Proposal
607 Words
Aria didn’t expect to hear from Elias Carter again.
Honestly, she assumed their bizarre conversation over rosé and guacamole would vanish into the ether, just another strange Manhattan memory. But exactly three days later, she got an email.
Subject: Proposal (the business kind)
Aria,
If you’re still considering temporary insanity, meet me for coffee. Tomorrow, 10 a.m. at Sonder & Fifth. Bring questions.
—Elias
She stared at the screen for a full five minutes before texting Jen.
Aria: Elias freaking Carter just invited me to coffee. For a fake marriage.
Jen: You’re not going, right???
Aria: …I’m already picking out a scarf.
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Sonder & Fifth was the kind of coffee shop that charged $6.75 for espresso and made you feel underdressed even in tailored jeans.
Elias was already there, seated in a booth by the window, dressed like he had just stepped off a runway—or out of a tech summit TED Talk. Sharp gray blazer. Open collar. Perfect posture.
He stood when she approached. “Aria.”
She slid into the seat opposite. “Still not sure if I’m flattered or terrified.”
“Hopefully both,” he said with a smirk. Then he handed her a folder.
She opened it to find a neatly typed proposal: The Agreement.
It was five pages long. With sections.
“You actually wrote a contract?” she asked, incredulous.
“Of course. I’m not doing prison time for visa fraud without a paper trail.”
She flipped through it.
Duration: 18 months minimum.
Living Situation: Shared residence (negotiable).
Public Appearances: At least one per month together.
Romantic Contact: Optional, mutually agreed upon only.
Termination Clause: If either party falls in love with someone else, they must disclose and can exit.
Aria raised a brow. “Falls in love, huh?”
“I'm not naïve,” Elias said. “We’re both adults. Attraction happens. It just shouldn’t interfere with the terms.”
She tried to read his expression. Was he really this clinical? Or hiding behind strategy?
“And what do you get out of this?” she asked. “I mean, I know the PR angle, but… you’re Elias Carter. You could hire Olivia Wilde to pretend to marry you if you wanted.”
His smile faltered, just briefly. “Investors are jumpy. After the breakup... and a few misquotes in TechBeat, they think I’m unstable. Emotionally volatile. A little romance stability—marriage stability—helps. Especially with the next funding round.”
“You want to play house to impress rich men in Patagonia vests,” she said dryly.
He didn’t argue.
Aria closed the folder.
“Why me?” she asked quietly.
Elias met her gaze directly. “Because you’re smart. You don’t fawn. You understand contracts. And I don’t think you’d make this messy.”
That last line—strangely flattering.
“And if I say yes?” she asked.
He leaned back, unflinching. “We set up a legal review. Move in by the end of the month. Public announcement within two weeks. And a small, believable wedding.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m effective.”
She sat there for a long moment. Her heart beat unevenly. This was wild. Insane.
And yet…
Her options were:
A) Return to London, broke and humiliated.
B) Become Mrs. Elias Carter and stay in New York with a safety net.
The feminist in her screamed.
The realist whispered: You have nothing left to lose.
Aria finally stood. “You’ll hear from me by tomorrow.”
Elias offered his hand. “Looking forward to your decision.”
She took it. Briefly. Warm. Firm. Dangerous.
- Writer
