The Billionaire contract Bride

Chapter 1: The Proposal

The offer came on the worst day of my life.

I was sitting in the hallway of St. Mary's Hospital, holding a bill I couldn't pay, wearing a waitress uniform that still smelled like coffee and grease, when my phone rang.

"Elena Rossi?" A cold, professional female voice. "Mr. Sterling will see you now. 58th floor. Don't be late."

And then she hung up.

Alexander Sterling.

The name alone made my stomach drop. I hadn't heard it in six years. Not since he left for London after graduation, not since he stopped answering my texts, not since his little sister - my best friend Maya - told me he said I was just a charity case their family took pity on.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to throw my phone against the wall. But the paper in my hand was shaking so hard I could barely read it.

FINAL NOTICE: $87,432.00 DUE IN 24 HOURS. FAILURE TO PAY WILL RESULT IN CANCELLATION OF SURGERY.

My mother was inside that ICU, her heart failing, her face pale as the sheets. The doctor had said the surgery could save her. The hospital said no payment, no surgery. The bank had laughed at me this morning. My manager at the diner had fired me an hour ago for taking too many personal calls.

I had nothing left.

So I stood up, wiped my tears with the back of my hand, and took the subway to Manhattan. To Sterling Tower.

The building was all glass and steel, touching the clouds. The kind of building that made people like me feel small. The receptionist didn't even look at me as she pointed to the private elevator.

The 58th floor was silent. Too silent. The kind of silence money buys.

And then the doors opened to his office.

He was standing by the window, his back to me, looking out over all of New York like he owned it. Which, technically, he almost did. At twenty-nine, Alexander Sterling was the CEO of Sterling Enterprises, worth 4.7 billion dollars, voted Most Eligible Bachelor three years in a row, and known for destroying companies before breakfast.

He turned around.

I forgot how to breathe.

He was more handsome than I remembered. That was unfair. At sixteen he had been lanky and awkward, with braces and messy hair. Now his suit was custom-made, probably worth more than my yearly rent. His shoulders were broad, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass, his hair dark and perfectly styled. But his eyes - his steel-grey eyes - were exactly the same. Cold. Calculating. Seeing right through me.

"Elena."

His voice was deeper. Rougher.

"You cut your hair," he said.

I self-consciously touched my short, messy ponytail. "Alex."

"Mr. Sterling," he corrected, walking to his massive mahogany desk. "Please. Sit."

I sat. My uniform felt even more cheap under these lights.

He didn't waste time. He slid a thick, bound document across the desk towards me. It was at least fifty pages.

"One million dollars, Elena. For one year of your life."

I stared at him. "What?"

"I need a wife," he said, sitting down, his fingers steepled. "My grandfather is dying. Pancreatic cancer. Three months at most. His final wish is to see me married. More importantly, his will states that I must be legally married by my thirtieth birthday - which is in twenty-eight days - to inherit the controlling shares of Sterling Enterprises. If I am not married, the board can vote to sell the company. Ten thousand employees lose their jobs. My grandfather's life work disappears."

He said it like he was reading a quarterly report. No emotion.

"You need money. I need a wife. It's a simple business transaction."

I looked down at the document. CONTRACT MARRIAGE AGREEMENT was written in bold capital letters on the first page.

"You want me to... marry you?" I whispered. "For money?"

"For a lot of money," he corrected. "Your mother's surgery at St. Mary's - I have already arranged for Dr. Chen from Johns Hopkins to fly in tomorrow morning. The best cardiac surgeon in the country. Her entire hospital bill, paid in full, tonight. Plus, one million dollars wired to your account on the day our divorce is finalized in one year. You can finish your nursing degree. You can buy a house. You can have your life back."

My hands were shaking. "Why me? You could have any woman in New York. Supermodels. Actresses. Why me?"

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Something that looked almost like pain, but it was gone so fast I thought I imagined it.

"Because you are the only woman my grandfather has ever asked about," he said quietly. "Maya used to talk about you constantly. He remembers you. The little girl who used to eat at our table because her mother was working double shifts. He liked you. He will believe it. And because you... you need this as much as I do. You won't get attached. You know I don't do relationships."

"You hate me," I said, tears finally spilling over. "You told Maya I was a charity case. You left without even saying goodbye. You ignored me for six years."

His jaw tightened. He stood up abruptly and walked around the desk until he was right in front of me. He was so close I could smell his cologne - something dark, woody, expensive, that made my head spin. He tilted my chin up with one finger, forcing me to look at him.

"I don't hate you, Elena," he said, his voice low and rough. "I have never hated you. But I don't have time for feelings, and neither do you. This is not a love story. This is a contract."

He let go and started listing rules, pacing in front of me like a lawyer in court.

"Rule One: You will move into my penthouse tonight. The master bedroom is mine. You will have your own room. Rule Two: In public, you will be the adoring, loving wife. You will smile. You will hold my hand. You will convince everyone, especially my grandfather, that you are madly in love with me. Rule Three: In private, we are nothing. No touching unless necessary for appearances. No entering my bedroom unless invited. No feelings. Ever. Do you understand?"

I was crying openly now. "And Rule Four?"

He stopped pacing. He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes dropping to my lips, then back to my eyes. His voice was barely a whisper.

"Rule Four: You will never fall in love with me. Because I will never love you back. I am incapable of it. I will break your heart, Elena. I guarantee it."

The room was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.

"What if I say no?" I asked.

"Then you walk out that door," he said, his face turning back to stone. "Your mother doesn't get her surgery. You get evicted next week. And I find another girl by Friday. There are a hundred girls who would kill for this offer. But I am offering it to you. Because despite everything... I trust you to not sell this story to the press."

It wasn't a choice. It was never a choice.

I looked at the pen he offered me. Montblanc. Probably worth more than my mother's life to this hospital.

"If I do this... after one year, we divorce and never see each other again? We go back to strangers?"

"Yes," he said, but his hand clenched into a fist at his side.

I picked up the pen. My hand was shaking so violently I could barely write. Elena Rossi. My signature looked small and childish next to his bold, aggressive one.

The second the ink dried, he moved.

He pulled me up from the chair, one hand on my waist, the other still holding my chin, and slammed me against his chest. I could feel his heart beating - fast, hard, not as calm as his face.

"Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Sterling," he growled, his mouth inches from mine, his breath hot on my lips. "You just sold yourself to the devil."

"Alexander - "

I didn't get to finish. His lips crashed onto mine. It wasn't a soft, romantic first kiss. It was possessive. Punishing. Desperate. Like he had been waiting six years to do it and hated himself for wanting it. He kissed me like he wanted to devour me, to brand me, to make sure I never forgot who I belonged to for the next year.

I should have pushed him away. I should have slapped him. I should have remembered every cruel thing he ever said.

Instead, I grabbed his expensive suit jacket and kissed him back. Because despite everything, despite the contract, despite the money, I had been in love with Alexander Sterling since I was sixteen years old.

And I was terrified that one year with him would never be enough.

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