Chapter 2 - The Contract and the SecretInside the quiet sanctuary of the armored Maybach, the noise of New York City vanished behind heavy tinted glass. Roman sat across from me, pouring two glasses of sparkling water from the mini-bar. He handed one to me with effortless grace.
"Drink," he urged softly. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I haven't seen a ghost. I've been declared married to a stranger!" I blurted out, my hands trembling as I took the glass. "Mr. DeLuca—"
"Roman."
"Roman," I repeated, the name feeling heavy on my tongue. "What was that back there? You don't know me. I'm a low-level coordinator at Laurent Logistics. I make forty-five thousand a year and eat instant ramen three nights a week. Why would you claim me as your wife?"
Roman leaned back, crossing one long leg over the other. His eyes searched my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "A month ago, outside the café on 5th Street. An elderly woman dropped her groceries in the pouring rain. Dozens of people in five-thousand-dollar suits stepped over her broken jars. You stopped, ruined your own shoes, helped her carry those heavy bags three blocks to her car, and refused to take her money."
I blinked, taken aback. "I... I remember that. But what does that have to do with tonight?"
"That woman was my grandmother, CEO Emerita of DeLuca Holdings," Roman said quietly. "She told me about a young woman with fierce dignity and a pure heart. She’s been trying to play matchmaker ever since. But more urgently... I needed a shield tonight, and so did you."
"A shield?"
"Celeste Moreau’s father is trying to force a hostile merger with my family's firm, using a fake marriage proposal between Celeste and me as leverage," Roman explained, his jaw tightening. "My board of directors wanted me to consider it for business reasons. By announcing I am already married, I destroyed their leverage in ten seconds."
"And you used me as your pawn?" I asked, indignation flaring in my chest.
"I gave you leverage too," Roman countered smoothly. "Victor Laurent was planning to fire you tonight to appease Celeste. Tomorrow, Victor reports to you. But I am not a tyrant, Lena. I am offering you a business arrangement."
He pulled a crisp, leather-bound folder from his jacket and laid it on the table between us.
"A six-month contract," Roman said. "You pretend to be my wife in public. You attend key events with me, play the devoted bride, and keep Celeste's family at bay. In return, I will give you five million dollars, an executive position at DeLuca Enterprises, and full immunity from anyone who ever tries to mock you again."
I stared at the leather folder, my mind spinning. Five million dollars? An executive role? It sounded like a fairy tale, but Roman’s cold, calculated eyes reminded me this was high-stakes business.
"And what happens after six months?" I asked quietly.
"A quiet, amicable divorce due to 'irreconcilable differences,'" Roman replied. "You walk away a wealthy, independent woman."
I looked down at my simple black dress—the dress they had laughed at. I thought of Victor’s condescending sneer, Celeste’s cruel laugh, and my endless struggle to pay rent. Then I looked at Roman DeLuca.
"Two conditions," I demanded, setting my glass down.
Roman raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
May you like
"First, my work life stays professional. I earned my career, and I won't be a trophy figurehead. Second... no physical intimacy."
A slow, dangerously charming smile spread across Roman's lips. "Agreed. Welcome to the DeLuca family, Mrs. DeLuca."
