THE DEAL
1050 Words
*Chapter 1: The Deal*.
The mop bucket squeaked across the marble floor at 2:17 AM.
Frost Tower was dead quiet. 60 floors of glass and money, and only the night cleaners were awake to see it.
Lily Evans pushed her cart down the hallway of the 60th floor. Her back hurt. Her hands were raw from cleaning chemicals. $14 an hour. 8 hours.
Room 6001.
CEO’s office.
She swiped her keycard. The door clicked open.
The office was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed all of New York. The city looked like stars from up here.
And Damian Frost was still here.
He sat behind a desk bigger than her apartment kitchen table. Black suit. No tie. Gray eyes on 3 computer screens. He didn’t look up when she came in.
“Mr. Frost,” Lily said quietly. “I can come back later.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said. His voice was low, clipped. The kind of voice that gave orders and expected them to be followed. “Clean.”
Lily nodded. She’d been cleaning this office for 11 months. She was invisible here. That’s how it was supposed to be.
She started with the trash can. Empty water bottles. Contract papers. A photo turned face-down.
Her movements were silent, practiced. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t exist.
“Stop,” Damian said suddenly.
Lily froze, rag in hand. “Sir?”
“Sit down.”
Her heart jumped. Cleaners didn’t sit in the CEO’s chair.
“I’m on the clock—”
“Sit. Down. Ms. Evans.”
She knew her name. Of course he did. He owned the building.
Lily sat on the edge of the leather chair like it might bite her. Her cleaning uniform smelled like lemon and bleach.
Damian turned his chair to face her. Up close he was worse. Tired, but sharp. 32. Rich enough to buy the whole block and still have change.
He slid a thick folder across the desk.
Lily didn’t touch it.
“What is this?”
“A contract.”
She almost laughed. “I don’t sign things, Mr. Frost. I clean.”
“Read it.”
Her eyes dropped to the first page.
*CONTRACT MARRIAGE AGREEMENT*
*PARTY A: DAMIAN FROST*
*PARTY B: LILY EVANS*
*DURATION: 90 DAYS*
*COMPENSATION: $1,000,000 USD*
The words blurred.
One million dollars.
Her mom’s surgery was $800,000. The hospital called yesterday. “No payment, no operation, Ms. Evans. She has maybe 3 months.”
Lily’s hands started shaking. “This is a joke.”
“I don’t joke about money,” Damian said. “My ex-fiancée left me 2 weeks before the biggest merger in company history. The board says I need a wife. Or Frost Industries loses $2 billion.”
He stood and walked to the window. Hands in pockets. Back to her.
“I need someone who won’t fall in love with me. Who won’t want my name or my money after. Someone desperate enough to do it, but smart enough to keep their mouth shut.”
He turned. His gray eyes locked on hers.
“You.”
Lily stared. “You want me to... marry you?”
“For 90 days. You attend events. You play the part of Mrs. Frost. You live in my penthouse.” He ticked points off on his fingers. “Clause 4: No romantic involvement. Clause 7: Separate bedrooms. Clause 9: At the end of 90 days, we divorce. You get one million dollars. I get my merger.”
It was insane.
It was also exactly enough to save her mom.
“How do you know about my mom?” Lily whispered.
“I notice everything in my building, Ms. Evans.” He walked back to the desk. “You work two jobs. You send 80% of your check to St. Mary’s Hospital, Room 412. Elena Evans. Heart failure.”
Shame burned her face. She hated that he knew. Hated that he was right.
“I can’t,” she said. “I’m a cleaner.”
“Not anymore.” Damian opened a drawer and pulled out a black velvet box. Inside was a diamond ring. At least 5 carats. It could pay for the surgery twice.
“You burn the uniform tonight. Tomorrow at 8AM there’s a private wedding. 20 people. Cameras for the board.”
Lily looked at the ring. Then at him.
“What if I say no?”
“Then your mother doesn’t get her surgery.” He said it flat. No cruelty. Just fact. “And I find another cleaner.”
The room felt too big. Too cold.
Lily thought of her mom’s pale face in the hospital bed. Of her 16-year-old brother Jake trying to act strong. Of the bills piling up.
She reached for the pen on his desk. Her fingers were still stained from cleaning spray.
“Sign here,” Damian said, pointing.
`Party B Signature: *_**_**_*__`
Lily signed. `Lily Evans`. Messy. Shaking.
Damian signed after her. `Damian Frost`. Sharp. Final. Like he was signing a business deal. Because to him, she was one.
“Good,” he said. He closed the folder. “A car will pick you up at 7AM. Wear black. Don’t be late.”
He walked to the door. Paused.
“And Ms. Evans?”
“Yes, Mr. Frost?”
“For the next 90 days, you call me Damian. In public.”
Then he was gone. The door shut with a soft click.
Lily sat there for a long time. The ring box sat on the desk between her and the mop bucket.
She picked up the ring. It was cold and heavy.
She slipped it onto her finger. Too big. It would need resizing.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from the hospital:
`We received an anonymous donation. Your mother’s surgery is scheduled for next Tuesday.`
Lily covered her mouth. Tears hit the marble floor.
She’d just sold 90 days of her life.
She’d just become the wife of the man whose trash she emptied every night.
She stood up. Left the mop in the corner.
For the first time in a year, she walked out of Frost Tower without cleaning anything.
Outside, New York was dark.
And in 8 hours, she would be Mrs. Frost.
- Writer
