THE 365-DAY CONTRACT BRIDE

THE BOARD MEETING

Chapter 3: The Board Meeting

"Stand still."

I stood in the middle of a dressing room the size of my old apartment while 3 stylists circled me.

The dress was red. Silk. $200,000 according to the tag Mrs. Chen made sure I saw.

"It matches Mr. Hawthorne's tie," the stylist said.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't recognize me.

Hair up. Diamonds at my throat. Red lips.

"Mrs. Hawthorne," Mrs. Chen said. "The car is here."

---

The Hawthorne Charity Gala.

200 people. Billionaires. CEOs. News cameras.

Damian was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Black tux. That red tie.

His eyes dragged over me. Once. Twice.

"You clean up well," he said. Voice flat.

"Thanks," I whispered.

He offered his arm. "Remember the rules. Smile. Don't talk to press. Stay with me."

"Got it."

We walked in together.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

"MR. HAWTHORNE! WHO IS THIS?"

"IS THIS THE NEW WIFE?"

"DAMIAN, OVER HERE!"

Damian's hand went to the small of my back. Possessive. "This is my wife, Aria Hawthorne."

My wife.

The words felt like fire.

---

Halfway through dinner.

"Well well well."

A woman in white. Perfect hair. Perfect everything.

Victoria Lane.

Damian's ex-fiancee. From the tabloids.

"Damian," she purred. "And who is this?"

"Aria," Damian said. "My wife."

Victoria looked me up and down. "The charity case from the diner? How cute."

The table went quiet.

I felt my face burn. "Excuse me?"

"I said it's cute," Victoria smiled. "How desperate you must've been to take a contract. Oh wait, everyone knows about the contract, right?"

Gasps.

Damian's jaw ticked. "Victoria."

"What?" she said. "I'm just concerned. For the board. Is this really the image we want?"

Damian stood. Grabbed my hand.

"Come here."

He pulled me around the table. Past 200 people. And sat down in the main chair.

Then he pulled me onto his lap.

Right there. In front of everyone.

The room went dead silent.

Damian wrapped an arm around my waist. His other hand lifted my chin.

"Let me be very clear," he said. Loud. So everyone could hear. "This is my wife. Mrs. Hawthorne. Anyone who has a problem with her has a problem with me. And with Hawthorne Global."

He looked down at me. Gray eyes burning.

"Say it," he murmured, just for me.

"What?" I whispered.

"Say you're my wife."

My heart was pounding. "I'm... I'm your wife."

"Good girl."

Then he kissed me.

Not soft. Not sweet.

Possessive. Claiming. Right there in front of the board, the press, his ex.

When he pulled back, he looked at Victoria. "Any other questions?"

Victoria was red. She walked out.

The entire room started clapping.

---

Car ride home.

Silent.

My lips were still tingling. My hands were shaking.

"That was—" I started.

"Necessary," Damian cut in. Staring out the window.

"Was it?" I asked. "The kiss?"

He finally looked at me. "Do you have a problem with it, Mrs. Hawthorne?"

"No," I whispered. "I don't."

Something flashed in his eyes.

He reached over. Tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered.

"Good," he said. "Because on Day 3, rule number 6 is already a problem."

The car stopped at the estate.

He got out first. Held the door for me.

As we walked inside, he leaned down to my ear.

"Sleep in the bed, Aria. Not on the edge. In the middle."

Then he walked away.

Leaving me breathless in a $200K dress.

Rule number 6 was definitely in trouble.