MARRIED TO THE WRONG BILLIONAIRE

CHAPTER 1

The vase hit the marble and blew apart like cheap fireworks bits of china everywhere, water splashing her ankles, crimson petals skidding away.

Andrea didn't flinch. She couldn't. If she moved, the fear would show.

"I'd rather die than marry a murderer," she said. Her voice shook but it didn't break, and she called that a win.

Nathan Jimenez's gaze slid to the wreckage, then back to her face. Calm. Curious. The way a cat looks at a dying bird.

"Careful, Andrea." He took a lazy step forward, Italian leather grinding the shards. "Zander's life depends on what you say next."

For a half-second the words meant nothing, like they were in a language she didn't speak. Then her heart tripped.

"What did you do?" She hated how thin she sounded.

Nathan ignored the question he lifted a hand and fit his fingers around her jaw. Too tight. Her pulse thudded against his thumb.

"You marry me," he said, soft as confession, "and your stable boy keeps breathing."

Her knees almost folded. She willed them not to. Zander. Her Zander smelling of hay and sunshine, laughing in secret corners of the estate. The only person who ever looked at her like she was enough.

"You're lying."

Nathan smiled, all teeth. "I don't waste lies on leverage." He let go and strolled to the tall study window, humming like a man with all the time in the world.

Andrea swallowed hard. "Papa won't allow this."

"Sweetheart, your father's praying I still will."

As if summoned, Blake and Sofia Gonzalez stepped into the doorway. Her father looked wrung out, suit rumpled; her mother's lipstick was perfect, her eyes wrecked.

"Andrea," Blake started, "this is the only way... "

"The only way for you," she shot back. "Not for me."

Nathan didn't bother turning around. "We have a timetable. Sign tonight, wedding Friday, press release in the morning. Elegant, efficient." He tapped the glass as if checking imaginary watch hands.

Andrea's blood pounded in her ears. "You threaten the man I love and call that efficient?"

Nathan finally faced her, dark brows lifted. "Love?" He laughed, a low roll of thunder. "You and a servant? Darling, that kind of fairy tale plays in cheap romance apps, not in real life."

Something inside her snapped. "Real life? You think I don't know real life? You buy everything that makes it hurt."

"Exactly." His smile flattened. "Which is why I'm buying you."

The door behind Blake opened wider. Two guards hauled Filippo Quinn... Zander's father... into the study. Blood at his temple, shirt torn. Andrea's stomach flipped.

"Drea," Filippo rasped. "They have my boy... "

"Enough," Nathan said. He flicked a photo onto the desk. Zander, on his knees, a gun pressed to his head, eyes wild.

Andrea's throat closed. She couldn't breathe.

Nathan moved closer. "Sign, and they both walk out alive. Refuse, and... " he snapped his fingers...

"your stable boy dies before sunset. The old man first, if you make me wait."

Andrea looked at her parents. Pleading. Blake's shoulders sagged; Sofia's lips formed a silent sorry.

Cowards.

Filippo stumbled, guards yanking him upright. "Please," he begged her. "He's a good boy."

Andrea's eyes stung. She turned back to Nathan. "Proof of life first."

"You think you're bargaining?" He laughed again, not amused, genuinely delighted. Monsters loved bold prey. "You are the bargain."

He tossed a sleek fountain pen across the desk. It spun once, landed by the contract Nathan had drafted before he even showed up tonight... of course he had.

Andrea's hand hovered. She pictured Zander's grin. The way he'd tuck a strand of hair behind her ear with work-rough fingers, whisper, Ti amo, piccola.

She picked up the pen... then drove the nib deep into Nathan's palm.

Ink and blood sprayed. Nathan hissed, backhanded her. Her cheek burned; she tasted copper. But the satisfaction was bright and sharp.

Blake shouted her name; Sofia gasped. Nathan looked at the hole in his hand, then at her, and a slow, awful grin spread.

"There she is," he said. "The fire under all that silk."

He pressed the wound against his shirt, staining it. "Get Filippo out," he told the guards. "Separate cells. Cameras on."

Andrea wiped her mouth, swayed, but didn't drop the pen. "You promised... "

"I promised after you signed." He tore another pen from his pocket, slapped it on the contract. "Try that again and I'll send you his ears in a box."

Every pulse in her body screamed. She bent over the paper. Andrea Sofia Gonzalez. Elegant letters she'd practiced as a child when she thought her name meant something bright. Now it felt like a tombstone rubbing.

She set the pen down. Couldn't look at anyone.

Nathan picked up the contract with his uninjured hand. "Wedding. Friday. Eight. Smile wide, Mrs.

Jimenez."

Andrea's father tried to speak. Nathan silenced him with a glance.

"Get some ice for your face," Nathan told her softly. "Press will notice bruises."

Then he walked out, dripping ink and blood across the marble like breadcrumbs.

The guards dragged Filippo with them. Blake followed, shame bowing his back. Sofia lingered, touched Andrea's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, cara."

Andrea shrugged her off.

When the door closed, the study felt a hundred miles wide. Somewhere downstairs strings started warming up for the harvest gala... the party her parents would host tonight to celebrate the "new investment." The music floated up, sweet and stupid.

Andrea knelt and began gathering shards of the vase because her hands needed something to do. A sliver sliced her thumb; she watched the blood bead, bright red against white china, and thought: Same color as the roses. Same color as Zander if I failed.

She pressed the cut to her lips and tasted iron. No tears came; she was past tears. What she felt was colder, heavier... a snowstorm settling in her chest.

I'll save you, she told Zander in her head. Even if I have to kill him to do it.

She stood, legs shaky, and walked to the window. Lanterns swayed between vine rows. Workers laughed, clinking bottles. Life went on because it didn't know better.

She rested her forehead on the glass, let the chill soothe the bruise on her cheek. "Just breathe," she whispered.

Behind her, the desk lamp flickered. Its light skimmed over the signed contract... ink still wet, blood

still fresh.

She turned, stared at it. At her signature. At the price she'd just paid.

Shaking, she reached for the nearest shard of porcelain and carved a single word under her name, so small only she would ever see it.

Liar.

Because tomorrow... or the day after... she would have to stand in front of Zander and destroy him with that lie.