My Boss's Fake Fiancée

Luna Duarte stared at the paper in front of her. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the pen. The office was silent. Too silent. The only sound was the ticking of the expensive clock on Rafael Costa's wall. "Sign it, and you get the promotion. Refuse, and you're fired." Rafael Costa, her cold and arrogant CEO, watched her with dark, unreadable eyes. He was famous in the company for being ruthless. For never giving second chances. For destroying careers with a single email. Luna needed this job more than air. Her mother was in the hospital, waiting for an urgent surgery that cost more money than Luna would make in five years. The hospital bills were piling up on her small kitchen table. Every night she cried looking at them. She had no choice. She had to sign. With a deep breath, she pressed the pen to the paper and wrote her name: Luna Duarte. What she didn't know, what she could never have imagined, was that it wasn't a work contract. It was a marriage contract. Rafael picked up the paper, looked at her signature, and smiled. But it wasn't a warm smile. It was cold. Calculated. "Congratulations, Luna," Rafael said, standing up and buttoning his expensive suit jacket. "You are now my fiancée." Luna felt her blood freeze. "What?! What are you talking about?" "My grandmother, Dona Helena, is forcing me to marry before my 30th birthday or I lose the presidency of the company. I need a wife. A fake one. For 90 days." Luna stood up so fast her chair fell. "You tricked me! This is illegal! I will not do this!" "Read clause 12," Rafael said calmly, pointing to the paper. "If you break the contract, you pay a penalty of $100,000 and you are blacklisted from the industry." Luna's legs gave out. She sat back down. $100,000? She didn't even have $1,000 in her bank account. "My grandmother is forcing me to marry. You will pretend to be my fiancée for 90 days. In public, we are in love. In private, we are strangers. In return, you get the manager position and $50,000 when the contract ends. Enough for your mother's surgery." Luna wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the contract in his arrogant face. But then she thought of her mother, lying in that white hospital bed, smiling weakly and telling her not to worry. Tears filled Luna's eyes. "Fine. But I have rules too." Rafael leaned closer across the desk. His cologne was intoxicating, but his eyes were ice. "Let's hear them." "Rule number one: No kissing. Ever. Rule number two: No touching unless we are in public and your grandmother is watching. Rule number three: You will not interfere in my personal life." Rafael laughed, a deep sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Deal. I have my own rules too. Rule one: You will live in my penthouse. My grandmother visits without warning. Rule two: You will not ask about my past. Rule three: You will not fall in love with me." Luna laughed bitterly. "Fall in love with you? Never." He extended his hand. "Then we have a deal, Miss Duarte." She shook his hand. His touch was warm. Too warm. But neither of them knew that rule number one would be the first to break, and that this fake signature would change both their lives forever.