Chapter 3 - The Devil’s Proposition
The back of the armored Maybach was completely silent, insulated from the chaotic noise of the Manhattan streets.
Ava sat as far away from Julian Vance as the leather seats allowed, clutching his oversized tuxedo jacket around her chest. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a cold, terrifying reality. She was sitting in the private car of a billionaire she had never met, who had just claimed to be marrying her.
Julian poured a glass of sparkling water from the car’s mini-bar and handed it to her. His large fingers brushed hers. The spark of static electricity made her gasp.
“Drink,” he commanded gently. “You’re in shock.”
Ava took the glass with trembling hands. “Why did you do that? I don’t even know you.”
Julian leaned back in his seat, watching her with a calm, calculating intensity. “I know you, Ava Knox. You’ve been working for Bellmere Events for two years. You arrive at 5:00 AM, you leave at 9:00 PM. Last week, you single-handedly saved the Mayor’s charity dinner when the catering company’s truck broke down. I know you’re overworked, underpaid, and until six months ago, you were financially bleeding yourself dry for a parasite named Damian Cross.”
Ava’s jaw dropped. “Are you stalking me?”
“I own Bellmere Events,” Julian said smoothly. “I own the Astor Grand Hotel. I own the building you live in. I make it my business to know the hardest workers in my empire. I noticed you months ago.”
He steepled his fingers, his gaze turning strictly professional.
“I stepped in tonight because I despise bullies. But I also stepped in because I need something from you, Ava. And I am prepared to pay you handsomely for it.”
Ava gripped the glass. “What could you possibly need from me?”
“A fiancée.”
Julian unbuttoned his cuffs, sighing heavily. “I am currently closing a sixty-billion-dollar acquisition of a European shipping conglomerate. The board of directors is old-fashioned, archaic, and deeply suspicious of my... aggressive lifestyle. They want a family man. They want stability. They told my board that if I cannot prove I am settling down, they will block the merger.”
“So hire an actress,” Ava said. “Or a model.”
“Actresses act. Models pose,” Julian replied dismissively. “I need someone authentic. Someone who understands hard work, someone who won’t get distracted by the flashbulbs, and someone who won’t try to genuinely extort me. I need a woman with iron in her spine. I saw how you looked at him tonight before I stepped in. You were drowning, but you refused to sink.”
He leaned forward, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her.
“Six months, Ava. You will live in my penthouse. You will attend public events by my side. You will pretend to be madly in love with me. In exchange, I will clear all of your remaining debts. I will give you a limitless black card for your personal use. And when the six months are up, I will wire five million dollars into your bank account, and you will never have to work a grueling shift again.”
Five million dollars.
Ava’s mind spun. It was a life-altering, impossible amount of money. She could open her own event planning firm. She could buy a house. She would never have to calculate the price of groceries again.
“What about Damian?” she whispered, the sting of the ballroom still fresh.
A dark, lethal smirk touched the corner of Julian’s mouth. “Damian Cross is an analyst at Sterling North Capital. I happen to be Sterling North’s largest shareholder. By tomorrow morning, Damian will realize that crossing my fiancée comes with consequences that will shatter his pathetic little world.”
Julian extended his hand.
“Do we have a deal, Miss Knox?”
May you like
Ava looked at his large, strong hand. She thought of her cramped apartment. She thought of Damian’s laughter. She thought of taking her power back.
She placed her hand in his. “Deal.”
