CHAPTER 3: The Offer
773 Words
Elena's POV
Damian Cole's office occupied the top three floors of a glass tower on Sixth Avenue.
Elena hated how good it looked.
She had expected something cold and impersonal.
Instead, his office was surprisingly warm.
There were bookshelves filled with old paperbacks, awards that looked as if he'd forgotten they were there, and a sketch near the window that made her stop.
She knew that sketch.
She'd drawn it when she was nineteen.
She'd never finished it.
She hadn't thought about it in years.
And somehow Damian still had it.
She looked away.
“You're early.”
She turned.
Damian stood behind his desk.
“I wanted to get this over with.”
He gestured toward a chair.
She remained standing.
“I have a company that might not exist by Friday.”
“I know.”
“So say what you came to say.”
He nodded.
“Fine.”
He stayed standing too.
“Marchetti House needs forty million dollars in stabilized capital before Friday.”
Elena's stomach tightened.
“I can provide it.”
She stared at him.
“Today, if necessary.”
“That sounds generous.”
“It's not charity.”
“I assumed as much.”
Damian took a breath.
“In exchange, I need something from you.”
“What?”
“My board has been pressuring me for two years.”
“For what?”
“Stability.”
She frowned.
He continued.
“Family. Roots. Something that reassures investors that I'm not going to destroy the company chasing whatever I want.”
Elena waited.
“There is a merger closing in six weeks. The board wants a certain image before it happens.”
“And?”
Damian looked directly at her.
“I need a wife.”
For a second, Elena thought she'd heard him wrong.
“What?”
“Not permanently.”
She stared at him.
“Not in the ways that matter outside the contract.”
He continued as if they were discussing a business deal.
“Eighteen months. Maybe less if the merger closes early. Separate lives privately. In public, we act like a married couple.”
Elena's mouth went dry.
“You want to buy me.”
“No.”
“You want me to be a prop.”
“I want to make a deal.”
“A marriage deal.”
“Yes.”
She laughed in disbelief.
“You're insane.”
“I know what I'm asking.”
“Do you?”
Something changed in his face.
“I know exactly what it costs you to hear this from me.”
She looked away.
Marry Damian.
The man who had left her at the altar.
Live with him.
Wear his name.
Stand beside him while cameras watched.
And pretend five years hadn't happened.
Or lose her mother's company.
Those were the choices.
She hated both.
“There has to be another investor.”
“I looked.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Alden looked too.”
She frowned.
“He tried to help you.”
“He told you that?”
“No. I know him.”
Damian paused.
“No one else can move forty million dollars quickly enough.”
Elena looked toward the window.
“What happens to us?”
He didn't answer immediately.
“The history.”
She turned back.
“The tension. Everything that happened.”
“Professionals.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It is the only one I have.”
She hated the calmness in his voice.
Then he said quietly:
“I know what I took from you five years ago.”
Elena froze.
“This contract won't fix that. I'm not pretending it will.”
His eyes stayed on hers.
“But I can make sure you don't lose the one thing you built afterward.”
That hurt more than it should have.
She looked down.
“Terms in writing.”
“Of course.”
“Full financial transparency.”
“Agreed.”
“An exit clause.”
“Yes.”
“And I want the truth.”
Damian went still.
“About what happened five years ago.”
“I can't promise that.”
“Then we don't have a deal.”
She turned toward the door.
“Vivian knows.”
Elena stopped.
Slowly, she looked back.
“What?”
“Vivian knows the truth.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What does that mean?”
“Ask her what she told me the week before our wedding.”
Damian's expression had changed.
“Then decide whether you still want to marry me.”
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