had just thought of something very interesting.

You're going to pay me back every penny,he said. One way or another.

But I told you, I don't have

Oh, you'll find a way. He pulled out his phone and handed it to Marcus, who immediately started taking pictures of both cars, the damage, and me standing there like a drowned rat. You see, Aria, I'm a problem solver. And I think I know exactly how you can work off your debt.

The rain was getting harder, but I barely felt it. All I could focus on was the way he was looking at me like he was seeing something I couldn't see yet.

What do you mean? I asked, even though part of me didn't want to know the answer.

It's simple,he said, stepping close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. You're going to work for me.

Work for you how?

His smile widened, and I realized I had just walked into a trap I didn't even know existed.

Congratulations, Aria Thompson, he said. You just became the most expensive wife I've ever bought.

Before I could even process what he'd said, he was walking back to his car. Marcus handed me a business card that was still dry despite the downpour.

Damien Knight, CEO, Knight Industries

At the address tomorrow morning at nine AM sharp,Damien called over his shoulder. Wear something that doesn't look like you found it in a dumpster. We have a wedding to plan.

And then he was gone, leaving me standing in the rain with a dead car, a business card, and the strangest feeling that my life had just taken a turn into completely uncharted territory.

I looked down at the card in my shaking hands.

Wife?

What the hell had I just gotten myself into?

End of Chapter 1

Will Aria really become Damien's contract wife? What does this powerful billionaire really want from her? Keep reading to find out....