The Perfect Heiress

Buy Him For An Hour

Vivienne's POV

I kept my tone steady, even as my mind churned. “I may spend effort coaxing people, but I wouldn’t waste it on a man. I’m not crazy.”

Sophia parted her lips slightly, clearly skeptical.

Another heiress chimed in, amusement lacing her voice. “Mr. Knight? For real? No wonder you have been escaping from our gatherings, Vivienne. If you have problems making Mr. Knight happy, I can teach you a few tricks.”

Just then, my assistant, Ava, appeared before I could replied to that noisy heiress. “Miss Sinclair…” She tiptoed closer, whispering into my ear. “Mr. Knight brought the key himself…”

She cautiously handed me the still-connected phone. Taking it, I placed it to my ear, as if sensing the warmth of my skin through the airwaves, a voice resonated—deep, magnetic, mesmerizing.

“Miss Sinclair, your keys.”

I quickly steadied myself. “Where are you?”

“The VIP lobby on the seventeenth floor.”

“I’ll come over now.” After hanging up, my gaze swept over the group, settling on Sophia. My lips curved into a half-smile, “Babe. I don’t want to hear your minions discussing my personal life anymore. I’m friends with you, not them. Handle them or I will.”

With elegant steps, I turned and walked away.

...

Just a month of keeping a low profile, Sophia’s shallow friends already dared to mock me openly. And Lilly—why were they so certain Chuck wouldn’t side with me?

Annoyance gave way to a bone-chilling calm.

This was the reality of our world—disgusting, but so what? I didn’t feel discouraged. If anything, my desire to win burned even stronger.

By the time the grand elevator doors opened, my expression was serene, as if nothing had happened.

As I stepped out, my eyes immediately landed on Chuck, lounging on the sofa, flipping through a magazine.

His tailored suit fit his athletic frame to perfection. His hair, meticulously styled, exuded an effortless elegance.

There was something about him—poised, refined, yet always carrying an undercurrent of danger.

I had always been wary of men like him. Yet, I couldn’t deny that Chuck Knight was exceptionally handsome—and, for now, conveniently useful to me.

I could take him upstairs right this moment and silence Lilly and Sophia’s shallow friends once and for all.

Regulating my expression, I took a steady breath and stepped forward with a poised, charming smile. “It’s just a car key. How could I trouble you to personally deliver it, Mr. Knight?”

Chuck finally lifted his gaze, snapping the thick magazine shut. Unhurriedly, he stood, “I thought it would be more sincere to bring it myself.”.

“You’re too polite, Mr. Knight.”

He retrieved the car key from his suit pocket. “The car is parked outside the hotel.”

I hesitated briefly before reaching out. My fingertips brushed against the warm leather, and for some reason, an odd discomfort prickled through me.

I clenched the key in my palm, a bright smile curved my lips. “I’d like to ask—how much does an hour of your time cost, Mr. Knight?”

An abrupt question.

He arched a brow, pausing momentarily before his gaze deepened. “Miss Sinclair wants to buy me for an hour?”

Meeting his gaze, I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I’m buying you for an hour to accompany me to a banquet upstairs.”

Those women claimed I couldn’t handle Chuck Knight? I would prove them wrong—even if I had to pay for it.

Chuck studied me for a long moment before letting out a quiet chuckle. “What do you need me to do?”

I tilted my head slightly. “Play the role of a proper fiancé. I wonder if that’s asking too much?”

“What qualifies as proper?”

“Obedient to me, listens to whatever I say, clings to me, spoils me… Just for an hour. If that’s too much, I can pay extra.” The words pay extra were deliberately emphasized.

Chuck chuckled, the sound deep and rich.

“Deal?” I asked, arching a brow.

He adjusted his tie with precise movements. Then, he extended his arm in an elegant invitation toward me. “Let’s go, fiancée.”

I blinked, then slowly placed my hand on his arm.

A week ago, Chuck and I had barely exchanged nods at social events. Now, we were appearing at a social event as an engaged couple.

...

Inside the elevator, silence settled between us. The walls were lined with crystal mirrors, reflecting Chuck and me from every angle.

