Billionaire’s Contract Bride

CHAPTER 1: FORTY EIGHT HOURS The rain in Durban didn't care that Amara Johnson was about to lose everything. She stood outside Black Holdings on Umhlanga Ridge, her cheap white nurse uniform soaked through, her CV shaking in her wet hands. The glass building was 30 floors high and worth more than her entire township. Inside was the man who could save her mother, or destroy her last bit of pride. "Please, I need to see Mr. Black," she begged the receptionist for the third time. Her voice was breaking. The receptionist, a pretty girl with red lipstick, didn't even look up from her computer. "Appointment only. Do you have an appointment?" "No, but-" "Then you need to leave." "My mother is in King Edward Hospital. She needs a heart operation. Eighty thousand rand. I will clean floors, I will work day and night, I will do anything. Just let me speak to someone about a job." "Security!" the receptionist called. Amara's eyes filled with tears. Forty eight hours. The doctor at King Edward had looked her straight in the eye that morning and said, "If your mother doesn't get this operation in forty eight hours, her heart will fail. I'm sorry, Amara. Without payment, we cannot operate." And Amara had exactly R312.47 in her Capitec account. She had lost her job at the call center last week when the company retrenched. Her boyfriend of three years, Sipho, had left when she asked him for R500 for groceries. "You are always begging," he said. She was about to turn away into the cold rain when the private elevator opened with a soft ding. Liam Black stepped out. The whole lobby changed. He was taller than she imagined from the business magazines, over six feet, in a black tailored suit that probably cost R80,000 - the exact amount she needed. His face was cold, handsome in a way that made you afraid to look too long. His eyes were grey and empty. The billionaire CEO of Black Holdings. Twenty nine years old. Worth half a billion rand. And rumored to have no heart at all. Everyone in the lobby stood straighter. Two managers came running. "Mr. Black, your car to the Hilton is ready. The gala starts at seven." He didn't answer. He was looking at Amara. She was soaked, her thin uniform sticking to her body, her natural hair stuck to her face, her cheap takkies full of water. But her eyes - her eyes were burning with something he had never seen in the women who threw themselves at him. It was not greed. It was pure desperation. "Who is she?" he asked quietly. His voice was deep. The receptionist jumped up. "Just someone looking for a job, sir. I was calling security to remove her. I'm so sorry for the disturbance." "No," Liam said. He walked towards Amara. She couldn't move. She smelled his cologne, expensive and cold like the air conditioning in his building. "Why are you crying in my building?" he asked. It wasn't kind. It was direct. Like a business question about profit and loss. Amara wiped her face with her wet sleeve. "I'm not crying. I'm... my mother is dying. I came to ask for a job. Any job." He studied her for a long moment, from her wet hair to her shaking hands. Then he said something that made absolutely no sense. "How old are you?" "Twenty... twenty four." "Single? Are you married? Boyfriend? Children?" "What? No, I'm single. Why are you-" Liam looked at his watch. An expensive Rolex. "My grandfather, Joseph Black, died last month. He built this company from nothing. His will says I must be legally married before I turn thirty in two days, or I lose everything. The board will give the company to my cousin. My ex-girlfriend Vanessa wants to marry me tomorrow, but she only wants my money. I need a wife who doesn't want me." The lobby went completely silent. The receptionist's mouth fell open. "I don't understand," Amara whispered. Liam took a step closer. "Marry me. Contract marriage. Six months. You will be my wife in public. You will live in my mansion in Umhlanga, wear nice clothes, attend galas and dinners with me. You will act like you love me. In private, we are strangers. I don't touch you, you don't touch me. After six months, we divorce quietly. I will give you R500,000. Cash. You can save your mother. You can start a new life." R500,000. Five hundred thousand rand. Amara's heart stopped. That would pay for the operation, the hospital stay, rent for a year, everything. It was a fortune. "What's the catch?" she asked, her voice shaking like a leaf. Liam's eyes were ice. "Three rules. Rule One: No love. No falling in love. No real marriage. This is business. Rule Two: No one can ever know it's fake. If my board finds out, I lose the company and you lose the money. Rule Three: In public, you obey me. You smile when I tell you to smile. You kiss me when I need you to kiss me." He pulled a thick black business card from his inside pocket and held it out. "You have one hour to decide. After that, I will find another girl. There are many desperate girls in Durban. Come to the 30th floor if you say yes." He walked away, his security following. The elevator doors closed. Amara stood in a puddle of rainwater, holding a black business card that said LIAM BLACK - CEO - BLACK HOLDINGS in gold letters. Outside, the rain was still falling hard on the taxis. Inside her cracked phone, a message from the hospital flashed: _Amara, where are you? Your mother is asking for you. Doctor says time is short. Please come._ Amara looked at the elevator where the billionaire had disappeared. Selling herself for marriage? It was crazy. It was wrong. Her mother would be ashamed. But her mother would be alive. She clutched the card so tight it cut her palm and walked into the elevator. She pressed 30. Her finger was shaking. She didn't know that this cold contract would ruin her reputation, save her soul, and make her fall hopelessly in love with the coldest man in Durban. She didn't know that this man who bought her would one day kneel in the rain to beg her to stay. The elevator went up. She reached the 30th floor and the doors opened to a world she had never seen. The entire floor was one office, glass walls overlooking Durban's ocean. Liam Black stood by the window with his back to her, his hands in his pockets. "You came," he said without turning. "My mother... she has no time," Amara whispered, her voice small. "I will do it. But I need the money today. The hospital wants payment before they operate." Liam turned. His grey eyes were darker now. "You will get R100,000 today. The rest after the wedding tomorrow. My lawyer will draw the contract tonight. You will read every word." "Tomorrow? You want to marry tomorrow?" "My birthday is in two days. I must be married before that. The board meets tomorrow afternoon. You will be there as my wife." Amara felt dizzy. "Tomorrow? I have nothing... no dress, no..." "I will provide everything. You will go to a boutique in the morning. You will not embarrass me." He walked to his desk and pressed a button. A tall woman in a grey dress came in. "This is Mrs. Dlamini, my personal assistant. She will take you to get your blood test and sign the affidavit. And she will give you the first payment." Amara looked at the woman, then back at Liam. "Why me? You could choose any beautiful rich girl in Umhlanga." Liam stared at her wet uniform and her proud, desperate eyes. "Because rich girls want my money. You only want to save your mother. That means you will not fall in love with me. And you will leave after six months." He was wrong. So wrong. But Amara didn't know that yet. Mrs. Dlamini touched her arm gently. "Come, child. Let's get you dry. You are shivering." As Amara followed her out, Liam said one last thing. "Amara Johnson. From tomorrow, you will be Mrs. Amara Black. Don't make me regret choosing you." Amara didn't answer. She just held her mother's hospital bracelet in her pocket and walked out. Forty eight hours to save her mother. Six months to survive a loveless marriage. She could do it. She had to.