contract bride

The funeral was quiet. Too quiet. No one cried — not even Aria. The priest spoke in soft, empty words while the wind carried them away. A single casket sat at the edge of the freshly dug grave, polished and expensive, almost mocking in how pristine it looked. He died a disgrace, yet the world still gave him a dignified burial. How ironic. Aria Blake stood alone in black, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as the dirt began to fall. Her father — once hailed as a financial genius — had died under a cloud of scandal, accused of fraud and embezzlement. The media had torn him apart. His company had collapsed. His accounts were frozen, and his debts had become hers. Her phone vibrated in her purse. Another call from a creditor. She ignored it. Again. When the last handful of dirt hit the casket, the few remaining guests quietly slipped away, like guilt fleeing the scene of a crime. No condolences. No flowers. Not even a friend. Just silence — and shame. Aria turned away from the grave, ready to walk home because she couldn’t afford a cab. That’s when he appeared. Tall. Imposing. Dressed in a charcoal suit that cost more than her college tuition. The man’s eyes were hidden behind sleek sunglasses, but his presence made her skin prickle. “Miss Blake,” he said smoothly, “Mr. Blackwood would like a word.” Her heart stopped. Damien Blackwood. Billionaire. CEO of Blackwood Enterprises. Her father's most dangerous enemy. The man people called "the devil in a Brioni suit." Fifteen minutes later, Aria sat inside a limo that smelled like polished leather and power. She didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Damien Blackwood sat across from her, every inch the predator.He had removed his sunglasses, revealing storm-gray eyes cold enough to freeze hell. His jaw was sharp, his lips unreadable, and everything about him radiated wealth and danger. “I’m surprised you came,” he said at last. “I didn’t come for you,” she shot back. “Your man dragged me here.” He smirked. “Semantics. You’re here now.” Aria crossed her arms. “What do you want?” He reached into a sleek briefcase and slid a black folder toward her. “A solution. One that benefits us both.” She hesitated before opening it. Her eyes scanned the first page — and her blood went cold. It was a marriage contract. One year. No divorce. Ten million dollars upon completion. A one-million advance, with the rest split across monthly deposits — contingent upon fulfilling “all spousal obligations.” She flipped pages. There were clauses about public appearances, wardrobe expectations, social functions… Then she hit Clause 9 and felt her stomach twist. “The wife will share the husband’s bed a minimum of three nights per week, barring illness or mutual agreement otherwise.” She slammed the folder shut. “This is a joke, right?" Damien leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do I look like a man who jokes?” Her heart pounded. “Why me?” “Because you’re desperate,” he said flatly. “You’re broke. Your mother’s medical bills are piling up. And no one else in this city will touch the daughter of a disgraced thief.” She winced. “My father wasn’t—” “Save it.” His tone cut like a blade. “I don’t care if he was guilty or not. I care that this”—he tapped the folder—“gets me what I need.” “And what’s that?” she hissed. “A wife.” His eyes didn’t blink. “My board is full of vultures circling the company. A respectable, stable marriage deflects scandal,reassures investors, and protects my position.” “So you want a fake wife to parade around like some corporate trophy?” “Exactly,” he said with a cold smile. “And in return, you get financial freedom, medical coverage for your mother, and a clean slate. All for twelve months of your time.” Her breath caught. Ten million dollars. She could save her mother. Pay off the house. Finish college. Escape this nightmare. But the cost… She glanced at Clause 9 again. “You expect me to sleep with you.” It wasn’t a question. Damien’s voice dropped an octave. “This isn’t a charity, Miss Blake. You’ll be mine — legally, publicly, and privately. I expect obedience. Discretion. And loyalty. In return, I offer protection, luxury, and ten million reasons to say yes.” Her pulse roared in her ears. Everything in her screamed to say no. To walk away. To have some self-respect. But self-respect didn’t pay hospital bills. And her mother was dying. She swallowed hard. “What if I say no?” He leaned back slowly, folding his hands. “Then I call in your father’s outstanding debts. I own most of them now. Within the month,your mother will be evicted, and you’ll be left with nothing but your last name and bad press.” Tears threatened, but she blinked them away. This man — this beautiful, arrogant bastard — was buying her. And she was going to let him. Aria opened the folder again. Picked up the pen. And signed. He watched her in silence, then leaned forward to take the contract. His fingers brushed hers — warm, commanding. “You belong to me now,” he said softly. Her lips parted, breath trembling. “When do I start?” A cruel glint flickered in his eyes. “Tonight.” END OF CHAPTER ONE