THE BILLIONAIRE'S BARGAIN BRIDE

THE PROPOSAL

Chapter Two: The Proposal

The call came at 9:47 the next morning, while Elena was up to her elbows in fabric swatches and Priya was aggressively highlighting a spreadsheet like it owed her money.

"Reyes Events," Elena answered, phone wedged between ear and shoulder.

"Ms. Reyes. Damian Cole."

She sat up so fast she knocked a swatch book to the floor. Priya's head snapped up, eyebrows already climbing.

"Mr. Cole. I take it you found the actual Elena."

"I did not," he said. "I fired the agency instead. Their vetting process is evidently nonexistent, and I don't have six months to start over."

"That sounds like a you problem," Elena said, and then winced, because this was a client a potential client, anyway and she was supposed to be charming, not mouthy.

There was a pause on the line. When Damian spoke again, his voice had a different quality to it careful, like he was picking his way across ice.

"I read your gala proposal. It's good. Better than good the concept for the ice-garden centerpiece alone is worth the contract."

"Thank you." She waited for the rest.

"I have a second proposal," he said. "A business one. I'd like you to hear me out before you say no."

Elena glanced at Priya, who mouthed what is happening with the particular intensity of a woman one unpaid invoice away from a nervous breakdown.

"I'm listening," Elena said slowly.

"My grandmother's will requires that I marry within six months or I forfeit controlling interest in Cole Hospitality Group to my uncle, who will run it into the ground for a quick payout and take four thousand employees down with it. I don't have time to find someone the conventional way, and I have no intention of subjecting a real relationship to that kind of pressure and scrutiny. What I need is an arrangement. A contract. Six months, maybe less if the board moves the deadline up. Full compensation for your time enough, I'd guess, based on your gala rate, to clear whatever's put those circles under your eyes."

Elena's mouth went dry. "That's very direct."

"I told you I would be."

"You want me to marry you. As a job."

"I want you to pretend to marry me," he said, "as a job. Convincingly. Publicly. Until the will's condition is satisfied and I have full control of the company, at which point we separate, amicably, and you keep the settlement regardless of what happens next in either of our lives."

Priya had crossed the room and was now reading the words HE WANTS TO MARRY YOU that Elena had scrawled on a nearby notepad, her mouth open in a silent scream of delight.

"Why me?" Elena asked, because it was the only question that mattered. "You met me yesterday. Under humiliating circumstances, might I add."

"Because you didn't flinch," Damian said, and something about the honesty in it startled her. "Everyone who's ever wanted something from me flinches, eventually, when they realize how much scrutiny comes with it. You laughed at me instead. I'd rather spend six months with someone who finds me ridiculous than someone who's pretending not to."

Elena was quiet for a long moment, looking at the mood board on her wall the venue her father built with his own hands, the one the bank was seventeen days from repossessing.

"I need to think about it," she said.

"Take the day," Damian said. "But Ms. Reyes I should tell you, since we're being direct. There will be press. There will be scrutiny. My family's business has enemies, and my last engagement ended badly enough that people will ask questions. If you have anything in your past you'd rather stayed private, I need to know now."

Elena's stomach tightened. She thought of her mother's name in twelve-point font under a headline that had followed their family for a decade. Reyes. Same name. Same shame, if anyone bothered to dig.

"Everyone has things they'd rather stayed private, Mr. Cole," she said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She hung up before he could hear that her hands were shaking.