"You look quite tall," I said, breaking the quiet.

"Not bad,” Chuck replied, “Taller than your ex, I presume.”

I froze for a split second. Then, realizing he was teasing me, I turned to glare at him. "Chuck Knight!"

Flustered and furious, I tried to withdraw my arm, but he anticipated my move. His arm swiftly wrapped around my waist, pulling me firmly into his embrace.

His strength was terrifying—I couldn’t struggle free.

"Here I thought you were a gentleman," I tensed, pressing my palms against his chest to create distance.

Instead, he only tightened his grip. His voice dipped lower. “And I thought Miss Sinclair had moved on. So why angry at the mention of him?”

I let out a cold laugh. “Don’t act innocent. I haven’t even brought up your countless ex-girlfriends, yet you’re trying to tease me about my past relationship?”

Chuck leaned in slightly, his face shadowed. “Where did you hear I had a bunch of ex-girlfriends?”

The elevator chimed. He studied me for a moment longer before finally releasing me.

I stepped out swiftly, but his scent—rich, intoxicating bergamot—still clung to me.

Just as we neared the lounge, his hand closed around my arm.

"Believe it or not, Vivienne, I’ve never had an ex-girlfriend."

I paused, letting out a sweet, sarcastic chuckle. "Mr. Knight, I’m not that gullible. But whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter. I don’t care either way."

His grip didn’t tighten, but something in his gaze flickered—brief, unreadable. Then, in a voice low, almost coaxing, he said, “Alright, I apologize for teasing you about your ex-boyfriend. Now can we focus on the banquet? You paid a hefty price for this hour—you wouldn’t want to waste it, would you?"

I huffed, ready to snap that I didn’t need him anymore, but he smoothly cut me off.

"And I don’t accept cancelations. But I can give you a discount. Let’s say... ten million for an hour. Not too expensive, right?" He said it so casually, as if ten million were pocket change.

I nearly choked. You might as well go rob a bank. A ten-million discount, and it was still ten million?!

"Not expensive at all. Who knew Mr. Knight was such a bargain?" I quipped, smiling with practiced poise.

Chuck cast me a sidelong glance, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips again. He extended his arm. Everything about him screamed elegance—the kind of man sculpted to perfection by wealth and power.

But I knew better.

Beneath his tailored suit was something raw, untamed.

A single arm had been enough to trap me in place. His strength was sudden, effortless—dangerously deceptive.

He wasn’t the gentleman he appeared to be.

But we still had a show to put on. So I let my fingers rest lightly on his arm, my smile unwavering. "Ten million, Mr. Knight. Make sure you’re worth the price."

His lips curved faintly. "I will." he continued, his tone almost lazy, "But are you sure, Vivienne? Once we step inside as a couple, there’s no turning back."

"And I don’t accept regrets." He continued.

I knew exactly what he meant. Walking into that banquet on Chuck’s arm wasn’t just for show—it was a declaration.

Our engagement would be official, final.

I hesitated for a moment, then exhaled. Maybe this was fate’s way of playing its hand. First, I ran from this arranged marriage to prove I could stand on my own. And now? Now I needed it—to show my strength, to remind those smug heiresses exactly who I was.

And Chuck… Chuck wasn’t a monster.

Alexander was right. Of all people, I should understand what marrying Chuck meant. He could give me the power to silence anyone in that lounge.

If I wanted, maybe even all of them.

"Let’s go," I murmured, my fingers curling around his sleeve.

But Chuck didn’t move. Instead, he slowly pried my fingers from his sleeve—one by one—until my hand was free.

I stared at him, puzzled.

Then, with deliberate ease, he took my hand in his. His grip tightened, warm and steady, as he interlocked our fingers, lacing them completely together.

My breath hitched.

The heat of his touch burned against my palm, pulsing with quiet intensity, seeping through my veins, into my very core.

For a fleeting moment, I forgot everything else. I only remembered this warmth.

"Remember to smile, fiancée." With a firm pull, Chuck led me forward—toward that lavish, intoxicating stage that awaited us at the Art Lounge.