Sign Here, Mrs. Hart

Chapter2

Xavier’s POV

Love was for men with time to waste. I had thirty days, a board of directors circling like vultures, and a dead man's lawyer telling me I needed to fall in love on a deadline. I resisted the urge to slam my hands on the table and settled for straightening my already perfect cuffs instead, pacing the length of the room.

Across the table sat Arthur, my grandfather’s lawyer, apparently unbothered by my rising temper. I’d spent years studying subjects I hated just to be a better fit for this position. I’d been a good grandson, helped this company spread its wings—and now, after Grandpa’s passing, I had to sit here and listen to this? Fight my cousin Nolan, who knew nothing about how a company actually worked, for power that was already mine?

“Just read the damn thing, Arthur,” I snapped. “I have a merger meeting in twenty minutes, and I doubt my grandfather spent eighty years building this empire just so I could waste my morning on poetry and sentiment.”

Arthur didn’t look up, adjusting his spectacles with an unreadable expression. “It isn’t poetry, Xavier. It’s a clause—and your grandfather was very specific about the transition of power.”

“The power is already mine,” I countered, leaning over the table to stare him down. “I’ve tripled our margins in three years. I’m the only one capable of holding this chair. Nolan couldn’t manage a lemonade stand, let alone a multinational empire.”

Arthur sighed and finally opened the folder. “Section four, paragraph B. To officially vest the title of CEO, along with the accompanying majority shares, the heir must demonstrate stability and commitment to the Hart legacy through the sanctity of marriage.”

I froze, hoping I’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

“You must be married, Xavier,” Arthur said, as though explaining something to a child. “And you must remain married for a minimum of twelve consecutive months. If you aren’t wed within thirty days of the reading of this will, controlling interest reverts to your cousin, Nolan Miller, who will then go through the same protocols.”

A bitter laugh tore out of me as I leaned even closer. “This is a joke. A dying man’s prank. My grandfather knew exactly how I felt about marriage. He watched what it did to my parents—two decades of turning our house into a war zone. He knew I tried, once. But love is a scam sold to people too idle to have a real purpose.”

“It wasn’t a joke to him,” Arthur said, sliding the document toward me. “He wanted you to have a life outside these walls. He was afraid you were becoming a machine.”

I snatched the paper and scanned it myself. My chest tightened as I confirmed every word Arthur had said. There was no way around this.

“Thirty days?” I hissed, slamming it back onto the table. “He expects me to find a wife in a month? I haven’t taken a woman to dinner in years. How could he do this to me?”

“Then I suggest you start making reservations.” Arthur began gathering his things. “Nolan is already celebrating, Xavier. He’s been telling people he’ll be moving into your office by month’s end. He’s just waiting for you to fail.”

The mention of Nolan made my blood boil. I watched Arthur leave, my chest tight, resisting the urge to put my fist through the wall.

I sacrificed everything for that man, and this is how he repays me? I was the one who stood by him through the hospital stays while Nolan wandered the city without a purpose, and this is the thanks I get? I stormed out of the boardroom and didn’t speak to anyone until I was back behind my own door.

I sat at my desk and buried my face in my hands, the silence pressing in. I had no love life to speak of—I’d given my entire life to this company. Not since my heart and trust were shattered, years ago, had I let anyone close.

“Dammit!” I swept the contents of my desk onto the floor. They crashed against the wall, but it didn’t help. I couldn’t lose Hart Global. It was my identity, the one thing I’d ever truly wanted, and I was so close to securing it for good. If I had to buy myself a wife to keep Nolan out, then that’s exactly what I’d do.

I let out a slow breath and picked up my phone, fingers hovering over the screen. I needed someone I could trust to pull this off and keep it quiet. Marcus. He was the only one who could help me now.

“Marcus,” I said the moment the line connected, skipping the greeting. “I need a favor. A big one.”

“Xavier? You sound like you’re about to jump off a cliff,” Marcus said, his tone light but wary.

“I need a wife.” The words tasted bitter. “I don’t care who she is or where she comes from. She needs to be presentable, she needs to be quiet, and she needs to do exactly what I say.”

A long silence followed. “A wife? Are you serious? You haven’t looked at a woman since the Vivian disaster.”

“Dead serious. I have thirty days to put a ring on someone’s finger, or I lose the company to Nolan. I need someone who needs money badly enough to play the part for a year. No romance—just a business partner willing to act the role.” I couldn’t quite believe I was saying it.

“Desperate, huh?” Marcus mused. “Shouldn’t be hard, in this economy. But Xavier—this is a dangerous game.”

“Everything I do is dangerous,” I snapped, rubbing my temple as a headache crept in. “Just find me someone willing to do anything for the money and keep her mouth shut. That’s all I need. A deal.”