Billion Dollar Promises

Chapter 4: The Proposal

Savannah Lane sat at her kitchen counter, the contract from Carrington Industries spread out like a battle map. Her laptop glowed beside it, open to an email from Claire Reynolds: Event Proposal Charity Dinner, Next Friday. The brief was intimidating: a high-profile black-tie gallery for 500 guests where Jaxson Carrington would publicly announce their “relationship” to kick off the fake engagement. Her stomach tightened as she stared at her phone screen. $187.42. That was all she had left. She let out a slow breath and rubbed her forehead. Her head was starting to ache again. Above her, the lightbulb in the ceiling blinked and buzzed like it was about to die, just one more thing falling apart.

Then she looked at the message again. It sounded simple..But with her account nearly empty and bills piling up, it didn’t feel like she had a choice.

Her phone vibrated, showing Claire’s name. Savannah answered, “Yeah?”

“Ms. Lane, we need you at the office. Now.”

Claire’s voice on the phone was cold and straight to the point. No hello, no small talk. Just business.

“Mr. Carrington wants to go over the event details,” she added. “Can you come in?”

Savannah stared at the time on her phone. It was already past 7 p.m. She was still in the same heels she’d put on at 8 that morning. Her feet were sore, her back ached, and her stomach hadn’t stopped growling since noon. She hadn’t had more than coffee and a chocolate bar all day.

Dinner? She hadn’t even thought that far.

She swallowed. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

Savannah glanced at the clock. She had planned to call Marissa Kent and plead to save her biggest client, but Claire’s urgency left no room for debate. “Fine. I’ll be there in an hour.”

She hung up, her heart racing. What am I doing? The anonymous text clawed at her mind, but she pushed them down. She reached for her best blazer, the one with a loose button she kept meaning to sew back on but never did. Then she pulled off her sweats and changed into a black skirt that had seen better days but still passed for “work-ready.” Grabbing her bag, she hurried out the door. Her worn-out sneakers hit the cracked sidewalk as she made her way toward the subway.

Carrington Industries’ headquarters felt colder that day. The glass walls reflected her tense expression as she followed Claire to a smaller meeting room.

Jaxson was already there, leaning against a table, his white shirt open at the collar, dark hair slightly mussed. His blue eyes locked on hers.

“Ms. Lane,” he said, his voice smooth but sharp, like he was testing her. “Glad you could make it.”

“Didn’t have much choice,” she shot back, dropping into a chair with her arms crossed. “What’s this about?”

Claire slid a tablet across the table. A mock-up of an invitation glowed on the screen: Carrington Foundation Annual Event.

“We’re hosting a charity dinner next Friday,” Claire said, “Five hundred guests. Major donors. Media will be there too.”

Savannah’s eyes stayed on the screen, her mind already spinning with logistics.

Then Claire added, “Mr. Carrington wants you to handle everything.”

Jaxson stood up a little straighter, his eyes locked on hers. Like he had already made up his mind.

“At the dinner, we will go public,” he said. “We will make the relationship official. Announce the engagement.”

Savannah stared at him.

He didn’t blink.

“It kills the rumors from that photo,” he added. “People will stop asking questions.

You plan the event. You stand next to me. We act like a couple. Simple.”

Her stomach turned. There was nothing simple about any of this.

Her jaw tightened; the word engagement felt heavy in her chest. “You want me to plan a dinner in eight days?

“You’re quick on your feet,” he said, a faint smirk forming. She bristled, her nails digging into her arms. He’s so damn sure of himself. “That’s a lot of faith for someone you just met. What if I say no?”

“Then your clients keep walking,” Claire cut in, her voice cool and sharp.

Savannah turned toward her, jaw tightening. “We’ve seen what’s happening. This event could change that. Our endorsement means credibility.” Claire wasn’t wrong.

But this? Planning a gala for Jaxson Carrington and pretending to be his fiancée? It felt like stepping into a lion’s den. “And if I mess it up?” she asked quietly. “Your name's on this, not mine.”

“You won’t mess it up,” Jaxson said firmly.

Her cheeks warmed, but she pushed it aside. What’s in it for me?”

“Half a million, like we discussed,” Jaxson said, leaning forward with his hands braced on the table. “And on top of that,” he added, “we’ll back your business. You’ll have clients lining up to work with you.”

“Savannah’s heart raced. Half a million could save her, pay off debts, keep her apartment, rebuild her reputation. But standing next to Jaxson, smiling for the cameras, pretending to love him? Her skin prickled.

“I’m not saying yes,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm in her chest. “But I’ll hear you out. What’s the plan?”

Claire swiped through the tablet, a detailed timeline unfolding on the screen. "Alright, so the venue's set – Plaza Hotel, grand ballroom. You'll handle the logistics: vendors, catering, décor, and media. We've got a budget and a team to support you. The big moment is at 9 p.m. when Mr Carrington gives his speech. You two will make the announcement. You two pose for photos. Smile, hold hands and look in love.”

Savannah’s throat tightened. “And everyone just believes we’re… what? In love?”

“They will if you play it right,” Jaxson said, his eyes steady on hers, making her shift in her seat. “People want a fairy tale. We give them one.”

