The Billionaire’s Reluctant Bride

“You’re late.” The deep voice cut through the sleek glass office like a whip. Isabelle Hart blinked against the sterile brightness as she stepped inside, her vintage boots echoing over marble floors she could never afford. “You’re early,” she replied, lifting her chin. Her voice, calm. Her heart, hammering. The man behind the desk didn’t smile. He leaned back in his black leather chair, watching her like a lion who found the rabbit daring to step inside the cage. Alexander Wolfe. Billionaire. Control freak. Cold-blooded king of Manhattan. And now, her potential employer. “Take a seat,” he ordered. Isabelle didn’t move immediately. She looked at the floor-to-ceiling window, at the Empire State building glittering under the winter sun, then back at the man who hadn’t blinked once since she entered. “I thought this was for a photography assistant position,” she said carefully. “It is,” he replied, folding his hands. “But the person I hire needs to know how to handle chaos. I wanted to see how you handle pressure.” “So the clock was a test?” “Everything is a test, Miss Hart.” And just like that, she realized something. She had stepped into a game where every rule belonged to him. And quitting wasn’t an option.