Married to my billionaire stranger.

Aristotle said, “Your life can change in a second.” Now, I believe that statement—and I also believe it was Aristotle's words. Don’t question it. I’m pushing through the scratched glass doors of O’Malley’s. The warm, bitter stench of whiskey and old floors slaps me in the face. I’m soaking wet and ready to drink until I forget my name. It was crowded, but I couldn’t hear a thing. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was losing my job. Or maybe it was standing outside my locked apartment—soaked to the bone—with no one to call and nowhere to go. That silence that sinks into your bones and settles like rot? Yeah. I know it well. I’ve known it since I was a kid—when Mom was more vodka than mother, and the only sound louder than the static on the TV was her forgetting I existed. I scan the bar. My eyes land on a familiar head of wild, curly hair. Cassidy. Hair frizzed out like a halo, elbows on the sticky table. My one safe person. I walk over, dragging soaked boots and a heavy head with me. “Oh—Jesus,” she breathes, pressing a hand to her chest. “You look like a wet raccoon.” “Thanks,” I mutter, sliding into the booth across from her, too tired to even roll my eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks, already peeling off her jacket and offering it to me. I take it, fingers tightening around the soft fabric. I want to say thank you. I want to smile. But the words just… sit there. I drop the jacket on the table and start tugging off my soaked top—not even caring that I’m in public. “I lost my job. Lost my apartment. Lost my mind somewhere between the two.” I inform flatly, fixing my brown hair in a messy bun. Cassy whistles low and leans back. “That’s a lot.” It is—especially when you are $25 broke like I am right now. I finally wear the jacket she offered. A scent of her perfume engulfs my nostrils—bright and stupidly hopeful. I remember when I used to smell like that. “Are you fine?” She asks me. I dig my fingers into my scalp, dragging them down over my face. “I just want to drink and forget.” I drop my hand, looking at her for backup. “I am fully in support of that choice, girl; your life is in shit.” She laughs out—a little too loud—telling me she’s drunk a little already. She waves the bartender down. An hour later, she’s wasted. Not me, I couldn’t drink—I don’t know why, I just found myself sipping water while she kept on drinking—for both of us. Still across from me, Cassidy leans over the table, eyes glassy with tequila—yep! She’s definitely out. “You are at rock bottom,” Cassy says loudly out of the blue. “Wow, Cass. Say it louder so God hears.” I answer her. I look around at the bar; most of the people who came sober are already drunk. She points at me, wobbly but determined. “No, seriously. Sage. You have the worst luck of anyone I know.” I flinch at the tiny pang of pain that pierced my heart. I know she doesn’t mean it maliciously; it’s just that—I am just not mentally prepared right now. She smacks her hand on the table like she’s preaching. “If karma’s real, she’s got a personal grudge.” I laugh, bitter and tired. I swirl the ice in my empty glass. “Karma’s a b***h, and apparently she hates waitresses.” Cassidy slams her empty shot glass down. “Okay. No more pity party. You know what you need? A wild, reckless, completely irresponsible idea.” She picks up the bottle and starts to chug it directly. I reach across to take it from her. “Unless that idea brings money, I’m not interested.” I honestly don’t even know why I’m still responding to her. “You are so broke.” She tuts, her eyes taking me in. “What do you think you can do for money now?” I barely blink. “Anything.” “What if I told you to marry a stranger for money—would you say yes?” I pause—then “Yeah. I would.” Cassy burst into a laugh so hard she was running out of breath. She tilts to the left, her drunk senses making her lose her stamina. I reach forward to steady her, my hands holding her head in place as I lift her back. Then I see it. A shadow, it slices through the neon haze. Footsteps—sharp, confident, detailed. I look up, and my breath freezes. He’s standing over us, a shadow made of smoke and steel. Tall, sharp, impossibly composed. Jet-black hair. Jaw carved out of stone. Cheekbones that could slice. A charcoal suit that fits like it was stitched directly onto his body. And those eyes—dark, unreadable, dangerous. He stands like the kind of man who doesn’t ask for things. He decides, and the world agrees. He stands in all his poise—hand in his pocket—making his muscles prominent. His head tilts slightly, gaze dragging down my damp clothes, back to my bun barely holding my hair up. I straightened my posture to fix my appearance while my damp, messy bun and jacket mocked my faux composure. He speaks. “You’d say yes?” He asks, voice low, smooth, and laced with something sharp. I blink. “Excuse me?” He doesn’t repeat himself, just studies me. I nod again, wondering why this man decided to join our conversation. I pick up my water, taking a sip to dampen my throat. He heaves a breath. “Will two million dollars be enough?” A rush of burn pulses behind my ribs as the water returns back outside, cold drops spilling down my chin and into Cassidy’s jacket. My eyes dart to his face, looking for the joke. But his expression doesn’t change. My brain seizes. I wait for a camera crew to jump out. For someone to say I’m being pranked. Cassidy mumbles beside me, eyes barely open. “She was… joking…” I forgot she was even still conscious. “I’m not,” he says with finality. Those dark eyes, intense and unblinking, never leave mine. “I need a wife—fast.” He looks at his watch and back at me like I’m the final appointment on his checklist. My head gets lighter, making it feel like I am floating in this absurdity. “I don’t even know your name,” I say, barely more than a whisper. “You don’t have to; you just have to say ‘I do.’” I look at him. Then at Cassy, too drunk to stand. Then at myself—drenched, broke, tired of running. I don’t know what’s scarier: that he’s serious… or that a part of me is tempted. I may be reckless. I may be desperate. But there’s no way I am going to get married out of the blue to a stranger. I’m not that desperate.