Chapter 2 The Billionaire's Proposal

I didn't sleep.

How could I sleep when a complete stranger had just told me I was going to be his wife? I spent the entire night pacing around my tiny studio apartment, staring at that business card like it might suddenly make sense.

Damien Knight, CEO, Knight Industries.

I'd Googled him, of course. What I found made my stomach drop even further. The man was worth billions with a B. His company owned half the skyscrapers in the city. He was on the cover of Forbes magazine last month with the headline Most Ruthless CEO Under 35.

And somehow, I was supposed to show up at his office wearing something that didn't look like I found it in a dumpster.

The problem was, most of my clothes actually did look like I found them in a dumpster.

I stood in front of my closet at eight fifteen in the morning, holding the only decent thing I owned, a black dress I'd bought for job interviews two years ago. It was simple, maybe a little too big now since I'd lost weight from skipping meals, but it was clean and didn't have any holes.

It would have to do.

The address on his business card led me to the tallest building downtown, the one with Knight Industries written in silver letters across the top. I'd walked past this building a hundred times, never imagining I'd actually go inside.

The lobby was all marble and glass, with security guards who looked like they could bench press my entire apartment. I walked up to the reception desk, my shoes squeaking embarrassingly on the polished floor.

I'm here to see Damien Knight, I said to the woman behind the desk. She was beautiful in that expensive way, with perfect hair and makeup that probably cost more than my rent.

Do you have an appointment? she asked, looking at me like I was something unpleasant she'd stepped in.

I... he told me to be here at nine.

She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Your name?

Aria Thompson.

She typed something into her computer, and her expression shifted from dismissive to shocked. Mr. Knight is expecting you. Take the private elevator to the top floor.

She pointed to a set of gold elevators I hadn't even noticed. Private elevator. Of course.

The ride to the top floor felt like it took forever. When the doors finally opened, I stepped into what looked more like a luxury hotel than an office. Everything was sleek and modern, from the glass walls to the leather furniture that probably cost more than I made in a year.

Ms. Thompson, a voice said behind me.

I turned to see the man from yesterday, Marcus, standing there in another expensive suit. He looked just as intimidating in daylight as he had in the rain.

Mr. Knight is waiting for you in his office.

He led me down a hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. I tried not to gawk, but it was impossible. This was how rich people lived, up in the clouds, looking down at the rest of us.

Marcus stopped in front of a set of double doors and knocked once.

Come in, came Damien's voice from inside.

The office was massive, bigger than my entire apartment. One wall was completely glass, offering a panoramic view of the city. The other walls were lined with expensive art and awards. And behind a desk that looked like it could double as a small aircraft carrier sat Damien Knight.

He looked even more intimidating in his natural habitat. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit that fit him like it had been painted on, and when he looked up from whatever he was reading, those blue eyes hit me with the same intensity as yesterday.

You're on time, he said, checking his watch. I wasn't sure you'd show up.

I don't have much choice, do I? I managed to say.

He smiled, and this time it actually looked genuine. Smart girl. Sit down.

I sat in one of the leather chairs across from his desk, trying not to think about how much it probably cost.

Let me explain how this is going to work, he said, setting down his papers and giving me his full attention. You owe me fifty thousand dollars for damages to my car. You don't have fifty thousand dollars. But I have a problem you can solve.

What kind of problem?

He stood up and walked around his desk, perching on the edge of it directly in front of me. This close, I could smell his cologne again, and it was doing things to my concentration that I really couldn't afford.

My grandfather left me his company when he died, but there was a condition in his will. I have to be married by my thirty-first birthday, or control of Knight Industries goes to my cousin Bradley.

And?

And my thirty-first birthday is in six weeks.

I stared at him. So get married. I'm sure there are plenty of women who would love to marry a billionaire.

His expression darkened. I don't want a real wife. I want a business arrangement. Someone who won't get ideas about love and happily ever after. Someone who needs the money enough to keep their mouth shut about the details.

Someone like me.

Someone exactly like you, he confirmed. You're desperate, you're in debt, and you have absolutely nothing to gain by making this complicated.

I should have been insulted. Instead, I found myself considering it. Fifty thousand dollars would pay off Mom's medical bills and then some. It would mean she could get the treatment she needed without me having to choose between her medication and keeping the lights on.

What exactly would I have to do? I asked.

Simple. We get married, you attend a few public events with me to make it look legitimate, and after a year, we get divorced. You walk away with your debt paid off plus a generous settlement.

How generous?

Two hundred thousand dollars.

I nearly fell out of my chair. Two hundred thousand dollars was more money than I'd ever dreamed of having. It was enough to take care of Mom, maybe even go back to school.

But it was also crazy.

You're insane, I said. You don't even know me.

I know enough. You're twenty-three, you work three jobs to pay for your mother's cancer treatment, and you haven't had a real relationship in two years because you don't have time for one.

I stared at him. How do you...

I had you investigated, he said casually, like it was perfectly normal to have someone's entire life researched overnight. You're perfect for what I need, Aria. You're pretty enough to be believable as my wife, but not so beautiful that people will ask too many questions about why you married me. You're desperate enough to keep our arrangement quiet, and you're smart enough to handle the social obligations that come with being Mrs. Knight.

Mrs. Knight. The words sent a strange shiver through me.

This is crazy, I repeated.

Maybe. But it's also practical. You get the money you need to save your mother, and I get to keep the company my grandfather built. Everyone wins.

Except that we'd be lying to everyone.

Welcome to high society, he said with a dry smile. Half the marriages in my social circle are business arrangements. The only difference is we're being honest about it upfront.

I looked around his office, at the luxury that surrounded him, at the view that stretched out beyond the windows. This man lived in a completely different world than I did, a world of private jets and designer suits and cars that cost more than houses.

And he was offering to let me into that world, even if it was just pretend.

I need to think about it, I said finally.

You have until this afternoon. He walked back around his desk and sat down, already reaching for his papers like the conversation was over. If you decide yes, we'll go shopping for a ring. If you decide no, I'll expect the first payment on your debt by the end of the week.

He looked up at me with those impossibly blue eyes. The choice is yours, Aria. But choose quickly. Time is money, and I don't like wasting either.

Marcus appeared at my elbow, ready to escort me out. I stood on shaky legs, still trying to process everything that had just happened.

One more thing, Damien called as I reached the door. If you say yes, there will be rules. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. I'm not interested in playing house or pretending to be in love. You'll get your own room, your own space, and we'll interact only when necessary for appearances.

Got it?

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Good. I'll expect your answer by three o'clock.

And with that, I was dismissed, left to wander back out into the real world with the most insane decision of my life weighing on my shoulders.

Marriage to a billionaire who saw me as nothing more than a business transaction.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

My mother's life hangs in the balance.

What was I supposed to do?

End of Chapter 2