Contract Desires

The Devil’s Bargain

Riley's fingers tightened around the chilled glass as Jordan Whitmore disappeared into the glittering crowd with Silvia draped on his arm like an expensive fur stole. The terrace doors swung shut behind them, leaving her alone with the hum of the city and the ghost of Jordan's presence lingering in the space between her shoulder blades where his gaze had burned moments before.

She exhaled sharply, tipping her head back to stare at the smattering of stars visible through Seattle's light pollution. What was wrong with her? She'd exchanged maybe fifty words with the man, yet her pulse still hadn't settled. It wasn't just his stupidly handsome face though the way his navy suit hugged his shoulders should be illegal-but the way he'd looked at her, like she was a puzzle he needed to solve.

'There you are.' Olivia's voice startled Riley as her cousin emerged onto the terrace, her designer clutch clutched to her chest. 'T've been looking everywhere. Did you know Jordan Whitmore just asked about you?'

Riley nearly dropped her glass. 'What?'

'He cornered me by the silent auction tables.' Olivia's eyes sparkled with mischief. 'Wanted to know if you were single. I told him you've been married to that bookstore for the past five years.'

A nervous laugh escaped Riley's throat. 'He was just being polite. Did you see the woman he's with? She looks like she stepped out of a Victoria's Secret catalog.'

'Please. Silvia Dawson's been chasing Jordan for years with zero success.' Olivia waved a dismissive hand. 'But you? He actually seemed interested. And do you know what that means?'

Riley groaned. 'Liv, no—

'Potential investors!' Olivia grabbed her wrist.

'The Whitmores practically own half of Seattle.

If Jordan takes an interest in your little bookstore

———

'It's not little,' Riley snapped, then immediately regretted her tone. Olivia meant well, even if her methods made Riley want to hide in the classics section forever. 'Look, can we just go? My feet are killing me

As they collected their coats, Riley couldn't resist one last glance toward the ballroom.

Through the sea of tuxedos and glittering gowns, Jordan stood near the auction podium, his posture rigid as Silvia whispered something in his ear. Their eyes met across the crowded room, just a fleeting connection before a server crossed between them with a tray of champagne flutes.

———

Three days later, Riley was elbow-deep in inventory when the bell above the door jingled.

She didn't look up from the box of new releases she was unpacking. 'Welcome to Carter's Corner.

Let me know if you need help finding anything.'

'Actually, I was hoping you could help me find the owner.'

The familiar baritone sent a jolt down Riley's spine. She whirled around, nearly knocking over a stack of books, to find Jordan Whitmore standing in the middle of her shop, looking impossibly out of place in his tailored charcoal suit. Sunlight streaming through the front windows caught the gold flecks in his blue eyes

—eyes that were currently scanning the shop with what looked like genuine appreciation.

'Mr. Whitmore.' Riley wiped her dusty hands on her jeans, suddenly hyperaware of her messy bun and ink-stained fingers. 'This is... unexpected.'

'Jordan, please.' He stepped closer, the scent of sandalwood and something citrusy wrapping around her. 'I wanted to see your store after our conversation the other night.'

Riley's pulse stuttered. "We barely talked

'Exactly.' His lips quirked in a half-smile that did unfair things to her respiratory system. 'T'd like to remedy that.'

Before she could respond, Jordan reached into his jacket pocket and produced a check. 'For the literacy charity. You seemed passionate about their work.'

Riley accepted the check, then nearly choked when she saw the amount— fifty thousand dollars. 'This is... excessive.'

'Consider it an investment in the future.' His gaze traveled over the original tin ceiling, the antique bookshelves, the reading nook by the front window. 'Places like this are disappearing.

It would be a shame to lose one with so much history.'

Something in his tone made Riley study him more closely. Beneath the polished billionaire exterior, she detected a flicker of was that loneliness? Before she could decipher it, Jordan cleared his throat.

'Riley, I have a proposition for you.'

Her stomach swooped. 'T'm listening.'

Jordan hesitated, an uncharacteristic vulnerability flashing across his features. My grandmother is... persistent about certain family expectations. Specifically, my marital status.'

Riley blinked. 'Okay...'

'I need a wife. Temporarily.' The words hung between them like smoke. 'Six months, maximum. In exchange, I'm prepared to invest substantially in Carter's Corner. Enough to secure its future indefinitely.'

Riley's laughter burst out before she could stop it. 'You can't be serious.'

'Deadly.' Jordan's expression didn't waver. 'T've done my research. Your bank's foreclosure notice arrives next week. Without significant capital, this place

'How do you know about that?' Riley's voice turned sharp. She hadn't told anyone, not even Olivia.

Jordan had the decency to look sheepish. 'Due diligence. The point is, I can solve your problem if you'll help solve mine.'

Riley crossed her arms, suddenly needing the barrier between them. 'Why me? You could have your pick of socialites who'd jump at the chance to be Mrs. Whitmore.'

Jordan's gaze dropped to the turquoise necklace at her throat—her mother's necklace—then back up to her face with an intensity that made her skin prickle. 'Let's just say you remind me of someone!'

A cold realization slithered through Riley's veins. 'Your ex?'

'In appearance only,' Jordan said quickly. 'Lillian and I ended badly. My grandmother would never approve a reconciliation, but she might approve of you.'

Riley's mind raced. It was insane. A marriage of convenience straight out of a Regency novel.

But the check in her hand represented more money than she'd seen in years, and that was just a donation. What could he offer for an actual business investment?

'What would this... arrangement entail?' she asked cautiously.

'Public appearances as a couple. Living together in my penthouse. Convincing my family it's real.' Jordan stepped closer, his voice dropping.

'Separate bedrooms, of course. No expectations beyond the contractual obligations.'

Riley's throat went dry. The thought of sharing a home with this man-watching him move through his daily routine, learning his habits, his tells-sent an unexpected heat through her core.

Which was ridiculous. This was business.

'And after six months?'

'Amicable divorce. You keep whatever investments I've made in the bookstore. No strings.' Jordan studied her face. 'Think about it, Riley. You get to save your family's legacy. All I ask is six months of your time.'

The rational part of her screamed to refuse. But then her gaze drifted to the photo behind the counter— her parents on the shop's opening day, her mother's proud smile as she cut the ribbon.

Carter's Corner was all Riley had left of them.

'What's the catch?' she whispered.

Jordan's lips curved in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. 'Only that you'll have to pretend to like me.'

Riley exhaled sharply. It was madness. But as she looked around the shop- at the shelves her father had built, the register her mother had used for thirty years-she realized she'd already made her decision.

'Draft the contract,' she said, extending her hand.

'But I want full creative control over the bookstore's direction.'

Jordan's fingers closed around hers, warm and firm. 'Deal.'

As they shook on it, Riley couldn't shake the feeling she'd just made a bargain with the devil.

And like any good Faustian pact, she suspected the real price would come due when she least expected it.