HIS TO HAVE NOT TO OWN

The city skyline stretched beyond the massive glass windows of Ethan Sinclair’s office, its golden glow painting the floor in streaks of warm light. Yet, the breathtaking view did little to ease the tension crackling in the air. Seated in a leather chair across from him was Jonathan Sinclair, his father’s former business partner and current chairman of the board—a man Ethan barely tolerated. Beside him sat Margaret Sinclair, his motherly but sharp-tongued aunt. And at the head of the conversation, cool and composed as always, was Graham Sinclair, Ethan’s grandfather and the man who had just detonated a bomb in the middle of his carefully ordered world. “I’m not doing it,” Ethan said, his tone clipped. His grandfather leaned forward, his sharp blue eyes locking onto Ethan’s. “You don’t have a choice.” Ethan exhaled sharply, forcing down the irritation bubbling inside him. “You want me to get married—to a complete stranger—just to satisfy some outdated will?” Margaret sighed, pushing a folder toward him. “Not just any stranger, Ethan. Nina Carter. You remember the Carters? Her father, William Carter, was once your father’s closest business ally before his company fell apart.” “Yes, and he was accused of embezzlement,” Ethan shot back. “That’s hardly a good reason to marry his daughter.” Graham waved his hand dismissively. “The accusations were never proven, and this isn’t about the past. Nina is smart, independent, and exactly the kind of woman who can soften your image.” Ethan clenched his jaw. “And if I refuse?” His grandfather’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you forfeit Sinclair Enterprises.” The weight of those words settled like a heavy stone in Ethan’s chest. The company was his life—he had built it, expanded it, and sacrificed everything to prove he was more than just his father’s heir. And now, it could be taken from him by a loophole in his grandfather’s will? Jonathan finally spoke, his voice filled with false sympathy. “You know Victor is waiting for his chance to take over. If you step down, the board will hand him everything.” Victor. The one person Ethan despised more than anyone. His power-hungry uncle had been circling like a vulture for years, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take what Ethan had worked for. Ethan leaned back, his fingers drumming against the desk. “And if I agree? What does Nina get out of this?” Margaret smiled. “Financial backing for her art gallery. She needs funding. You need a wife. It’s mutually beneficial.” A forced marriage for the sake of business. How romantic. Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through clenched teeth. “Fine. I’ll meet her. But I make no promises.” *** The scent of fresh paint and turpentine filled the air as Nina Carter stood before a half-finished canvas, her brush hovering in uncertainty over the strokes of deep blue. The gallery lights above cast a warm glow on her latest piece, but her mind was miles away, still reeling from the conversation she’d had earlier that morning with the Magaret Sinclair A marriage proposal. An arranged one, no less. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” came a voice from behind her. Nina turned to find her best friend and studio manager, Lena Park, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and an arched brow. “I’m trying not to,” Nina admitted. Lena scoffed. “You should be laughing at this, Nina. A billionaire—one of the most powerful men in New York—walks into your life and basically says, ‘Hey, marry me for a year, and I’ll make all your dreams come true.’” “It’s ridiculous,” Nina muttered, setting down her brush. “And yet…?” Nina bit her lip. And yet, she was actually considering it. Her father’s company had crumbled under scandal years ago, taking her family’s wealth with it. She had spent years rebuilding her life, carving out a space for herself in the art world after her parents passed away, but financial struggles continued to weigh her down. The gallery was hanging by a thread. If she didn’t secure a sponsor soon, she’d be forced to shut it down. And now, Ethan Sinclair was offering her a way out. Lena’s gaze softened. “Look, I get it. You don’t want to be a pawn in some billionaire’s game. But maybe… maybe this could be more than just a deal.” Nina let out a hollow laugh. “You really think a man like Ethan Sinclair is looking for love?” Lena smirked. “No, but who knows? Maybe he’ll fall for you.” Nina rolled her eyes. “That only happens in fairy tales.” Still, as she stared at the brown envelope on her workbench containing the contract, she couldn’t deny the temptation whispering in her mind. “Don’t be late anyways,” Lena said with a warm comforting smile, before she slid out of the studio allowing Nina space to war with her thoughts regarding the proposal. Nina turned her gaze to her watch. Her meeting with Ethan was in less than an hour and she wasn’t exactly prepared for it all. But had she ever been prepared for anything life threw her way, she thought to herself. Setting down her tools, Nina grabbed her coat from the office chair for her workbench and the brown envelope containing the contract and started out of her studio. She halted at the entrance and quickly took a scan at her studio, then flicked off the switches. Minutes later, sitted in her Mazda MX-5 Miata, Nina made her way to the Sinclair’s Penthouse, her thoughts racing all the while through the drive. One year. Just one year, and she’d be free. What was the worst that could happen? *** Ethan didn’t do nervous. But as he stood in the sleek, modern penthouse he called home, waiting for Nina Carter to arrive, he felt an unfamiliar twinge of unease. Then the elevator doors slid open, and she walked in. She wasn’t what he had expected. Long, wavy dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her emerald-green eyes scanned the room with quiet defiance. She wore a simple black dress with a coat in hand, elegant yet understated, a stark contrast to the high society women he was used to. “You’re late” Ethan’s voice cut through the silence “And you’re rude,” Nina said almost immediately. “Guess we’re even.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then she crossed her arms. “So, let’s get this over with.” Ethan arched a brow. “Impatient?” “Practical.” He liked that. Gesturing to the couch, he motioned for her to sit. “I assume you’ve read the contract.” “Multiple times.” “And?” Nina leaned forward, meeting his gaze. “Let’s be clear about one thing. I am not some desperate socialite looking to marry rich. I have my own ambitions, and I refuse to be treated like some accessory on your arm.” Ethan’s lips twitched in amusement. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”