The Billionaire's Bargain

3• Ties That Bind

The morning after our conversation, the reality of what I’d agreed to hit me like a freight train. I couldn’t focus on anything—my mind kept replaying the deal over and over again. Marrying Asher Blackwood. For money. For my family’s gallery. What kind of person did that make me?

I stared at the phone in my hand, the screen flashing with Asher’s name, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. The weight of what I’d promised hung heavy, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. But when I finally hit ‘Accept,’ I knew I was already too deep into this.

“Emilia,” Asher’s voice was low, controlled, the way it always was. “We need to meet.”

I was already sitting at my studio, the smell of fresh paint in the air, but I didn’t feel like painting. Not today.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said, trying to sound firm. “We made a deal, but I’m not sure about this marriage. I don’t—”

“You don’t have to say it,” Asher cut me off, his voice a little softer, but still unyielding. “We both know why you agreed. But it’s happening, whether you like it or not.”

“I didn’t think you’d be this—” I struggled to find the words. “Cold about it.”

“I’m not cold, Emilia,” he said, his voice suddenly warmer, though still detached. “I’m practical. We’re not getting married because of some love story. This is business, and you know that. Let’s meet in an hour. We’ll talk details.”

“I’m not sure if I’m ready for this,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice.

“You don’t have to be ready,” he said firmly. “But you need to show up.”

I bit my lip, feeling the sting of his words. There was no way out, was there?

“Fine,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “I’ll see you then.”

I didn’t hang up right away. I stared at the phone screen for a few seconds, the call still open, but neither of us said anything.

And then, without warning, Asher’s voice broke through the silence. “Emilia, don’t overthink it.”

But how could I not? How could I not question everything about this—about him, about me, about us?

When I arrived at the office building where Asher worked, I had no idea what to expect. The sleek, cold glass doors opened into a lobby that screamed money and power—something I’d never been a part of, no matter how much I tried to tell myself that this was just a means to an end.

Asher was waiting for me in his office, sitting behind a massive desk, wearing a tailored suit that made him look every bit the billionaire he was. His posture was impeccable, the way he sat with his legs crossed as if he owned the entire world. And maybe he did.

"Emilia," he greeted me without standing, his gaze unwavering as I walked in.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, trying to stay composed. "What are we doing here, Asher?"

He gave me a small, knowing smile, his eyes flickering with something that made me uneasy. "You’re here to discuss the wedding."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "A wedding? We’re really doing this?"

"Yes, we are," he said, his voice unshaken, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "It’s simple. We sign a contract, you marry me, and you get everything you’ve been working for. Your family’s gallery stays afloat, and your future is secure."

I opened my mouth to protest but stopped when I saw the look in his eyes. He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t even pretending to care about my opinion.

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand the stakes. I did. But I wasn’t prepared to feel so... trapped.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” I said, my voice suddenly small. “You don’t even know me, Asher. This isn’t just some... deal.”

“Of course it is,” he replied, leaning forward, his hands clasped together. “But it’s also about getting what we both want. You’re doing it for your family. And I’m doing it to... protect what’s mine.”

“You don’t sound like a man who wants a wife,” I said, trying to mask the bitterness that bubbled up inside me.

“I don’t,” he said flatly, his gaze never leaving mine. “But I need one. And you need me.”

I bristled at the way he said it, like it was that simple. “I’m not a thing to be needed,” I shot back, my voice low.

He paused, his gaze softening for a brief moment. “No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re a means to an end. But that doesn’t mean you don’t matter.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and full of unspoken tension.

“You don’t have to say things like that,” I whispered, feeling a twist in my chest.

“Then stop making it so complicated,” he said, his tone turning harsh again. “We both know why we’re doing this. Let’s not pretend it’s anything else.”

I exhaled, trying to calm the sudden rush of emotions. “I don’t know if I can just turn off my feelings like that. I don’t want to fall into something I can’t get out of.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, his eyes darkening slightly. “Just stick to the plan, and we’ll be fine.”

“And if I can’t?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His jaw tightened, but his eyes never left mine. “Then you walk away. No one’s forcing you to stay.”

But I wasn’t sure anymore whether I could walk away, even if I wanted to.

A moment of silence passed, thick and suffocating. And for a brief moment, I caught myself staring at him—really staring at him—and I couldn’t deny that the attraction was still there. Despite everything. Despite the deal, despite the coldness between us, despite all the reasons I had to run away.

He shifted in his seat, breaking the spell. "So, Emilia, are you in or out?"

My chest tightened as I looked at him, wondering if I was already too deep into this to walk away.

"Fine," I said finally, my voice steady but strained. "I'm in."

His eyes gleamed, but there was something darker in them. "Good. Then let’s make it official."