Chapter 1
Calla Monroe had three rules when delivering packages:
Don’t ask questions. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t stay longer than thirty seconds.
Today, she broke all three.
The moment she stepped into Vale Industries’ marble lobby, she knew she didn’t belong. The walls were too clean, the air too cold, the receptionist too perfect with her bone-straight blonde hair and clipped tone.
“Who are you here to see?” the woman asked, not looking up.
Calla clutched the slim envelope tighter. “Damian Vale. It’s a personal delivery. I’m with Phoenix Couriers.”
The receptionist blinked, her interest suddenly piqued. “You’re late.”
Late?
Before she could ask anything, a sleek elevator opened with a soft ding.
“Take it to the top floor,” the receptionist said. “He’s expecting you.”
Calla stepped inside the mirrored box, heart thumping louder with every floor. This wasn’t just any delivery. Damian Vale wasn’t just any client. He was the billionaire—ruthless, untouchable, and everywhere. Rumor said he could ruin a person with a single phone call.
When the doors slid open, the air changed. Softer. Heavier. Like secrets clung to the walls.
“Come in.”
The voice stopped her cold. Deep, smooth, and bored.
She stepped into the office. There he was—behind a desk of glass and steel, wearing a charcoal suit like it was made for sin. Damian Vale didn’t look up. Just held out his hand.
“You’re late,” he said again.
“I wasn’t given a time.”
“Everyone knows I hate lateness.”
She narrowed her eyes and placed the envelope in his palm. “Then fire the receptionist.”
That made him look up. Slowly. And when their eyes met, something crackled in the silence. Something heavy.
His gaze flicked to her face. Then down her frame. Then back again.
“You’re not who I expected.”
Calla raised a brow. “I’m not trying to be.”
He stood, walked around the desk. Tall. Calm. Dangerous. “Do you know what this envelope contains?”
She shook her head.
“It’s a contract.” He stared at her like she was part of a puzzle he didn’t remember building. “For marriage.”
Calla blinked. “Okay… weird thing to share with your delivery girl.”
Damian didn’t blink. “I thought I was speaking to her.”
Silence stretched between them.
“What?”
“I was told the courier would deliver the documents and go over the final terms. My lawyers set this up hours ago. Are you saying… you’re not the stand-in bride?”
She stepped back. “Excuse me?”
He reached for a folder on the desk, flipped it open. His brows knit. “This isn’t her.”
“No, this is definitely not her,” she snapped. “I’m just here to deliver that envelope, not marry a billionaire with ice cubes for a soul.”
He stared at her again, eyes sharper now. “Yet here you are, standing in front of me… and somehow, you feel like the solution I didn’t know I needed.”
Calla’s heart stuttered. This had to be a joke.
It wasn’t.
Because the next words out of his mouth changed everything:
“Marry me. For one year. One hundred million dollars. Starting now.”