She snorted, crossing her arms tighter. “Fairy tales don’t usually start with spilled champagne and a viral fight.”

His smirk widened, and for a moment, she saw something warm, almost genuine. “Maybe ours does.”

Claire’s lips twitched, but she stayed all business. “We’ll need you onsite daily. Can you start tomorrow?”

Savannah nodded, her mind racing with logistics. Eight days. Five hundred guests. No pressure. She stood, ready to leave, but Jaxson’s voice stopped her.

“Savannah.” He said her name as if it meant something, and her heart did that stupid skip again. “This could be good for both of us. Don’t overthink it.”

She met his gaze, chin lifted. “I don’t trust easy Mr. Carrington. Don’t expect me to start with you.”

He held her stare, unyielding. “Noted.”

The next week was a blur. Savannah threw herself into the event, working from a temporary office at Carrington Industries. She coordinated with caterers, argued with florists over budgets, and dealt with a lighting crew that kept missing deadlines. Every morning, she arrived with coffee and a scowl, her laptop loaded with spreadsheets. Every night, she collapsed on her couch, her head spinning with details and doubts. Can I pull this off?

Jaxson appeared more than she expected, stopping by to check on progress. His presence felt like a current she couldn’t ignore. They clashed over details, he wanted gold accents, while she pushed for silver; he insisted on a string quartet, she argued for a jazz band but the arguments sparked something else. His hand brushed hers when they reviewed seating charts, and his low laugh when she snapped at a late vendor made her pause. She caught herself watching him, noting the way his jaw tightened when he took a call and how his eyes softened when she cracked a rare joke.

He caught her staring once, his eyebrow raised. “ Any problem?”

“Nope,” she lied, turning back to her laptop, her cheeks hot. Get it together.

Challenges piled up. A shipment of table linens went missing, forcing Savannah to scramble for replacements. A tabloid ran a story claiming she was “using” Jaxson, and Marissa Kent called to say she was “monitoring” her work. Each setback made her chest tighten, but she pushed through, driven by the need to prove herself. Jaxson’s team watched her closely, but she caught Claire nodding once, impressed, when she sweet-talked a vendor into an overnight delivery.

The night finally came. The Plaza Hotel’s ballroom looked so elegant, polished, and perfect. Savannah stood just off to the side, behind the heavy curtain. Her black dress fit like it was made for her, but she could barely breathe.

She had gone eight days with barely any sleep. A million things could’ve gone wrong. But somehow, everything came together. Out in the ballroom, guests sipped champagne, laughed politely, and music floated through the air, soft and classy.

Savannah’s eyes scanned the room, her heart beating hard.

This has to work, she told herself. Everything’s riding on this.

Jaxson took the stage. His tuxedo was sharp; his presence commanding. The crowd hushed as he spoke, his voice steady and charming.

“Tonight’s about giving back,” he began, his voice smooth, practiced. “But it’s also about something personal.”

He paused. Just long enough for people to lean in. Then his eyes shifted to the side of the room, where Savannah stood behind the curtain.

Her stomach flipped.

“I’m proud to say I’ve found someone special,” he said, eyes still locked on hers. “Savannah Lane… would you join me?”

Everything went still.

She felt a hundred faces turn before she even moved. Her feet were frozen but her name had already been said. There was no turning back.

Her breath caught as quiet murmurs rippled through the crowd.

She stepped out from behind the curtain, each click of her heels louder than the last in her own ears. Her knees trembled, but somehow her steps stayed steady.

Jaxson reached out, and she took his hand.

It was warm and steady. Reassuring in a way she hadn’t expected. And for just a split second, it felt real.

The cameras started flashing.

People clapped, smiled and whispered.

She looked out at the room, the sea of faces and lights. Then she turned to him, forcing a smile as her heart pounded in her chest like it was trying to escape.

Backstage, just after the applause died down, Jaxson caught her by the arm and pulled her aside.

His voice was low, quiet enough that no one else could hear. “You nailed it,” he said. “The event, the announcement. It was all perfect.”

Savannah crossed her arms, still feeling the adrenaline buzzing under her skin. Her heart hadn’t slowed down since she walked out there.

She looked up at him, face calm but voice sharp. “Don’t get used to it,” she said. “This is business. That’s all.”

Jaxson held her gaze for a second, unreadable.

His eyes searched hers, too intense. “Is it?”

Before she could respond, Claire approached, her expression tense. “Mr. Carrington, a word. The board’s asking questions about the announcement. They think it’s a stunt.”

“It is a stunt,” Savannah muttered, but Jaxson’s jaw tightened, his gaze shifting to Claire.

Then he turned back to Savannah. His voice softened. “You did well tonight. Don’t forget that.”

She gave a small nod, her throat tight, suddenly unsure what to say.

He held her gaze for a second longer then walked off with Claire.

But the words hung there. A stunt.

She had known what she was walking into. Knew it from the moment she agreed to the deal.

But still… the way Jaxson looked at her tonight, the way her chest tightened every time he said her name

It didn’t feel fake.

And that scared her more than anything written in the contract