Chapter 1

VENUS

 “You’ll be fine, Mom. I promise.”

 I smiled, even if it felt like lying through my teeth. “My job pays well, I’ve got savings, we’ll handle the chemo soon.”

 I had to be strong. For both of us.

 She gave a weak sigh, eyes glistening. “You shouldn’t be wasting your life on me, Venus. You’re only twenty-two. You should be out there living, dancing, falling in love…”

 “Stop.” I tucked a stray curl behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “You don’t worry about anything. I’ve got us.”

 Her voice dropped. “How’s your dad?”

 My jaw clenched.

 Of course, she couldn’t meet my eyes. The man hadn’t visited once since her diagnosis.

 “I haven’t seen him since Sunday,” I said flatly. “And I hope I don’t. It’s been peaceful.”

 She opened her mouth—probably to defend him again—but I stood. “I have to get to work, Mom. I’ll see you later.”

 “Thank you for coming every day, sweetheart. I don’t deserve you.”

 “You do,” I said, hugging her. “I’m your daughter. That’s all that matters.”

 ------

 I hailed a cab, dropped into the backseat, and clutched my bag like my life depended on it. Inside was the file. The file. The one Aaron Sinclair had tossed onto my desk last night like a time bomb.

 You’d check twice too if you worked for a man like him—dangerous in Dior, heartless in Hugo. He’s the kind of man who walks into a room and makes gravity shift. Broad shoulders. Razor jaw. Hazel eyes that could slice through you if his words hadn’t already done it.

 To every other woman, he’s a fantasy. To me? A nightmare in tailored suits.

 Two months working under him, and I swear he gets off on making my life miserable. Impossible deadlines, inhuman workload, cold stares that could freeze hell itself. And yet he hasn’t fired me. Because no matter how much he wants to break me, I always deliver.

 Why not quit, you ask?

 Because I can’t. I was a waitress before this, barely surviving. This job is the reason my mother has a bed in a hospital and not a floor in a rundown clinic. I have a degree, yes. But the world doesn’t pay in potential, it pays in cold, hard results.

 The cab pulled up in front of the towering steel-and-glass building I now called hell. I paid, got out, and took a deep breath.

 Showtime.

 ------

 The second I stepped into my office—just a thin wall away from Mr. Sinclair’s—the intercom rang.

 “My office. Now.”

 No greeting. Just that voice. Sharp. Clipped. Cold.

 “God, give me strength,” I muttered and walked to his door.

 Knock.

 “Come in.”

 I entered and stood straighter than usual. “Good morning, Mr. Sinclair. You called for me?”

 He didn’t look up right away. When he did, those hazel eyes locked on mine like a sniper's target.

 “Sit,” he said, irritation laced in every syllable.

 I sat. The silence stretched. Long enough to make me fidget. Then—

 “Marry me.”

 I blinked. My brain stalled.

 “What?”

 “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he said smoothly, like he hadn’t just shattered reality.

 And just like that, my nightmare said he wanted to make it legal.

Chapter 2

VENUS

 “Marry me.”

 My brain short-circuited.

 “W-what?” I blinked, pushing up my oversized glasses—scratched, crooked, and clinging to life like my sanity. His eyes tracked the motion, brimming with disdain. Typical.

 “You heard me,” he replied coolly, like he’d just asked for a meeting reschedule, not proposed marriage to the woman he’s treated like corporate lint for two months straight.

 God, I loathe this man.

 “What, is this some new psychological warfare tactic?” I folded my arms. “Because the emotional labor you’ve inflicted isn’t quite enough?”

 “Marry me and I—”

 “No.” My voice cut through the tension like a blade. Sharp. Final.

 He blinked. Just once. But I saw it—surprise. As if the idea of being turned down had never occurred to him.

 “No?” he echoed, mildly offended.

 Didn't think I'd ever speak back, did you?

 “Want it in Spanish? French? Morse code?”

 “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

 “I don’t want your offer.” My voice rose. “I’m not interested in whatever twisted bargain you’ve cooked up in that emotionally unavailable brain of yours.”

 He leaned back in his chair, lips twitching. Not quite a smirk, something colder.

 “One million dollars.”

 Silence. 

 My heart stuttered. He's crazy. I was genuinely concerned now, Did he hit his head or something?

 “A million?” I asked, incredulous. “You think throwing money at me will fix the months you’ve spent micromanaging me into oblivion? You’ve treated me like disposable help, now suddenly I’m bride material?”

 “You’ll have time to consider,” he said evenly. Calm. Measured. Calculating. Like he hadn’t just upended my world.

 I scoffed and slammed a folder on his desk. “Here’s the report you asked for. And no, I’m not for sale. You’re not the devil in disguise, Sinclair. You are the disguise.”

