The billionaire's temporary wife

I’m running late. Again. “Come on, come on..." I mutter under my breath, dodging through the crowded sidewalk like my life depends on it. Because, in a way, it does. This interview is my last shot before I have to crawl back to my small town with nothing but a mountain of regret and an empty bank account. I can already see the office building a block away, my heart pounding harder with each step. But just as I pick up my pace, I slam—hard—into what feels like a damn brick wall. “Whoa!” My body jerks back, my CV slips from my grasp, and I stumble on my heels. But the worst part—the absolute worst part—is the scorching heat spreading across my chest. I look down and watch in horror as dark coffee seeps through my cream-colored blouse, soaking it completely. No. No. No. “Watch where you’re going,” a deep, irritated voice snaps, pulling my attention upward. And that’s when I see him. Holy. Hell. He’s tall. At least a head taller than me, and built like a man who knows exactly how much power he holds. His navy suit hugs every inch of his broad shoulders and trim waist like it was sewn onto his body. A crisp white shirt peeks out from under the jacket, and the way his jaw clenches tells me he’s barely holding onto his patience. But it’s his eyes that stop me. Blue. Ice-cold. Piercing. They pin me in place, narrowing with annoyance as they drop to the mess I just made. His once-pristine shirt now has coffee splattered across it too, but nowhere near as bad as mine. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, heat crawling up my neck. My throat tightens as I look down at the disaster on my blouse. I’m completely soaked. Ruined. The one good shirt I had for this interview is now a soggy, brown mess. “Great,” I mumble, blinking back the sting in my eyes. I can feel the tears threatening to spill, but I refuse to cry in front of this man—this stranger who already thinks I’m a complete klutz. “Are you okay?” His tone shifts, softer now, but I’m too busy trying to hold myself together to answer. I inhale sharply, my vision blurring. Don’t cry, Rina. Not here. Not now. But I can’t stop it. The pressure, the anxiety, the fear of failing yet again- A tear slips down my cheek. “Hey..." His voice is gentler this time, and before I can stop him, he steps closer. I instinctively take a step back, but his hand shoots out, steadying me before I can trip again. “Are you okay?” he asks again, and I nod quickly, even though I’m absolutely not okay. “I... I have an interview,” I choke out, my voice cracking. I glance at the coffee shop just a few feet away. “But now... I can’t walk in looking like this.” “An interview?” His brows lift slightly, and something unreadable flickers across his face. He looks me over again, this time his gaze softer, less annoyed. I swallow hard, wiping my cheek. “It’s... important. I needed this.” A long beat passes where he just watches me. Then, to my complete shock, his expression shifts. “Come with me,” he says suddenly. “What?” I blink, completely thrown off. “I live a block away.” He gestures toward a sleek black car parked at the curb. “I can give you a clean shirt.” I should say no. I really should. But when I glance down at my blouse again, clinging to my skin and completely unwearable, I know I don’t have a choice. “Okay,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. He starts walking back the way he emerged from and I follow suit. When we make it to a very tall building, he grabs my hand and leads me toward the elevator. After a short elevator ride, I’m standing in a gorgeous penthouse that overlooks half the city. Everything about it screams wealth and power, from the marble countertops to the massive glass windows. “This should fit.” His voice echoes behind me, and I turn to find him holding out a crisp white shirt. His shirt. “Thanks,” I mumble, taking it with trembling fingers. “Bathroom’s down the hall,” he murmurs, watching me too closely, like he’s trying to figure me out. I don’t stick around long enough to analyze it. I scurry toward the bathroom and hurry to take off wet blouse. I then use the dry bit to wipe away any trace of coffee of my body before I put on his shirt. The shirt is huge on me, but it’s dry and clean. I tug the hem down and smooth my hair, taking a shaky breath before stepping back into the living room. “Better,” he says softly, his eyes flicking over me. “Thank you. Really,” I say, meeting his gaze. “You didn’t have to do this.” “Don’t mention it.” I should leave now. I'm late to the interview, and I need to— His phone rings, and his jaw tightens as he answers. “This is Dr. Hale.” Dr. Hale? I blink, my brain scrambling to process the information. But his next words freeze me in place. “She didn’t show up again?” His voice drops, filled with frustration. “I’m on call in thirty minutes. I don’t have time for this.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, looking every bit the powerful man he is. “I’ll be there,” he says curtly before ending the call. “Everything okay?” I ask softly, even though I know it’s not. He exhales, his expression torn between frustration and concern. “My daughter’s school. Her mom..." He pauses, jaw clenched. “She was supposed to pick Lily up, but she didn’t show. Again.” My heart tugs painfully. Lily. “How old is she?” I ask softly. “Five.” I glance at the clock. Thirty minutes. His shift. Crap. “I can... stay with her,” I blurt out before I can think better of it. His head snaps up, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. “What?” “I mean..." I swallow hard. “You need to get to work, and I—I don't think I have a chance at this job after being late. I can watch her until you’re back.” For a moment, he says nothing. He just looks at me like I’m offering him something he doesn’t know how to accept. “You’d do that?” His voice is quieter, almost... vulnerable. “Yeah,” I whisper, nodding. “I would.” And that’s how I end up in the backseat of Dr. Nicholas Hale’s sleek black car, on my way to meet the little girl who’s about to change everything. And I don’t even know it yet.