THE BILLIONAIRE'S CONTRACT MARRIAGE

CHAPTER 2

Ella’s phone buzzed against the desk before she’d even taken off her coat.

Ella, where are you? Daniel’s asking for the file.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. Twenty minutes ago, she’d been holding her father’s hand, cold in that hospital bed, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as it might stop between one beep and the next. Now she was supposed to sit here, in this chair, and act as if none of that happened.

She texted back with trembling fingers. On it. Sorry, family matters.

Family matters… as if these two words were enough to explain everything.

She placed the phone down and pressed her hands flat on the desk until they stopped shaking. Around her, the office sounded the same as usual. Printers running, someone typing too fast, a phone ringing over and over again before someone picked it up. None of it slowed down for her. None of it knew.

She sat at her desk and started making a contact list of the people she would call.

Mom’s sister. Aunt Carol.

She hadn’t spoken to her in two years. Her thumb lingered over the call button for like one second before she pressed it anyway.

“Ella? This is a surprise.”

“Hi, Aunt Carol. I’m sorry for calling out of nowhere, but…” her voice uncertain. “It’s Dad. He had a heart attack. He needs surgery, and I don’t have the money. I was wondering if… her voice cracked as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Oh, honey.” A pause. The kind that already told her the answer before the words came. “Things have been tight for us, too. Ray lost his job in March.” I’m sorry i wish I could be of help, but not to worry, if I gather anything, I will send.

Ella thought about the last statement Aunty Carol said. The words struck her hard. She needed the money now, not later.

The line went quiet. Ella lowered the phone and stared at the screen, wishing for a miracle to happen.

Three more calls. Three more times, she got the same answer. A family friend, her mother used to trust. A cousin whose face she barely recognized. Each one gave her the same answer, I’m sorry i wish I could help…

She opened a search bar next, her fingers moving very fast and desperately.

Charities that help pay medical bills.

Emergency heart surgery financial assistance

New York City.

Nonprofit organizations for surgery costs.

Page after page loaded. Applications that took weeks to process. Forms demanding proof of residency she didn't have yet. One fund had already closed for the year, its homepage cheerfully thanking donors for a program that wouldn't reopen until January. She filled out every form anyway, with fingers trembling over the keyboard, attaching whatever scraps of documentation she could find, sending each one into a silence she already suspected would never answer back.

By the time she checked the clock… 4:47 p.m… the last tab had finished loading. Then she saw a response.

DENIED.

Then something broke loose in her.

She dropped her phone on the desk, hard enough that the sound made Priya look over. She stood up so fast that the chair rolled back and hit the wall behind her. She didn't care to stop to check where her phone had landed. She didn't care who saw her right now.

She didn't know where she was going; all she knew was that she had to stop somewhere. She stopped at the stairwell, pushed it open, and started climbing down, her heels slapping against each step, too loud in the empty stairwell. By the seventh step, her legs gave out on her.

She sat down hard, back against the wall, and let it all come out… Ugly and loud in a way, she tried to swallow all of it, pressing her sleeve hard against her mouth, so the sound wouldn't travel past the door. Her whole body gave in; she couldn't control it any longer.

“Get up,” the voice barked at her.

Ella’s head snapped up. She hadn’t even heard anyone come in. Then she saw him… Ethan Blackwood, standing there with his arms crossed, watching her. His tie was still perfectly knotted despite the late hour, not a single hair out of place.

She had never really looked at her boss since she was employed. But with him standing this close, her eyes moved over him before she could stop them… the cool, sharp lines of his face, the rugged stubble along his jaw. He was undeniably handsome. His suit was impeccably tailored, exuding luxury.

He looked completely unbothered by the fact that she was sitting on his stairwell floor, her mascara smudged beneath her eyes, her shoulders still shaking.

She scrambled to her feet too fast, her palm scraping against the cold concrete wall for balance. She smoothed down her skirt with both hands and wiped her face hard with the back of her palms.

I’m sor…sorry, sir, her voice came out shaking. She tried to move past him.

His hand closed around her arm… not rough, but firm enough to stop her from moving.

“This is an office,” his voice was hard. “Not your house. If you feel like crying, you don’t do it here.” He left her hands and adjusted his sleeve.

No softness in his voice at all. He can’t even pretend that he cares.

Ella wasn’t surprised, not really. She’d heard the rumors around the office… he’s got no heart, he acts like ice runs through his veins instead of blood.

What did I expect, she thought. A hug? From him?

“I’m sorry, sir.” She pressed her lips together, forcing her voice to be steady. “It won't happen again.”

Ethan let out a short, humorless laugh, the kind with no actual amusement in it anywhere.

“Sorry,” He said the word as if it tasted bad in his mouth. “That’s all you people know how to say. You do something, and you think ‘sorry’ just fixes it.”

Something in Ella snapped.

“With all due respect…” her voice cracked, tears spilling over even as her spine went rigid with anger, “... just because you’re my boss doesn’t mean I’ll stand here and let you insult me. You think I want to be here crying like I don't have any other thing to do?” Her hands were shaking now, fists at her sides. “My father is in the hospital fighting for his life. He needs surgery, and if I don’t pay as fast as possible, he could die, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to pay for it, and I…”

She stopped herself, furious at her own voice for breaking in front of him.

Ethan didn’t answer right away.

He was watching her differently now, not with anger at being talked back to, something else entirely. A flicker of surprise, he didn’t bother hiding fast enough.

No one spoke to him like that. Not his board members, not his lawyers. People flinched every time his name was mentioned. This girl with puffy eyes from all her crying, mascara streaked down her face, hands still trembling, had just told him off on his stairwell.

“How much?” he said finally.

“Excuse me?”

Ethan didn’t bother looking at her. “You heard me,” he said flatly.

“Why do you…” Ella looked down at her hands and hated that they were still shaking. “Why does that matter to you?”

“Because, I asked.” He didn’t blink. “And I don’t like repeating myself.”

She almost laughed. “Two hundred and eighty-four thousand dollars.” She said the number out bluntly.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked at her for a long moment, observing her.

He had one month left before his grandfather’s company slipped out of his hands for good. He had spent months looking for a woman who wouldn’t complicate things, wouldn’t get attached. He’d been looking for someone convenient.

He hadn’t expected to find fierce.

But fierce, he was beginning to think, was what he needed.

“Marry me,” he said.