THE BILLIONAIRE’S BARGAIN

CHAPTER 8: THE INTERVIEW

The morning show was called Sunrise America, and Maya wanted to vomit.

She sat in a green room that smelled like coffee and panic. Julian sat beside her, immaculate in a charcoal suit. He'd been quiet since the piano. Since he'd walked away. They hadn't spoken about it.

"Five minutes," a producer said, peeking in. "Julian, they're going to ask about the engagement. Keep it light. Maya, just smile and agree with everything."

"Smile and agree," Maya muttered. "My two favorite things."

Julian's hand found hers on the couch. He didn't look at her. Just held it.

"Whatever I say," he murmured, "follow my lead."

"Should I be worried?"

Julian finally looked at her. The gray eyes were soft. Almost tender. "Always."

They walked onto the set. Bright lights. A host with teeth too white. The audience clapped because they'd been told to clap.

"Julian Voss!" the host beamed. "America's most eligible billionaire — and now off the market! Introduce us to the lucky lady."

Julian pulled Maya closer. His arm around her waist felt real. Warm. Protective.

"This is Maya Chen," he said. His voice was different here. Softer. "She owns a flower shop in Brooklyn. She sells me peonies I don't need and insults my taste in wine. I proposed three times before she said yes."

The audience laughed. Maya stared at him. Three times?

"Three times?" the host echoed. "Julian Voss got rejected?"

"Twice," Julian said, and the crowd ate it up. "The first time, I did it over dinner. Too impersonal. The second time, I sent flowers. She hates roses."

"I don't hate them," Maya said, finding her voice. "I just think they're lazy."

More laughter. Julian squeezed her waist. Good girl.

"And the third time?" the host asked.

Julian turned to Maya. The cameras were rolling. Millions of people watching. But Julian looked at her like they were alone.

"The third time," he said, "it was raining. She was in her shop, wearing paint-stained overalls, arguing with a delivery man about wilted hydrangeas. I walked in with no plan, no ring, no speech. I just... couldn't leave without her."

The studio went quiet.

Maya's breath caught. Because it was close to the truth. The rain. The shop. The way he'd looked at her like she was the only thing in the room.

"She told me to come back when I had my head on straight," Julian continued, his eyes never leaving hers. "So I came back every day for a month. Until she realized I wasn't leaving."

The host sighed. "That's... actually romantic, Julian."

"She's the only real thing in my life," Julian said. "Everything else is just numbers. She's... she's the reason I want to be better."

Maya felt tears prick her eyes. Stop it, she told herself. It's fake. It's all fake.

But Julian's hand on her waist wasn't fake. The tremor in his voice wasn't fake.

The interview ended. They walked off set. Julian's hand stayed on her back.

"That was good," she said, her voice shaky. "Very believable."

Julian stopped. Turned her to face him. "Maya—"

"Julian!"

Victoria Ashford stood in the green room doorway. In a cream suit. Perfect hair. A smile like a knife.

"Victoria," Julian said, his voice dropping to ice. "How did you get backstage?"

"I know people." She walked in, heels clicking. "Wonderful interview. Very touching. Almost made me believe it."

"Believe what?" Maya asked.

"That you're actually engaged." Victoria pulled out her phone. Swiped. Showed them the screen. "See, I hired someone. A private investigator. Very discreet. And guess what he found?"

Maya's blood turned cold.

A photo of the contract. Blurry. But readable. Contract of Engagement. Thirty days. Two hundred thousand dollars.

"You signed a deal," Victoria said sweetly. "How... transactional. How very Julian."

Julian stepped in front of Maya. "Leave. Now."

"Or what? You'll ruin me?" Victoria laughed. "You don't have time, Julian. Because in twenty-four hours, this photo goes to every tabloid in America. Unless..." She looked at Maya. "Unless she walks away. Tonight. No money. No shop. Just gone. And I keep my mouth shut."

The room spun. Maya grabbed Julian's arm.

"Don't listen to her," Julian said. He was shaking. "We'll fight this. I'll call legal. I'll—"

"You'll what?" Victoria asked. "Buy another building? Buy silence? You can't buy your way out of this one, Julian. Not when the truth is this ugly."

Maya looked at the photo. At the contract. At the lie she'd been living.

Then she looked at Julian. The man who'd played piano at 3 AM. Who'd said she was the only real thing in his life. Even if it was for show.

"Give me the phone," Maya said.

Victoria blinked. "What?"

"Your phone. Give it to me."

Victoria hesitated. Then handed it over.

Maya deleted the photo. Then she threw the phone at the wall. It shattered.

"Oops," Maya said. "Clumsy me."

Victoria's face turned purple. "You little—"

"Get out," Maya said. Her voice was steady. Strong. "Before I tell security that Julian's unstable ex-fiancée is harassing us. And trust me, Victoria? I can cry on cue. I've had a lot of practice this week."

Julian stared at her. Then slowly a real smile spread across his face. Not the interview smile. Not the boardroom smile. Something new. Something dangerous.

"You heard her," Julian said. "Get out."

Victoria stormed out, cursing.

Maya stood in the green room, breathing hard, surrounded by broken glass and a fake engagement that suddenly felt very, very real.