 Then I walked out.

 And for the first time since I started working for him… there was no retaliation. No snide remarks. No passive-aggressive memos.

 Just silence.

 It should’ve felt like peace.

 It didn’t.

 By the time I left work, the weight of it all was pressing on my chest—like the moment before a storm. I ran into Jude at the elevator.

 “You’re heading out early,” he noted.

 “Yeah,” I said with a tired smile. “Gotta check on Mom.”

 “Tell her I said hi.”

 I nodded, waved, and headed home hoping for quiet.

 I got it.

 But not the kind I wanted.

 The apartment was still. Too still.

 I opened my bedroom door and my stomach sank.

 Drawers overturned. Sheets yanked off. My closet wide open like a wound.

 “No,” I whispered, lunging for the box under my bed.

 Empty.

 All of it gone. Every dollar I’d scraped and saved for Mom’s chemo. Months of tips, late nights, skipped meals vanished.

 There was no sign of forced entry. No broken windows. No lock tampering.

 Just one conclusion.

 Only one person had a key.

 Only one person had ever taken more from me than he gave.

 Dain.

Chapter 3

VENUS

 I wiped my eyes before stepping into Mom’s ward. They must’ve been swollen. I hadn't stopped crying since dawn, and Dain? Still not picking up.

 “Hey, Mom,” I said, faking a smile so fragile it could crack if she blinked too hard.

 Her expression shifted instantly. “Venus, what’s wrong? You’ve been crying.”

 Of course she saw through it. She always does.

 “Yeah… my boss is being an ass again,” I lied. The truth would break her. And I couldn’t add one more crack to her already-fractured world.

 “Venus—” she started softly.

 “It was my fault. I don’t wanna talk about it,” I muttered, brushing it off like it didn’t weigh a ton.

 She didn’t push. Just reached for my hand. “Okay, darling. You don’t have to.”

 I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Did Dain come by?”

 “No... is he back home?” Her voice lifted, blooming with a hope that made me sick.

 That man didn’t deserve her hope.

 “No. He hasn’t.” My voice turned cold, sharp and bitter. She noticed.

 “Venus—”

 “I should go. You need rest. Chemo starts next week.”

 Another lie. It scorched my throat. God, I needed to make it true before it killed her.

 We hugged. She smelled like antiseptic and lavender. I held on too long. Then I left.

 The hospital was close, but each step felt like dragging a dead body—mine. The weight of hopelessness pressed on my shoulders, heavy and relentless. I kept hearing it—his voice.

 Marry me.

 Was he serious? Was it a game? A trap he’d enjoy watching me writhe in?

 The thought sickened me. The fact I was considering it? Worse.

 When I reached home, the front door was cracked open.

 No.

 I knew I locked it.

 I stepped in and there he was. Dain. Sprawled on the couch, reeking of sweat and stale alcohol. Passed out, useless.

 Disgust burned up my throat.

 I grabbed a cup, filled it with water, and dumped it on his face.

 “Get up, you asshole.”

 He bolted upright, sputtering. “What the fuck?! You little—”

 “You stole my money, Dain! Where is it?!”

 His bloodshot eyes lit up with smugness. “You had that much stashed and let Billy rough me up for peanuts? Selfish little bitch.”

 “You were never supposed to touch it. It was for Mom’s chemo.”

 He scoffed. “Why bother? She’s dying anyway.”

 That was it.

 “Shut up,” I snarled. “Shut your fucking mouth!”

 And then he slapped me.

 Hard.

 “That’s no way to talk to your father,” he slurred. “Didn’t your mother teach you—”

 I snapped.

 My eyes locked on a broken shard of glass near the table. I grabbed it, hand trembling but firm.

 “Get out. Now. Or I swear to God, I’ll gut you.”

 He paused. Blinked.

 The threat landed.

 He raised his hands, backing away. “Let’s not be hasty—”

 “I said get out!” I screamed, lunging a step forward.

 He stumbled. Then bolted.

 As the door slammed shut, I collapsed. Sinking to my knees, hands shaking, chest heaving. Then the tears came—violent, uncontrollable. Not soft sobs. This was grief, rage, helplessness all tangled in one.

 I sat in that storm for a long time.

 When the shaking slowed, I cleaned the house like it could scrub my shame. But I couldn’t outrun one thought:

 Mr. Sinclair.

 Maybe I should’ve listened. Maybe I should’ve asked more questions. Maybe—just maybe—he was serious.

 I hated him. Hated how cold he was. How powerful. How he always seemed ten steps ahead. But I had nothing left.

 Desperate people make stupid choices.

 I picked up my phone.

 He answered on the fourth ring.

 “About your offer…” My voice was hollow. “Were you serious?”

