Contractually Inspired

Chapter 2: The Proposal

The elevator ride down to the lobby felt way too short. Elena stared at the digital numbers ticking downward, her chest still tight from what had just happened. She had just insulted Christian Sterling to his face—not just any billionaire, but the man whose name controlled half the business sector in the city.

By all logic, she should've been terrified. Yet, as she stepped out into the cool night air outside the hotel, a strange rush of relief hit her. She had spoken her mind. It was reckless, foolish, and probably cost her any future clients in high-end event planning, but it felt good to say it.

Her phone buzzed violently in her pocket, breaking the moment.

She pulled it out to see a frantic text from her lead coordinator asking where she was, warning her that security was searching for the event team because Mr. Sterling demanded to speak with them immediately.

Elena let out a quiet groan, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead. Great. He probably wanted to lay out how he planned to sue her into oblivion.

Instead of heading back inside, Elena walked around the side of the building toward the valet area. She needed to grab her equipment box from her car, get her final payout, and figure out what to do next before her inbox filled up with termination notices.

The night air was chilly as the autumn breeze swept off the street. She kept her head down, dodging groups of wealthy guests in tuxedos and designer dresses waiting for their cars.

"Looking for an exit, Miss Vance?"

The voice was low and clear, cutting right through the background noise of the street.

Elena froze. She turned around slowly, her eyes moving up from polished dress shoes, past tailored trousers, to the broad shoulders of a white suit jacket.

Christian Sterling stood leaning against a stone pillar near the driveway. The red wine stain was still visible across the white fabric, but he had taken off his bowtie, leaving the top button of his shirt open. He looked less like a corporate figure now and much more like an actual person.

"Mr. Sterling," Elena said, keeping her voice as steady as she could. "If you're going to have me arrested, can it wait until I get my toolkit? Those extension cords belong to my team."

Christian pushed off the pillar, taking a slow step toward her. His gaze was steady, studying her face with a quiet intensity.

"Arrest you?" Christian asked, a slight dry edge in his voice. "That feels a bit unnecessary. Besides, security doesn't really know what to do with you. Neither do my board members."

"I have my moments," Elena muttered, crossing her arms.

"Clearly," Christian replied, stopping a few feet away from her. "You ruined a custom suit, criticized my attitude in front of my investors, and walked away without looking back. Nobody does that, Elena."

Her pulse quickened slightly at the sound of her name. "You know who I am."

"You work for our primary event vendor," he said simply. "I keep track of the people running my events. Which is why I'm standing out here in the cold instead of staying inside."

Elena narrowed her eyes. "And why is that?"

Christian looked at her, his expression sharp and deliberate. "My grandfather left a strict clause in our family trust. If I'm not settled down and engaged by my thirtieth birthday next month, control of Sterling Corp goes to my cousin—a man whose biggest achievement is buying sports cars with corporate funds."

Elena stared at him, confused. "What does that have to do with me? Go hire a model or someone from your social circle."

"Socialites talk to the press and sell stories," Christian said flatly. "I need someone sharp, discreet, and completely unimpressed by my money. Someone who won't hesitate to call me out when I'm being unreasonable." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I need a temporary fiancée, Elena. And you need a way to keep your family bakery from going under."

Elena went still. She had listed the bakery's financial difficulty in her initial vendor forms months ago—a detail buried in paperwork that no CEO should've ever noticed.

"How do you know about that?" she asked, her voice dropping.

"I told you," Christian said quietly, stepping closer until she could feel the cold night air shifting between them. "I pay attention. So what's it going to be? Do we discuss the details in my car, or do you want to go back inside and explain the mess to my board?"