BABY, JUST SAY YES!

Chapter 6

The café was deliberately ordinary. Located on a quiet side street away from the financial district’s main arteries, it offered dark wood tables, muted lighting, and enough distance between seats to allow conversation without an audience. Elena had chosen it for that reason. Neutral ground. No history. No expectations beyond the ones she intended to set herself.

She arrived ten minutes early and took the corner table near the window. Her coffee sat untouched in front of her, the surface unbroken. Outside, the afternoon moved in ordinary patterns—people walking with purpose, cars idling at the light, a courier chaining a bicycle to a post. None of it touched the tight focus of her thoughts.

Julian entered at the exact time they had agreed. He wore a dark coat over a charcoal sweater, no tie, nothing that announced the Croft name. He saw her immediately, crossed the room without hesitation, and sat opposite her. He ordered the same black coffee she had and then waited, attention fully on her face.

Elena did not begin with small talk. There was no point.

“I had preliminary terms prepared this morning,” she said. “A one-year contract marriage. Legally binding. Limited in scope. At the end of the twelve months, either party may initiate dissolution without contest or further claim.”

Julian’s expression did not change. He simply listened.

“I require a legal husband to satisfy the conditions of my mother’s will and take control of Harrington Enterprises,” Elena continued. “You are under clear pressure from your grandfather to marry and present a stable personal life. The arrangement meets both needs without requiring emotional investment from either side.”

She kept her voice even, professional, stripped of anything that might be mistaken for appeal. “We would live at the same address. Appear together at required public and family functions. Maintain a consistent outward presentation as a married couple. Privately, the relationship remains contractual. Separate bedrooms. No expectation of intimacy. Full financial independence. Clear disclosure of any conflicts that arise.”

Julian accepted his coffee from the server with a quiet nod, then returned his gaze to her. “You’re proposing I move into your apartment.”

“Yes. A shared residence is the most efficient way to make the marriage credible. Separate addresses create questions. Questions create openings for my family to exploit.” Elena met his eyes directly. “The apartment is large enough for privacy. You would have the second bedroom and unrestricted use of the common spaces. I am not suggesting we share a life. I am suggesting we share an address and a legal status for one year.”

A faint shift touched the corner of his mouth—something close to acknowledgment of the clarity. “And at the end of the year?”

“We reassess. If both parties prefer to continue under new terms, that discussion can happen then. If not, we dissolve the marriage with minimal public statement and walk away cleanly. No residual claims. No ongoing obligations.”

Julian turned his cup a quarter circle on the saucer, then stopped. The café continued its low ambient noise around them—conversation, the soft mechanical sounds of the espresso machine, the occasional scrape of a chair—but the space between them remained contained and precise.

“You’re certain this is the path you want,” he said.

“I am certain it is the only viable path available to me right now.” Elena’s hands rested lightly on the table, still. “My stepmother and half-sister will not wait. Neither will Marcus. Every day that passes without a legal marriage weakens my position at the company. A public union with someone of your standing closes those avenues. It gives me the authority to act. That is the outcome I require.”

Julian studied her without hurry. There was no pity in his gaze, no calculation that felt predatory. Only assessment, measured and thorough.

“My grandfather will interpret this as a genuine marriage,” he said.

“That is his interpretation to manage. We will know the terms. That is sufficient.”

“And if the public role demands more than shared housing and scheduled appearances? Industry events. Family obligations. Direct questions about the relationship.”

“We present consistency. Polite. United. Unremarkable. People tend to accept the surface of a Croft-Harrington marriage without digging unless we give them reason to dig.”

Julian gave a single, slow nod. “Practical.”

“Yes.”

He lifted the cup, took a measured sip, and set it down again. The silence that followed did not feel empty. It felt like the pause of a man who preferred to finish thinking before he committed to words.

Elena waited. She had practiced this conversation until the language felt clinical. She would not dilute it now with softness or justification. The proposal was already born of necessity. Adding visible need would only weaken it.

When Julian spoke again, his voice carried the same quiet certainty she remembered from the night he pulled her from the water.

“All right.”

The two words landed with unexpected weight. Elena held still. “All right?”

“I accept the framework. We finalize the documents this afternoon with counsel for both sides present. Boundaries in writing. Exit conditions clear. No assumptions left unspoken.” He kept his eyes on hers. “If the final terms are acceptable, we proceed.”

The speed of the decision surprised her. She had prepared for resistance, for delay, for a request to reconsider overnight. Instead he had listened, evaluated, and agreed with the same efficiency he seemed to apply to everything else.

“You’re certain,” she said, using his earlier phrasing.

“I don’t enter agreements I plan to revisit out of second thoughts.” Julian’s expression remained controlled, but there was no hesitation in the statement. “You need the legal status the will demands. I need my grandfather to stop treating my unmarried state as an unsolved problem. The arrangement is mutual and time-limited. That makes it workable.”

Elena felt a narrow band of tension between her shoulders ease by a fraction. It was not safety. Safety was still distant. It was simply the first confirmation that the ground she had chosen to stand on would hold long enough to take the next step.

“Then speed matters,” she said. “The longer the interval between the end of my previous engagement and the announcement of a new marriage, the more room my family has to create interference.”

“Agreed. My attorney can be available at three. Send the draft before then so both sides have time to review.”

Elena nodded. She reached into her bag, drew out a small set of keys, and placed them on the table between them. The metal made a soft, definitive sound against the wood.

Julian looked at the keys, then back at her face.

“These are to my apartment,” Elena said. “If we are going to share a residence, there is no practical reason to wait on the physical arrangements. You can bring personal items at your convenience. The second bedroom is ready. I will notify the building that you have full access.”

He did not pick up the keys immediately. “You’re giving me access before the contracts are signed.”

“I am giving you access because the decision has been made in principle and time is a factor. If the legal review surfaces a condition neither of us can accept, the keys come back. Until then, moving forward efficiently benefits both of us.”

Julian considered that, then closed his hand around the keys. The gesture was simple, almost understated, yet Elena felt the concrete shift of it. Access transferred. A beginning made physical.

“Address?” he asked.

She gave it. He absorbed the information without writing anything down.

“I’ll come by this evening,” he said. “After the meeting with counsel. If the terms hold, we can settle any remaining practical details then.”

“Understood.”

Julian finished the last of his coffee without hurry, set the empty cup aside, and stood. He adjusted his coat with the same economy of motion he brought to everything else. Before he turned to leave, he looked down at her once more.

“Elena.”

She met his eyes.

“This works better if we stay direct with each other when expectations change. Not only the ones we write down.”

“I agree.”

He held her gaze a second longer, then nodded and left the café. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Elena alone at the corner table with her untouched coffee and the faint impression of the keys that had just left her possession.

She remained seated for several minutes, allowing the reality of the agreement to settle into place. One year. A shared address. A public marriage that would unlock her claim to Harrington Enterprises and shut down the most immediate avenues of interference from Diane, Sophia, and Marcus. A man who had accepted the proposal without sentiment, without delay, and without the false warmth she had grown used to from the man she had nearly married.

It was not the future she had planned. It was simply the future that remained available.

Elena placed payment on the table, rose, and stepped back into the afternoon. The city continued around her, indifferent and constant. Somewhere across the district, attorneys would begin examining language that would link her name to Julian Croft’s for the next twelve months. Somewhere in her apartment, a second bedroom stood ready for a man she still knew primarily through two acts of rescue—one given, one received.

She walked toward the next practical task with her shoulders straight and her mind already sorting the sequence of steps that would follow. The contract had been proposed. It had been accepted. The keys had changed hands.

The year had started.