Claimed By The Cold Billionaire

Chapter 2

ARIA'S POV

I almost laughed.

A proposal. From a man I had met on a gurney less than twelve hours ago, standing in the middle of his own lobby like he owned the air inside it, which he probably did, looking at me like I was a problem he had already solved in his head and was simply waiting for me to catch up.

"I don't know you," I said.

"You know enough," he said. "You kept me alive last night."

"That's my job. It doesn't make us acquainted."

He studied me for a moment the way people study contracts before signing. Looking for the fine print. Looking for the thing that would complicate the decision.

"Walk with me," he said.

"I have a delivery to complete."

"It can wait."

"My job cannot wait just because….."

"I own the company that hired your catering service," he said. Not unkindly. Just factually, the way someone states the weather. "The delivery can wait."

I stared at him. He stared back with the patience of someone who had never once been told no and allowed it to be the final answer. I thought about arguing further and then I thought about the collections notice on my counter and I thought about the phone call Grace had mentioned last night and I pushed the trolley against the nearest wall and crossed my arms and said, "Five minutes."

He nodded once and walked toward a seating area near the far end of the lobby, away from the front desk and the people moving in and out of the building. I followed because I had apparently lost my mind somewhere between the hospital and here.

He sat down and I sat across from him and he looked at me with those grey eyes that gave away nothing and said, "Your debt with Meridian Medical Credit. One hundred and eighty thousand remaining."

Every muscle in my body went rigid.

"How do you know that number?" I said.

"I had my team look into your file this morning after James mentioned your situation when I called to thank the hospital staff."

"James had no right to discuss my personal finances with you."

"He didn't discuss them. He mentioned that the nurse who saved my life was working a second job to manage significant medical debt. I drew my own conclusions and had someone verify them. Public debt records are accessible."

"Accessible doesn't mean appropriate," I said.

"No," he agreed. "But here we are."

I looked at him for a long moment. There was no apology in his expression and I got the sense that apologies were not something Damien Blackwell kept in regular rotation. He said what he meant and he waited for the world to adjust accordingly and somehow that was more honest than the performative guilt I was used to from people who did intrusive things and then felt bad about it afterward.

"What is the proposal," I said flatly.

"My family has been arranging a match for me with the daughter of a business associate. I have no interest in the arrangement and even less interest in spending the next several months deflecting their pressure. I need someone credible at my side for approximately three months. Dinners, events, two family gatherings. Nothing beyond what is publicly appropriate."

I let that sit for a moment.

"You want a fake girlfriend," I said.

"I want a practical solution to a personal problem," he said.

"That's the same thing."

He didn't argue that. "In exchange I will clear your remaining debt with Meridian in full. One hundred and eighty thousand dollars, handled before the end of this week."

The number landed in the room between us like something physical. I felt it the way you feel a sudden change in temperature, all at once and everywhere.

One hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Years of double shifts and cereal for dinner and never buying anything that wasn't strictly necessary. Years of watching that number move so slowly it sometimes felt like it wasn't moving at all. Gone. Before the end of the week.

I stood up.

"No," I said.

He blinked. It was the smallest reaction but I caught it because I was watching for it. He had not expected that.

"Miss Sinclair—"

"I appreciate that you think this is a reasonable offer," I said, keeping my voice even because losing my composure in the lobby of Blackwell Industries was not something I was willing to do. "But I don't know you. And I am not going to pretend to be in a relationship with a stranger regardless of what it pays. I have a job. I have a life. And I don't need saving."

I picked up my trolley and walked back to the elevator.

He didn't follow me and he didn't call after me and I told myself that was a relief the entire time I was upstairs delivering pastries to a boardroom full of people who didn't look at me once.

********************

I went back to the hospital that afternoon for my second shift and I did not think about Damien Blackwell. I thought about my patients and I thought about the chart updates I needed to finish and I thought about whether Lena had eaten today because she had a habit of forgetting meals when she was deep in a design project and somebody had to think about these things.

I did not think about one hundred and eighty thousand dollars.

I did not think about the end of the week.

James found me at the nurses' station at seven in the evening and sat beside me with the particular quietness he used when he was about to say something he knew I wouldn't want to hear.

"The hospital board met this afternoon," he said.

I looked up from the chart.

"Meridian contacted them directly," he said. "They're classifying your outstanding balance as a liability risk. The board wants to discuss your continued position here, Aria. They've scheduled a formal review for next Friday."

I put the chart down very slowly.

"They can do that?" I said.

James looked at me with tired, sorry eyes and said, "They already did.”