CHAPTER TWO
1095 Words
Alexander's Pov
Emma Clarke walked into my office at exactly nine a.m., no lawyer in sight. She wore a navy dress that had seen better days and carried herself like she was facing a firing squad instead of a business meeting.
"Miss Clarke. Please, sit." I gestured to the chair across from my desk. "No legal counsel?"
"I can't afford a lawyer, Mr. Cross. Whatever this proposal is, I'll just have to trust my own judgment." She met my eyes directly, no flinching. I respected that.
David Chen stood by the window, arms crossed. He'd argued against this plan for two hours last night, calling it reckless and insane. He wasn't wrong, but I was out of options.
"I need a wife."
Emma blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Not a real wife. A contractual one. One year, public appearances only, living in my penthouse to maintain the illusion. In exchange, I'll pay you two million dollars and clear all your debts immediately."
The color drained from her face. "Is this a joke?"
"Alexander, maybe we should explain the context first," David interjected, his voice tight with disapproval.
I nodded. "Three days ago, a business rival named Richard Sterling fabricated evidence suggesting I engaged in insider trading. It's completely false, but by the time I prove that in court, the damage to Cross Enterprises will be catastrophic. The SEC investigation alone will tank our stock price and destroy partnerships worth billions."
"I don't understand what this has to do with marriage," Emma said slowly.
"Public perception. Right now, I'm the cold billionaire villain in Sterling's narrative. The media is already running stories about my ruthless business practices, my lack of personal connections, my isolated lifestyle. They're painting me as exactly the type of man who would commit financial crimes." I leaned forward. "But a man who falls in love? Who gets married? That humanizes me. It creates doubt in Sterling's story. It buys me time to expose his fraud without losing everything I've built."
Emma stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "You want to fake a marriage for PR purposes."
"Yes."
"That's insane."
"That's business." I slid a folder across the desk. "This is the contract. One year from the wedding date. You'll attend social events as my wife, live in my penthouse, and maintain the appearance of a relationship in public. In private, you'll have your own bedroom, your own space. No physical intimacy required unless we're being photographed."
Her hands shook as she opened the folder. "Two million dollars."
"Plus I'll pay off your father's medical debts immediately. All fifty thousand. Consider it a signing bonus."
"Fifty-three thousand, actually," she whispered, scanning the pages. "How do you know the exact amount I owe?"
"I have excellent researchers." I'd had David's team compile a complete dossier on Emma Clarke within hours of the gala ending. Single, no boyfriend, no family except a dead father and an estranged aunt in Oregon. No scandals, no red flags. She was perfect—desperate enough to say yes, honest enough to be trustworthy.
"This is crazy." She looked up at me, eyes wide. "People don't do things like this in real life."
"Desperate people do desperate things, Miss Clarke. I'm desperate to save my company. You're desperate to save your life from financial ruin. We can help each other."
"Alexander, she needs time to think," David said sharply. "You can't pressure someone into a decision like this."
"Actually, I can." I kept my gaze locked on Emma. "The bank forecloses on your apartment in eleven days. Sterling is releasing his fabricated evidence to the media in seventy-two hours. We both have deadlines, Miss Clarke. I need an answer today."
Emma's jaw tightened. "You're manipulating me."
"I'm offering you a solution to your problem and being transparent about why I need you. That's not manipulation. That's negotiation."
She stood abruptly, pacing to the window. Manhattan stretched out below us, sixty floors of steel and glass and money. From up here, problems seemed small. From down there, where Emma lived, problems were crushing.
"Why me?" she asked without turning around. "You could hire a model, an actress, someone famous who'd make this more believable."
"Because you're real. Last night, you told me the truth about your failing business when you could have lied. You cared more about the foundation kids than impressing me. That authenticity is exactly what I need to counter Sterling's narrative." I paused. "And because you need this as much as I do. A famous actress would do this for publicity. You'll do this to survive. That makes you reliable."
"You mean controllable."
"I mean motivated to fulfill the contract." I walked to stand beside her at the window. "I won't pretend this is altruistic, Miss Clarke. I'm offering you money to solve a problem. But it's real money that will genuinely save you from bankruptcy and homelessness. In one year, you'll walk away debt-free with enough capital to rebuild your business properly. All you have to do is play a part."
She turned to face me, and I saw the exact moment she realized she had no other choice. It was the same look I'd seen in the mirror at fifteen when Harold told me emotion was weakness and I either learned to bury my feelings or I'd lose everything.
"What happens if I fall in love with you?" she asked quietly.
The question caught me off guard. "That won't happen."
"You seem very certain."
"I am. I don't do love, Miss Clarke. I do business. This is business."
"And what if you fall in love with me?"
I almost smiled. Almost. "Even more impossible. I haven't felt anything remotely like love in seventeen years. I'm not going to start now."
She studied my face like she was searching for cracks in armor. She wouldn't find any. Harold had made sure of that.
"I want some changes to the contract," she said finally.
Relief flooded through me, though I kept my expression neutral. "Name them."
"If either of us wants out before the year ends, we can terminate with thirty days notice. I want that in writing."
"Done."
"And I want my own bank account. You can deposit the money, but I control it. I'm not giving you financial leverage over me."
Smart. "Agreed. Anything else?"
Emma took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "If I do this, if I sign this contract and become your fake wife, you have to promise me one thing."
"What?"
"Don't make me regret trusting you, Alexander Cross.”
- Writer
