Elena POV
I woke up with my head pounding like someone was hitting it with a hammer from the inside and my mouth tasted like something had died in it, and when I opened my eyes the room was too bright and nothing looked familiar.
This wasn't my bedroom.
I sat up too fast and the room spun and nausea rolled through me, and I pressed my hand to my mouth trying not to be sick.
Where was I?
The room was massive and expensive looking with furniture that probably cost more than my entire house, and there was sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows showing a view of London I'd never seen before.
I looked down at myself and realized I was still wearing yesterday's clothes, wrinkled and stained, and that's when I saw it.
A ring on my left hand.
Gold band, simple, sitting on my ring finger like it belonged there.
I stared at it and my heart started pounding because I didn't remember putting on a ring, didn't remember buying a ring, didn't remember anything after walking into that bar last night.
The bar.
The debt.
The man who'd offered me money.
Oh God.
I tried to pull the ring off but my hands were shaking too badly and it wouldn't come over my knuckle, and panic was rising in my chest making it hard to breathe.
The door opened and a man walked in carrying coffee and I recognized him immediately even through my hangover.
Adrian Blackwell.
The man from the bar.
"You're awake," he said. "How do you feel?"
"Where am I?" My voice came out rough. "What happened?"
"You're in a hotel, the Dorchester specifically, and what happened is you got married last night." He set the coffee on the bedside table. "To me."
"That's not funny." I looked at the ring again. "This isn't funny."
"It's not a joke." He pulled out a folded paper from his jacket. "This is our marriage certificate, legally filed as of midnight last night."
I took the paper with shaking hands and unfolded it and there it was in black and white: Adrian Blackwell and Elena Hart, married, witnessed by Marcus Chen and some man whose name I couldn't read.
"No." I shook my head. "No, I didn't get married, I would remember getting married."
"You were very drunk." Adrian sat down in a chair across from the bed. "You signed the contract and then we had the ceremony and then you passed out."
"I don't remember any of that." I looked at the certificate again. "I don't remember signing anything."
"You did though, and your debt has been paid." He pulled out his phone and showed me a bank transfer. "Forty thousand pounds to your account at 12:23 AM."
I stared at the screen and the numbers were real and the transfer was real and apparently I'd sold myself to this stranger for money. "This can't be happening."
"It is happening and it's legally binding." He put his phone away. "You should read the full contract now that you're sober."
"Where is it?"
He pulled out another document, much longer than the marriage certificate, and handed it to me. "Take your time."
I started reading and the words made sense individually but together they painted a picture I didn't want to see: eighteen months of marriage, living together, attending events together, maintaining the appearance of a real relationship.
Five thousand pounds per month.
No dating other people.
Complete discretion.
I kept reading and got to Section 7 and my stomach dropped.
"Pregnancy clause?" I looked up at him. "What is this?"
"Exactly what it says." Adrian's voice was calm. "In the event of pregnancy during the marriage term, any resulting child becomes my legal responsibility and custody will be determined by me."
"You're saying if I get pregnant the baby belongs to you?" I was standing now even though my legs felt weak. "That's insane."
"It's a precaution." He didn't look bothered. "We're going to be living together, things happen, this protects both of us."
"It protects you, it doesn't protect me at all." I threw the contract at him. "This is s*****y, you're buying me."
"I'm paying you for a service and you agreed to the terms." He picked up the contract. "Your signature is right here."
"I was drunk, that doesn't count."
"It counts legally and more importantly your debt is paid." He stood up. "Which means if you breach this contract now, you owe me eighty thousand pounds plus damages."
The number hit me like a slap. "What?"
"Section 12, termination clause, if you break the contract before the eighteen months are up you pay back double what I've given you plus any damages I incur." Adrian walked toward the door. "So you can leave right now if you want but you'll be leaving with even more debt than you started with."
"You can't do this." I was backing away from him. "You can't trap me like this."
"I already did and you signed the paperwork agreeing to it." He stopped at the door. "I'm not a monster, Elena, I'm just a man who needed a wife and found someone willing to be one."
"I wasn't willing, I was drunk and grieving and you took advantage of that." Tears were running down my face. "You know that's what you did."
"I know I offered you a way out of your debt and you took it." His voice got harder. "Now you can honor that agreement or you can run and make your situation worse, your choice."
I looked at the ring on my finger and the contract in his hands and the door he was blocking, and I realized I had no choice at all because eighty thousand pounds might as well have been eight million for all my ability to pay it.
"I hate you," I said.
"That's fine, you don't have to like me, you just have to play your part." Adrian's phone rang and he pulled it out. "I need to take this."
He answered and his whole posture changed, got stiffer somehow. "Father."
I watched him listen to whoever was on the other end and his jaw tightened.
"When?" he asked. Then after a pause: "How long?"
More listening and his hand gripped the phone harder.
"I understand." His eyes moved to me. "Yes, she's here, I'll bring her tonight."
He hung up and looked at me and something in his expression had shifted. "We have a problem."
"What kind of problem?" I wiped my face. "Bigger than you trapping me in a fake marriage?"
"My father has a brain tumor, he's dying, and he has two months to live." Adrian put his phone back in his pocket. "He wants to meet you tonight along with my brother James and his fiancée."
"Why?"
"Because he needs to believe our marriage is real or everything I did this for becomes worthless." Adrian walked back toward me. "He said if he's not convinced the marriage is genuine after two months, everything goes to James."
"So you need me to convince your dying father we're actually in love?" I laughed but it came out bitter. "That's impossible."
"It has to be possible because if we fail I lose everything and you're still trapped in this contract for eighteen months with nothing to show for it." Adrian stopped in front of me. "So we're going to dinner tonight and we're going to convince my father and my brother that we're happily married."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you breach the contract and owe me eighty thousand pounds." His voice was flat. "Your choice."
I looked at him and hated that he was right, hated that I had no real choice, hated everything about this situation I'd drunkenly signed myself into.
"When's dinner?" I asked.
"Seven o'clock." He headed for the door again. "I'll have appropriate clothes sent up and a car will pick us up at six-thirty."
"Wait." I called after him. "Your father is dying and you need to prove our marriage is real in two months?"
"That's correct."
"And if we don't convince him?"
"Then everything goes to James including the company and the estate and everything I've spent my life building." Adrian opened the door. "So you better be a good actress."
He left and I stood there in the hotel room with a ring I didn't remember getting and a contract that enslaved me for eighteen months and the knowledge that I was now part of some dying man's test.
I looked at my phone and saw the transfer confirmation, forty thousand pounds sitting in my account, and I knew I couldn't give it back even if I wanted to because I'd already used it to pay the bank.
I was trapped.
Completely, totally trapped.
And tonight I had to pretend to be in love with a man I'd met twelve hours ago or lose everything I'd sold myself for.