Married Into His Millions

Chapter 3

Eliana’s jaw dropped, her hazel eyes widening as if Charles had just suggested they sprout wings and fly off the nearest skyscraper. “Huh…? What do you mean?” she stammered, her voice a cocktail of shock and disbelief.

Charles fixed her with an unreadable stare, his eyes piercing through her like a laser-guided missile. Slowly, he slid his hands from her cheeks—where they’d lingered a moment too long—and shoved them into his pockets, his fingers twitching with nervous energy.

He studied her reaction, searching for cracks in her composure. Inside, his mind churned like a stormy sea. Was this the right move? He wasn’t sure. Desperation clawed at him, a beast born from the crumbling empire he’d spent years building.

The company was teetering on the edge of collapse, and desperate times, as they say, demanded desperate measures. He needed to act fast, or the board would have his head on a silver platter.

“Is this a joke?” Eliana’s voice jolted him out of his mental spiral, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.

Charles arched a brow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Does it look like I’m joking?”

“Wa… wait… hold up!” Eliana threw her hands up, as if warding off an oncoming train. “Why? Do you have some sort of motive against me or what? If this is about the money and properties I stole a few months ago, I’m very sorry. You shouldn’t go this far, Sir!” Her words tumbled out in a frantic plea, confusion painting her face like a watercolor gone wrong.

Charles leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, accusing growl.

“Did you have an ulterior motive before you stole from me? Ahh! Yes, you did. You knew who I was, didn’t you? Thought I wouldn’t care if you swiped that much cash from me, huh?”

Eliana paused, her initial panic morphing into something steadier. She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she locked eyes with him. Secretly—and she’d never admit it—she couldn’t help but admire the way his T-shirt hugged his broad shoulders, the way his jawline could’ve been chiseled by a sculptor with a vendetta.

“What’s your cut?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion. “I believe you wouldn’t just want to marry a girl you barely know.”

“Right now, you should have no choice,” Charles shot back, his gaze trailing down her figure.

Despite himself, he noted she looked oddly cute in her dark, rogue-ish outfit today—those trousers hugging her legs like a second skin, the mysterious vibe she exuded. “You’re a pawn in my hands.”

Before she could retort, he added, “Let’s head somewhere else to talk more comfortably.” His tone left no room for debate, a command wrapped in velvet.

“No, I shall not,” Eliana fired back instantly, planting her feet like a stubborn mule.

A wicked smile curled Charles’s lips. In one swift move, he snaked his left arm around her waist, yanking her close until her chest pressed against his.

Their faces hovered mere inches apart, lips so near she could feel the warmth of his breath. A storm of emotions—rage, curiosity, something dangerously close to attraction—crackled between them like static electricity.

“Oh yes, you will come with me, my little thief,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat.

“Go where?” The furious voice sliced through their heated standoff like a knife. Vee stormed into view, her elegant frame trembling with barely contained rage. “And why are you both curled into each other like you’re lovers?”

The spell broke. Charles released Eliana instantly, stepping back as if burned, while Eliana smoothed her clothes, avoiding Vee’s piercing glare.

Tears shimmered in Vee’s eyes, her voice quaking as she demanded, “Anybody care to explain what’s going on right now?” The pain in her tone was a dagger, twisting with every word.

Charles shot Eliana a look—a silent warning to handle it or he’d spill her secrets. Eliana, catching the signal, stepped forward, her voice softening with feigned regret.

“I’m sorry, Vee. I made a mistake. This won’t work out between us. I apologize for wasting your time.”

Vee’s gaze snapped to Charles, tears streaming down her cheeks like a broken dam.

“You did this,” she accused, her voice thick with venom. “You orchestrated this whole thing to get back at me for turning you down!” She whirled to Eliana, grabbing her hands in a desperate grip.

“No, Elly, don’t do this! How much is he paying you? I’ll double it—scratch that, I’ll triple it! Don’t fall for his schemes!”

Eliana gently pried her hands free, shaking her head with a sad, resolute no. “No, he isn’t paying me. I’m sorry… we’re about to leave.” Her eyes stayed glued to the floor, guilt gnawing at her.

Charles seized the moment, pulling out his phone to text Damian: Leaving with Eliana. Handle Vee. He pocketed the device and turned to Vee, who glared at him with a promise of retribution.

“You’ll pay dearly for this,” she swore, her voice steady despite the tears.

“For ruining my night and stealing my potential partner, I’ll make sure you pay for everything.”

With that, she spun on her heel, her stilettos clicking against the marble floor with the regal fury of a queen banished.

Charles shook his head, a silent dismissal, then turned to Eliana. “Let’s go,” he said calmly, his voice devoid of emotion.

He led the way, opening the car door for her with an unexpected courtesy that left her blinking in surprise. A proud man like him, doing something so gentlemanly? It threw her off balance.

Inside the sleek black sedan, Eliana fumbled with the seatbelt, her fingers slipping against the stiff buckle. Charles watched her struggle for a moment, a faint amusement dancing in his eyes, before leaning over. His cologne—woodsy, rich, and utterly intoxicating—hit her like a wave, and she froze, her breath catching. Eliana, what are you doing? she scolded herself internally.

This is the guy who just threatened you and is dragging you into his mess. Don’t you dare develop a soft spot! But oh, he smelled so good.

Charles clicked the belt into place with ease, pulling back with a teasing grin. “Never worn a seatbelt before?”

“I have,” she huffed, recovering her composure. “It was just too stiff for me.”

He chuckled—a rare sound—and started the engine. The drive was silent, the city’s reddish glow reflecting off the skyscrapers like a blood moon’s embrace. They pulled up to a luxurious guesthouse, its glass facade gleaming under the night sky. Inside, they settled at a quiet table, glasses of red wine glinting in the dim light. Charles broke the silence with the bluntness of a sledgehammer.

“I want us to sign a contract marriage. Get married for a year, then dissolve it.”

Eliana nearly choked on her wine, setting the glass down with a clink. “Wow, that was direct. Well, if we’re being direct, what’s in it for me?”

Charles leaned back, his smirk returning. “Well, starting with the known fact that you’re a thief, I’ll save your ass from jail, of course. And then, there’ll be monetary profit for you.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog. Eliana fell silent, her mind racing back through the jagged edges of her life. It hadn’t always been a bed of roses—more like a patch of thorns she’d crawled through barefoot.

Growing up in that dreary orphanage with her baby sister, Mia, had been a daily battle. No fairy-tale childhood for her—no pony rides or ice cream Sundays. Just cold walls, stricter nuns, and the constant ache of wanting more. When she turned 18 and gained independence, survival became a game of wits and grit. Illegal hustles—petty thefts, forged documents—stained her hands, each one a desperate bid to keep her head above water.

And then there was Mia, her sweet, fragile sister, whose health had been deteriorating for years. Eliana had been fighting to adopt her for three agonizing years, but every application hit a brick wall. Financial stability—the one requirement she couldn’t meet. The orphanage’s half-hearted attempts to manage Mia’s illness only deepened her guilt.

Now, here she sat, across from a man she’d had a reckless one-night stand with five or six months ago, proposing a marriage deal that could erase her troubles in a heartbeat. Twenty-five million dollars. The number danced in her mind like a lifeline.

“You’re quiet, my little thief,” Charles teased, swirling his wine with a smug grin.

Eliana snapped out of her reverie, lifting her chin defiantly. “I want twenty-five million dollars.”

Charles stared at her, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, as if he’d just won a chess match.

“We have a deal then.” He raised his glass, and she mirrored him. Their glasses clinked together, the sound echoing like a pact sealed in blood and ambition.