The Contract of Hearts

Emma Parker's fingers shook as she stared at the eviction notice taped to her apartment door. Three months behind on rent. The red letters seemed to scream at her in the dim hallway light. She carefully peeled it off, folding it into her pocket before Tommy could see it when he got home from school. "Everything will be okay," she whispered to herself, the same words she had been repeating since their mother died six months ago. The subway ride to Manhattan felt longer than usual. Every bump and screech reminded her of the bills piling up on her kitchen table. Hospital bills, funeral costs, Tommy's school tuition, rent, groceries. The list never ended, and her secretary salary barely covered half of it. Emma arrived at Blackwood Industries thirty minutes early, as always. The gleaming silver building reached toward the clouds, all glass and steel and impossible dreams. She had been proud to work here once. Now it just reminded her how small her life had become. "You're early again, Parker," Ryan Blackwood's deep voice made her jump. Her boss stood in his office doorway, looking perfect as always in his tailored navy suit. His black hair was styled precisely, and those famous blue eyes studied her with their usual cool detachment. At thirty-two, Ryan Blackwood was one of the youngest billionaire CEOs in New York, and he never let anyone forget it. "Good morning, Mr. Blackwood," Emma replied, forcing her professional smile. "Your coffee will be ready in five minutes." "Make it three. I have the Singapore call moved up." He turned away, then paused. "And Parker? You look tired. If you can't handle the hours, I can find another secretary." The threat hit harder than he probably intended. Emma straightened her spine. "That won't be necessary, sir. Three minutes." She prepared his coffee exactly how he liked it: black, two sugars, in his favorite mug that cost more than her weekly groceries. Her hands were steady now, focused on the routine that had kept her sane these past two years. "Parker, my office," Ryan called after she delivered his coffee. Emma grabbed her tablet, assuming he needed to dictate letters or review his schedule. But when she entered, he was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city, his expression unreadable. "Close the door." She obeyed, worry creeping up her spine. Had she made a mistake? Was he really going to fire her? "How long have you worked for me?" he asked without turning around. "Two years and three months, sir." "And in that time, have you ever asked for anything?" Emma's throat tightened. "No, sir." "Then why did you request an advance on your salary through HR yesterday?" Heat flooded her cheeks. She hadn't thought HR would tell him about something so small. "I... I have some temporary financial difficulties. I apologize if it was inappropriate." Ryan finally turned to face her, and something flickered in his eyes. "How much do you need?" "Sir?" "The advance. How much?" Emma wanted to sink through the floor. "Five thousand dollars. I can pay it back over six months." "That won't even make a dent in your problems, will it?" Her silence was answer enough. Ryan walked to his desk, pulling out a thick folder she recognized as an employee file. Her file. "Your mother died of cancer six months ago. Medical bills totaling three hundred thousand dollars. You're guardian to your fourteen-year-old brother. You're three months behind on rent, two months behind on his school tuition, and your credit cards are maxed out." "How do you know all that?" Emma whispered, mortification and anger warring in her chest. "I make it my business to know everything about my employees." He set the file down. "I have a proposition for you." "If this is about working overtime, I already work sixty hours a week." "No." Ryan moved closer, and Emma caught a hint of his expensive cologne. "I need a wife." The words hung in the air like a bad joke. Emma actually laughed, a sharp, disbelieving sound. "Excuse me?" "You heard correctly. I need to be married for exactly one year, starting immediately." "Mr. Blackwood, if this is some kind of test" "My father's will contains a clause," Ryan interrupted, his jaw tightening. "I must be married for one full year to inherit complete control of Blackwood Industries. If I fail to meet this requirement by my thirty-third birthday, which is in two weeks, everything goes to my stepmother." Emma sank into the chair across from his desk without permission, her legs suddenly weak. "You're serious." "Deadly serious. Victoria Blackwood has been trying to steal this company since she married my father fifteen years ago. I won't let that happen." "But why me? You could have any woman in New York." "Exactly. Any woman would want to actually marry me, would have expectations, demands. You're different, Parker. You're practical. You need money, I need a temporary wife. It's a business transaction." Emma stood up, anger replacing shock. "I'm not for sale, Mr. Blackwood." "One million dollars." She froze at the door. "What?" "One million dollars for one year of marriage. You'll live in my house, attend public events as my wife, and convince the board and my stepmother that our marriage is real. After one year, we divorce quietly. You keep the money and anything else I give you during the marriage." Emma's mind raced. One million dollars. She could pay off all the medical bills, keep Tommy in his good school, get a decent apartment, maybe even save for his college. It would solve everything. "I need to think about it," she managed to say. "You have until tomorrow morning." Ryan returned to his desk, dismissing her. "And Parker? This conversation stays between us." Emma fled his office, her heart pounding. The rest of the day passed in a blur. She made mistakes she never made, forgot to schedule two meetings, and spilled coffee on important documents. Ryan said nothing, but she felt his eyes on her. When she got home that evening, Tommy was doing homework at their rickety kitchen table. At fourteen, he was all gangly limbs and attitude, but his sandy brown hair and freckles still made him look like her baby brother. "Hey Em," he said without looking up. "Mr. Henderson came by. He said if we don't pay rent by Friday, we're out." "I'll handle it." "With what money?" Tommy's voice cracked, reminding her he was stuck between childhood and growing up too fast. "Em, I'm not stupid. I know we're broke." Emma sat beside him, pulling him into a hug he pretended to resist. "I might have a solution. A new job opportunity." "Does it pay better?" "Much better." That night, Emma lay awake staring at water stains on her ceiling. One year. She could pretend for one year. It was just business, just a job like any other. She didn't have to like Ryan Blackwood to be his fake wife. But as she finally drifted off to sleep, she couldn't forget the loneliness she had glimpsed in his eyes when he talked about his stepmother, or the way his voice had softened, just slightly, when he said she was different.