 “Yes.” No hesitation. No emotion. Just cold certainty.

 “Then I’ll take it,” I whispered. My pride shattered like glass on tile.

 “Good,” he said. Like he knew I’d fold. “We’ll discuss the terms tomorrow. At the office.”

 Click.

 Just like that, I traded my freedom for hope.

 If it saves her... maybe it’s worth it.

Chapter 4

AARON

 “She told me I’d fucking lost my mind and walked out,” I ranted, gripping the glass in my hand like it might keep me from exploding. Connor, the bastard, just laughed like I’d said the funniest joke of the year.

 “It isn’t funny,” I growled, though part of me knew it kind of was.

 “With that kind of approach, what did you expect, asshole?” he asked, finally sobering a little as he took a swig from his beer. “You’ve made her life a living hell for the past few months then out of nowhere, you waltz in and tell her to marry you? And you think she’d just... what? Say yes? Like you’re her Prince Charming or something? You’re fucking delusional.”

 I clenched my jaw, but I didn’t argue. Connor’s my best friend for a reason—he doesn’t sugarcoat shit. He never has. Doesn’t mean it’s easy to swallow when he spits the truth straight down your throat.

 “You came up with the idea,” I muttered bitterly, “Now I have to come up with Plan B. If I don’t get married within a month, all my hard work, my sacrifices, everything I’ve built, it’ll all go to waste.”

 Leave it to my grandfather to still have his claws in my life from beyond the grave. I hope you’re enjoying the show, old man. You always did love theatrics.

 The Will was read yesterday—my grandfather’s final punch from the beyond. According to it, I inherit 65% of the business empire, including the company we built together, only if I get married a month after his death. If I don’t, it all goes to my sorry excuse of a father.

 That will never happen. Over my dead fucking body.

 My grandfather practically raised me. He was the only real father figure I had growing up. I owe him everything. My drive, my grit, my ambition. But the man had a flair for drama, and apparently, he couldn’t rest in peace without one final power move. He knew how I felt about marriage. He knew the trauma my parents’ disaster of a union left behind. And yet, he still went ahead with this absurd condition.

 The worst part? It wasn’t just about getting married. No, that would’ve been too easy. It had to be for love. No business deal, no marriage of convenience. And the kicker? No divorce for at least three years. Classic him. Always pushing limits.

 So, Connor—brilliant, ruthless Connor—pitched a plan. “Marry your PA,” he said. “Fabricate a love story. You’ve known her long enough to sell it. Tell them you’ve been secretly seeing each other. No one will suspect it, and since you two clearly hate each other’s guts, there's no risk of catching feelings and complicating shit.”

 It was a sound plan. Elegant in its simplicity.

 Except... she said no.

 Of course, she said no.

 I downed the rest of my whiskey in one burning gulp. “I know what you’re about to ask. If I hate her so much, why the hell did I hire her?”

 Connor raised a brow but didn’t ask. He already knew.

 “She wasn’t my choice,” I continued bitterly. “My father hired her. Said I needed someone ‘competent’ watching over me.” That was his way of saying he didn’t trust me. I tried firing her the first week, but the contract was ironclad. The only way she could leave was if she quit. And believe me, I’ve tried to break her spirit. Overloaded her with work, gave her impossible deadlines, made her life absolute hell.”

 “She never cracked,” Connor said with a shrug. “She delivers. Every damn time. I’d keep her too.”

 “She’s obedient to a fault,” I muttered. “Quiet. Disciplined. Annoyingly professional. She never talks back—until today. Today she grew a spine. The one day I needed her to say yes, she decides she has standards.”

 “I was wondering when she would.” Connor smirked. “She picked the wrong fucking time, though.”

 “Damn right,” I grumbled.

 Before he could say more, his phone buzzed, and he slid off his barstool. “I gotta take this. Be back in a bit.”

 I nodded, swirling the remaining ice in my glass, lost in thought.

 That’s when I felt it—a hand on my shoulder.

 “Hey, handsome,” came a sultry voice, sugary sweet and painfully fake. I looked up to see a woman with barely enough fabric on her chest to qualify as a top. Her cleavage was practically in my face. “Can I buy you a drink?”

 Normally, I’d say yes. I’d take the distraction, the escape, the body and the night. But tonight wasn’t the night. Tonight, everything felt... wrong.

 “Not interested,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay calm.

 But she didn’t budge.

 “Just one drink, and then maybe—”

 My phone rang, cutting her off. I’ve never been more grateful for an interruption.

 I excused myself without looking back, stepping out into the cool night air as I answered.

 My eyebrows raised at the caller ID. My PA. Interesting.

 I picked up.

 “About your offer this morning…” Her voice was shaky, hesitant. “Were you... were you serious?”

