I found out I was getting married the same way the rest of the world did, through a viral headline with my name in it.Arthur Blackwood,a billionaire,reclusive,ruthless and apparently, my future husband.I didn’t agree to this. I didn’t sign anything. I didn’t even know his last name before my face was plastered across every screen in London.But here’s the thing about being broke, desperate and one missed payment away from losing the only person you have left in this world and when a man like Arthur Blackwood offers you a way out, you don’t ask why.You ask where to sign.No love. No intimacy. No emotions. Just a contract, a ring and one year of pretending.Except nobody told my heart about the contract.And nobody told me that the most dangerous thing about living under the same roof as Arthur Blackwood wasn’t falling for him.It was realizing he might already be falling for me.