Monster In Silk

I hate black suits. I hate glass rooms. And I hate the man sitting at the end of the table the most. Adrian Blackwood. CEO of Blackwood Corp. Age 38. Wall Street calls him The Monster. Cold. Ruthless. Never smiles for the cameras. Today, he needs me. "A marriage contract. 6 months," he said. No greeting. No small talk. "Why?" I asked. "My sister Selene. She's causing scandals. My father wants to hand the company to someone with a 'stable family'. I need a wife." I laughed. Bitter. "Then why me? I'm a journalist, Mr. Blackwood. Not a model." He slid a folder across the table. Inside: photos of me. Photos of me at a murder scene 2 months ago. Photos of me chasing a corruption story. "You're brave. You're not scared. And you need money for your mother's hospital bills." My heart stopped. "1 Billion. Paid in full at the end of the contract. Plus we cover your mother's hospital." My hand shook holding the pen. "Rules?" "One. No feelings. Two. No one knows this is a contract. Three. You sleep in the guest room." "And four?" His gray eyes pinned me down. Cold and sharp enough to cut. "Don't try to find out who I really am." I signed. Not because of the money. But because in the corner of one photo... there was a piece of red silk. The same signature left at every murder scene I was investigating. ━━━━━━ She said no three times before she signed. Good. Means she's not easy to buy. Cassie Hart. Age 36. Investigative journalist. Spine of steel. Exactly what I need as a shield. And exactly the most dangerous person for me. When she left the room, my assistant Mira whispered from the doorway. "Are you sure about her, Sir?" I didn't answer right away. I looked out the window. Rain started to fall, blurring the skyline. "No," I finally said. "But we don't have another choice." On my desk was one more piece of evidence from the police. Sealed in plastic. A strip of red silk. The same as the one in Cassie's photo. Looks like she's hunting the same monster I am.