Engaged to my Billionaire Rival

Chapter 4

Alex sank into one of the dining room chairs, rubbing two fingers into her temple. “If I don’t take the deal, the company collapses in eight weeks.”

“And if you do?” Iris asked.

Alex let out a sigh. “I spend the next six months pretending to love the man I’d much rather throw into traffic.”

Iris hummed thoughtfully. “Counterpoint: if you marry for money, at least get a penthouse out of it.”

“Iris, I already have a penthouse.”

“Well, then you can get another one.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Iris said, a smile in her voice. “You’re just mad I’m right.”

Alex muttered a curse and ended the call, then stared again at the contract. Then at the clock. Her gaze moved between the two several times.

Forty-eight hours? The arrogant bastard knew she wouldn’t need that long.

--

By noon, Alexandra Adkins marched into the lobby of Ashford Holdings with murder in her eyes and her attorney beside her.

The receptionist visibly panicked. “Miss Adkins! Mr. Ashford is expecting—”

Alex cut her off. “I know he is.”

She didn’t wait for permission.

The executive floor opened directly into Callan’s office. It was all dark wood, floor-to-ceiling glass, and understated obscene wealth. He stood near the windows with his back to her. His jacket was discarded, and his sleeves were rolled to his forearms, one hand in his pocket. Like he’d known exactly when she would arrive.

“I was wondering how long your pride would delay the inevitable,” he said without turning.

Alex slammed the contract onto his desk. “Before I sign anything, I want the truth.”

Callan turned slowly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.”

“Then enjoy finding another fake fiancée,” Alex said.

That made him pause. His gaze flicked to her attorney, then back to her. She raised a brow, and after a few moments, he finally nodded toward the waiting area.

“Give us the room.” The sentence was aimed at her attorney.

He hesitated. “Alex…”

“It’s fine,” she reassured. He left reluctantly, and the door shut behind him.

Silence stretched between Alex and Callan. Then, he walked to the bar in the corner and poured two fingers of bourbon. He downed it in one swallow before turning back to face her.

That was the first sign something was truly wrong. Alex had never seen Callan Ashford drink like a man bracing for impact.

“My brother was in an accident last year,” he said. Alex stilled. “He was with me, and I was driving.” His voice was flat and controlled.

The room seemed to tighten, and Alex’s anger faltered.

“He’s in a coma.” The word landed on Alex’s chest like a mound of stones. “He may never wake up. And because half the board learned enough to start asking questions, my grandmother has decided grief makes me unfit to lead.”

Alex could only stare at him, for once not having anything to say to him.

Callan let out a bitter laugh. “The great Ashford matriarch is requiring proof of stability before the next board vote.” His gaze found hers. “A wife. A respectable public image. A man who appears settled instead of spiraling.”

The air between them shifted and for the first time since she’d met him, he looked less like a ruthless empire-builder and more like a man carrying something unbearably heavy.

“You want me to play house,” she said quietly.

Callan shook his head. “I want a strategic partner no one will question.”

“Why me?”

His eyes locked onto hers. “Because no one would believe I settled for someone weak.”

Her breath caught in her throat. God, even his compliments sounded like warfare.

He stepped closer. “And because if I’m tying my life to someone for six months…” His voice dropped to a gravelly grumble. “It might as well be the only woman who’s ever made me bleed in public.”

Alex’s pulse stumbled. Damn him. Damn him for being attractive while saying psychotic things.

Alex folded her arms tighter. “This changes nothing.”

Callan raises a brow. “No?”

“No.” She lifted her chin. “I still think this is manipulative, insane, and borderline sociopathic.”

His mouth twitched. “But?”

She glared at him for a moment. “But…” she started through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it.”

Callan stilled, then a smile slowly spread across his face. Not smug, not mocking, but triumphant. Alex felt she’d prefer one of the other two.

“Wonderful,” Callan said.

She jabbed a finger toward him. “Do not make me regret this.”

“Oh, Alexandra.” His gaze swept over her, heated and dangerous. “I think we both know regret is inevitable.”