Sign Here, Mrs. Hart

Chapter 4

Harper’s POV

“Urgh craap...” I groaned, resting my head against the small table in the hotel room, a bottle of cheap alcohol in my hand. It was the only thing keeping me from completely unraveling.

I dialed Eric’s number for the twentieth time, my hands shaking, even though I already knew the answer. Busy. “Pick up,” I whispered, my voice raw from crying. “Please, Eric. Just tell me it’s a joke.”

I already knew it wasn’t. I’d seen the zeros in my bank account with my own eyes.

My phone buzzed, and for one heartbeat, my whole body lifted. I didn’t even check the caller ID before pressing it to my ear. “Eric?”

“Miss Vance?” The voice was cold—nothing like Eric. “This is Mr. Henderson, from the collections department at National Trust.”

I stiffened, pressing my forehead against my knees, eyes shut. “Mr. Henderson. I’m—I’m working on the payment. I just need a little more time.”

“You’ve had two years of ‘more time,’ Miss Vance,” he snapped. “The grace period is over. If the funds aren’t in our clearing account by the end of the month, we’ll move forward with seizing the Vance estate. Consider this your final warning.”

The line went dead. A whimper escaped me, and I nearly slid off the chair.

It had been three days. Three days since Eric robbed me, and since the loan sharks came calling. I had less than an hour left before I lost a finger for it. I’d thought I had some kind of plan, but the problems kept stacking up.

With the day job gone, all I had left was the night shift, waitressing at a bar—and even that barely covered the basics. Sore as I was from the beating, I’d dragged myself in yesterday hoping my manager might lend me something. Instead, I’d gotten harassed for my trouble.

There was only one option left: run. So I’d checked into this hotel, hoping it would buy me time to reach Eric and keep me hidden from the men hunting me.

A loud knock cut through my thoughts, and I stiffened. My heart leapt into my throat as I scrambled to my feet, backing away. How did they find me? My breath came in short, panicked gasps.

“Who is it?” I called, my voice trembling.

“Someone who can help you,” a deep, calm voice answered from the other side.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. It wasn’t the gravelly voice of the loan sharks. I crept to the door and pulled it open and froze, for an entirely different reason.

Standing on the threshold was a man I’d never expected to see again. The same man I’d cursed a hundred times over for how he’d treated me, simply because I refused to flatter him. My former boss. Mr. Hart. He stood there, tall and immaculate, dark hair perfectly styled, those cold eyes pinning me in place.

“Mr. Hart?” I managed, biting back a curse. “How the hell did you find me? Why are you here?”

“Miss Vance.” Xavier Hart gave a small nod, then stepped past me into the room without waiting to be asked, his gaze sweeping the space before landing on my drink. “A shame. You used to have such an eye for fine lines and structure. Now you can’t even pick a drink that won’t leave you blind by morning.”

“How dare you,” I hissed, closing the distance despite my shaking legs. “You show up after three years of silence just to insult me? I don’t care what brought you here—get out. You have ten seconds before I call the police.”

I was entitled to my anger. He was partly responsible for the mess I was in. If he hadn’t cut my internship short, I might have landed a better job with better pay.

“You won’t call the police.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folder, holding it out to me. “Because you need me. You need sixty thousand dollars, right now.”

My brows knit together. Before I could respond, he went on. “And not just that, you’ll need up to three hundred thousand within the next three weeks.”

“How do you know that?” I asked, stunned.

“I make it my business to know everything about my investments,” he said. “And right now, Harper, you’re a very high-risk investment I’m willing to take on. Under certain conditions.”

“I’m not an investment,” I spat, though my hand trembled as I took the folder. I opened it, struggling to focus through blurred vision. A legal contract. Words like marriage and beneficiary jumped out at me, but none of it made sense.

“What is this?”

“A trade.” He crossed his arms. “I need a wife for a year someone who understands this is business, not romance. You need money to save your finger and your father’s estate. I need a pretend wife for twelve months. It’s a perfect deal.”

My jaw dropped. “You want me to… marry you? For a year? For money?”

The nerve of this man. I was still grieving what Eric had done to me, and he was proposing this?

“It’s simple, Harper. You play the devoted Mrs. Hart in public. We live under the same roof to satisfy the lawyers. In return, I pay off every cent of your father’s debt and provide a generous stipend. After twelve months, we divorce quietly, and you walk away with full pockets.”

I studied his face, infuriatingly handsome, infuriatingly arrogant. A man who acted only in his own interest, who I was certain harbored some deep contempt for women. And here he was, without a hint of an apology, asking me to be his prisoner for a year.

“You’re insane,” I whispered, my temper rising.

“I’m determined,” he corrected. “You hate me....which is exactly why this works. You won’t try to make it real, and you certainly won’t catch feelings. You’re the only woman I know who isn’t chasing a fairy tale with me.”

I laughed bitterly at his nerve. Crumpling the contract, I threw it at his face; it bounced off his chest instead. “Take your money and get out!” I shouted. “I’d rather watch the estate burn, and lose every finger I have, than spend another minute in a room with you. You’re an egotistical bastard, and I hope you rot in hell.”

He didn’t flinch. He glanced down at the crumpled paper by his feet, then back at me with a look that told me he’d expected exactly this. “You’re making a mistake, Harper,” he said. “The bank won’t be as patient as I am. Neither will your loan shark.”

“I don’t care!” I screamed, jabbing a finger at the door. “Get out—”

The door burst open before I could finish. My heart stopped as the three men from the store stormed in.

“Well, well, well… did you really think you could outsmart us by hiding in some hotel, Harper?” the leader growled, stepping inside with a menacing look.

“I..no, I wasn’t trying to,,,”

“Where’s our money?” he bellowed, advancing on me. I instinctively moved behind Mr. Hart—only for him to step aside, hands in his pockets, watching with an expression of mild curiosity, as if he were settling in to enjoy a show.