Contacted To Love

I cleaned my paint-splattered hands on my worn-out jeans and sighed. I was receiving different kinds of emails on my phone.

One was rejection and the other email thanking me for my early delivery and regretting to inform me that my work wasn't what they were "looking for" at the moment.

My phone buzzed next to me, a notification from my bank app reminding me that my balance was low. My house rent was due next week, and the thought of asking my landlord for another extension made my stomach churn.

My art gallery, my dream, is facing a bankrupt ."Come on, Sophia. You're can do this," I muttered to myself, forcing a tight smile as I looked at my latest piece.

Bold swirls of reds and yellows swirled across the canvas. I had poured everything into this one, desperate to capture the spark I wanted to. Now, even it seemed to mock me.

I heard a loud knock on my studio door that interrupted me out of my thoughts."Who is it?" I said, opening the door. Standing there was Lena, my best friend-or at least, she used to be.

Recently, our friendship had taken a strange turn. She looked as polished as ever, her sleek black dress and diamond earrings out of place in my cluttered little studio.

"Good news, darling!" she muttered, waving an envelope in my face. "You're coming with me to the Blackwood Charity Gala tonight!""Lena, I told you I'm not-""You don't have a choice," she interrupted, stepping inside without an invitation.

"This is your chance to connect and mingle with people who actually buy art. People like Ethan Blackwood. You've heard of him, haven't you?"Ethan Blackwood. Billionaire. CEO. Tabloid darling. I had heared enough about him before, his perfectly chiseled face on magazine seemed to last forever.

A man like that with high reputation would never want to mingle with me. "I'm not fit to attend gala night party," I said, gesturing to my paint-stained outfit.

"You're coming with me," Lena insisted, handing over the envelope into my hands. "You should be prepared before it's eight."I wanted to argue, but something in her tone left no room for debate.

Hours later, I found myself entering the grand ballroom of the Blackwood Tower, dressed in a borrowed gown that hugged a little too snugly around the waist. Glittering chandeliers adorned the ceiling, and the room hummed with laughter and conversation.

"Stick with me," Lena whispered, her arm linked through mine. "Ethan Blackwood is here tonight. You need to get along with him, you need his connection."I opened my mouth to reply when the crowd parted suddenly, revealing the man himself.

Ethan Blackwood.He was taller than I had imagined, his dark hair swept back in a way that showed his effortless power. His sharp jawline, piercing gray eyes, and well tailored suit seemed to draw every eye in the room.

And yet, he appeared... detached. Like he wasn't really there.Our eyes met."Careful," Lena whispered, nudging me.

"Don't stare."But it was too late. Ethan's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, and then, to my greatest surprise, he started walking towards us."Miss Bennett, is it?" His voice was deep, smooth, and incredibly intimidating. I was shocked to hear him calling my name.

"How do you-" I began, but he cut me off with a small smile."Your work. I saw one of your pieces at an art gallery last year. You have a unique eye.

"My breath caught. Ethan Blackwood knew my name? He had seen my work?"I-thank you," I stammered, I was surprised when I heard that from him."Walk with me ," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I turned and glanced at Lena, who inturn gave me a thumbs-up, before following Ethan through the crowd.We stopped at a quiet corner of the balcony, overlooking the twinkling city below.

Ethan turned to face me, his expression charming.

"You're an artist," he said simply."yes I am," I replied cautiously."Talented, but struggling," he added, his words seemed as if he's mocking me .

"What do you want, Mr. Blackwood?"A slow smile crept across his lips, making me feel like I had just walked into a trap."I need your help," he said."How, what type of help do you want from me?""My reputation," he stated bluntly. "I've had some... unfavorable press lately. My board isn't happy. I need to change the narrative." I need to maintain.y public image.

"And what does that have to do with me?"Ethan stepped closer, his gray eyes locking onto mine. "You're going to be my fiancee."The words hung between us, ludicrous and impossible.

"Excuse me?" I choked out."It's a straightforward arrangement," he said smoothly. "You pretend to be my fiancee for a few months. In return, I'll pay you enough to fund your art career for the next five years."

I laughed bitterly. "You can't be serious.""I'm very serious," he said, his voice cool and desperate. "You gain financial freedom. I gain a stable public image. Everybody wins.""Except me," I retorted. "I don't want to be a pawn in your PR game."

"It's not a romantic proposal," he said quickly. "It's a business arrangement. I need someone to play the role of my fiancée for six months. In return, I'll ensure your art career takes off. You'll have everything, the exposure, and the freedom to focus solely on your work."

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. "Why me?"

"You're unknown, talented, and unconnected to the world I operate in," he said bluntly. "You're also smart enough to understand what's at stake and you're capable enough to play the role convincingly."

I crossed my arms, trying if I could understand what he was saying. "And what exactly do you want to achieve out of this?"

"My personal life has become... a complication," he admitted. "Having a fiancée-someone I can trust to keep things professional-can solve that problem."

It was crazy enough to hear that, Insane. And yet, I couldn't reject the proposal. After all I needed that money.

"I need time to think about it," I said finally.

Ethan nodded, his expression unreadable. "Take all the time you need, but don't take too much time. " The earlier the better.

As I was going back to the ballroom, my mind was filled with unanswered questions. Was this an opportunity or a trap?

"Sophia." Ethan's voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned to see him standing by the grand staircase, his expression more serious than before.

"Don't take too much time," he said, his voice low. "Decisions like this can change your life."

Before I could respond, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me with a single, chilling thought: What have I just gotten myself into?