Married to a cold billionaire

Chapter 1: The proposal

Elena POV

"Marry me."

My fingers froze in the middle of stirring my tepid coffee as the words lingered in the air like a thunderclap. The guy seated opposite from me in his well made charcoal suit, Adrian Blackwood, caught my attention. He spoke in an unromantic tone, and there was not the slightest trace of emotion in his eyes. They were fixated on me, inscrutable, and piercing, as if they were daring me to flinch.

I eventually managed to put down the spoon before it clattered out of my shaking fingers, saying, "You can't be serious."

His mouth marvelled, not quite a grin, but almost so. "Miss Hart, do I appear to be the type of man who jokes?"

No. He didn't. Adrian Blackwood, a corporate tycoon who was renowned for consuming his rivals with the efficiency of a wolf, was a name that was whispered in terror and awe. Nevertheless, he was proposing to a lady who was drowning in debt and despair at a small, barely lit café on the outskirts of town.

"Why me?" I tried to calm my voice, but it faltered. "You could probably find someone-"

Leaning closer, he interrupted, "More suitable?" His movements were deliberate and precise, like the approach of a predator. "You are just what I need." No hidden agendas, no links to make everything more complicated. An independent variable is you.

independent variable. I almost chuckled at the ridiculousness. I was just a component of his vast equation, not a person in his eyes.

"What can I gain from it?" The answer was brutally clear, yet I asked.

Adrian made no hesitation. The sum is three million dollars. paid throughout the course of the year in installments. Enough to reconstruct your life, pay off your obligations, and pay for your father's medical care. You will take on the role of my wife in return. You'll go to events, pose for pictures, and play the part in public. We'll maintain our distance in private. No more than a commercial agreement.

Three million dollars. The clatter of dishes and the buzz of talk around us were muffled by the number that kept repeating in my mind. The medical expenditures that were mounting like a mountain of shame might finally be paid off. Without me worried about whether we would lose the home, my father could get the attention he need.

But at what price?

"And a year later?" My question was hardly audible above a whisper.

"We part ways," he stated with ease, as if talking about a straightforward business deal. A non-disclosure agreement will be a part of our deal. I'll have done what I was supposed to do, and you'll be free to go on.

"Duties for what?"

Before his mask of indifference returned, his eyes became piercing, a glimpse of something unsaid flickering through them. "You shouldn't worry about that."

It wasn't, of course. No one, least of all me, needed an explanation from Adrian Blackwood.

I looked out the window and saw the storm building inside of me reflected in the dismal sky. This was insane. For a year, I sold my life, my freedom, and my name. However, I realized I didn't have the luxury of pride as the weight of my reality-my father's hollow cheeks, the incessant calls from creditors-pressed down on me.

I forced myself to look him in the eye and replied, "I'll need time to think."

He cocked his head in a barely noticeable nod. There are twenty-four hours in your day. The offer ends after that.

24 hours. My stomach rumbled. At that moment, he may as well have asked me to make the world's destiny.

Adrian took out a neat folder from his briefcase. I recoiled at the little scratch of leather on wood as he slid it across the table.

"Go through it," he said. "Every condition, every clause. The final page is my lawyer's number in case you have any questions.

I kept my hands off the folder. With its smothering connotations, it sat between us like a loaded cannon.

"What are you doing?" I said the question before I could stop myself.

His eyes seemed to darken, but his face remained the same. "Because I require a spouse." You also need an escape route.

He then rose to his feet, his massive body looming over me. His actions were as exact as everything else about him as he fixed his tie. "I'll be anticipating your response by tomorrow night."

He turned and left, his footsteps resonating against the tiled floor, and I was unable to reply.

The folder was still there, a subtle reminder of the choice that might make all the difference-or break me.

That evening, I sat with the folder open in front of me at the kitchen table in our little apartment. The legalese was muddled together, and I was too tired to concentrate. The gentle snores coming from the next room served as a reminder of why I couldn't afford to make a mistake.

I grabbed my phone and called the one person who could help me see things from a different angle.

I said, "Lila," as soon as she answered.

"What's the matter?" Her calm, loving voice helped to ground me.

"I... I believe I've done something insane.

She said, "Define crazy," with a hint of worry.

After hesitating, I revealed everything: the contract, the money, and Adrian's proposal. There was a lengthy pause on the other end after I was done.

At last, she murmured, "Elena, this sounds-"

"I understand," I said. Crazy. Careless. However, what options do I have? Just the medical bills-

"There's always an option," she said. "You only need to confirm that this is the correct one. Don't allow him to coerce you into doing anything you'll later regret.

I'm sorry. Long after we hung up, the term continued to linger. Although I wanted to think I could go, I knew I couldn't every time I saw my father's faint grin and the despair in his eyes.

I closed the folder and gazed at the signature line of the contract as the sun began to peek through the blinds. With my heart thumping in my ears, my pen lingered.

I took a deep breath before signing my name.

Adrian's office, a glass-walled fortress with a city view, is where I met him the next evening. His face was blank as he looked at the signed contract in my hands.

With more of a statement than a question, he replied, "You've made your decision."

"Yes," I said, sounding more composed than I really was.

He accepted the folder, and with well-honed efficiency, flipped through the pages. He closed it, satisfied, and turned to face me.

"All right. Tomorrow, we will make the engagement public.

Tomorrow. My heart thumped. I started to object, but he interrupted me with a raised hand.

"Miss Hart, there is no more time for doubt. I own you.

His tone was so definitive that it made me shudder. However, he moved closer before I could comprehend the gravity of what he had said, his voice becoming almost whispery.

With his gaze fixed on me, he said, "And by the way, you're not the only one who signed a contract." You will be surprised if you believe that this is only a financial matter.