 “Yes.” No hesitation. No need for it.

 “I... I’ll take it then.”

 I could hear the effort behind her words. The quiet surrender. Something must’ve broken her between this morning and now. I didn’t ask. It wasn’t curiosity holding me back—it was restraint. If she was desperate enough to agree, she’d reached her breaking point.

 And I wasn’t cruel enough to dig into that pain.

 “Good,” I said, my tone cool and measured. “We’ll discuss the terms and details tomorrow. At the office.”

 Then I ended the call and slid the phone back into my pocket.

 She said yes.

 This might actually work.

 Or... it might ruin everything.

 But for now, I’ve got a fiancée to make.

Chapter 5

VENUS

My alarm blared, jolting me awake from the uncomfortable position I had fallen asleep in. My neck ached, my back protested, and my mind was already racing.

I lay still for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling. Did I really agree to this?

The question looped in my head like a broken record. Did I really make the right choice?

I groaned and rubbed my eyes, forcing myself to sit up. I was doing this for Mom. I'd do anything for her. Anything.

Dragging myself out of bed, I went about my morning routine like a zombie. A quick shower, hair pulled into a messy bun, and makeup kept minimal—just enough to look alive. I slipped into a plain white shirt and an ash-grey skirt—one of the few decent outfits I'd managed to afford since I started working at Sinclair Tech. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was clean and presentable.

I checked the clock. Only five minutes left if I wanted to make it on time. Great.

Grabbing a granola bar from the nearly empty kitchen shelf, I rushed to the door. But when I opened it, I came to an abrupt stop. I was blocked by someone.

Billy.

"Bi—Billy?" I stammered, my heart skipping a beat.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, eyes cold. He owned the casino where my father, Dain, loved to gamble, get drunk, and bury his problems in white powder. This wouldn’t be his first time showing up at our place to collect a debt. And he always made my skin crawl. The way he looked at me? It gave me the creeps.

"Where’s Dain?" he gruffed, rubbing his scruffy beard.

"I don’t know," I replied quickly, stepping slightly back.

"He owes me money."

That can’t be right. He took all my whole savings yesterday. What the hell did he use it for, then?

"Like I said, I don’t know where he is. I kicked his drunken ass out last night."

Billy’s eyes narrowed slightly. "That so?"

"Look, Billy, I have somewhere to be, and I’m already running late."

He gave me a slow once-over, raising a brow before licking his lips in that disgusting way that made me want to gag.

"One day, Venus," he muttered, like a warning—or a promise I wanted nothing to do with—before walking away.

I slammed the door shut and locked it, chest heaving. Disgusting creep.

When I stepped outside and began walking to the main road, a car sped by, splashing a puddle of dirty water all over me.

"Asshole!" I screamed, but the driver didn’t stop or even glance back.

I looked down at my soaked clothes and groaned. I couldn’t walk into Sinclair Tech looking like this. I didn’t even have anything clean to change into. I hadn’t gotten around to doing my laundry this week.

Frustrated and wet, I went back inside and tore through my closet. Finally, I found an old sweater tucked in the back. It was faded, a little baggy, but dry and warm. It would have to do.

With no time left to mope, I hurried back outside and managed to hail a cab. But of course, traffic was an absolute nightmare. Cars crawled at a snail’s pace, horns blaring like a symphony of doom.

It was almost like the universe was throwing every obstacle at me. One final warning. One last chance to back out of the deal I’d made with the devil.

But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. This was for Mom. She needed me to do this.

I arrived twenty minutes late. Not the best impression to make on the first day of your fake engagement.

Sinclair Tech’s lobby was intimidating—marble floors, modern furniture, and pristine glass everywhere. The receptionist glanced at me and gave a polite smile. I forced one back and rushed to the elevator.

My heart pounded harder with every floor the elevator climbed. I adjusted my sweater, took a deep breath, and stepped out on the top floor.

The door to the executive conference room was already open.

Connor sat on the far side of the table, sipping coffee like he hadn’t a care in the world. Aaron stood by the window, suit perfectly tailored, arms crossed, exuding power and ice.

He turned when I entered. Our eyes met.

He looked at me, really looked, and something in his expression shifted for a fraction of a second before he masked it behind his usual cool detachment.

"You're late," he said, voice low and measured.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Traffic."

Connor raised a brow. "Or cold feet?"

"Neither," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I said I’d do this, and I meant it."

Aaron walked slowly toward me, closing the distance until he stood just inches away. I had to tilt my head to look up at him. The scent of his cologne made my stomach twist. It was unfair that a man so infuriating could smell so good.

He didn’t speak. Just stared.

"We'll draft the terms today," he said finally. "You’ll move in by the end of the week. Appearances matter, and if anyone suspects this is fake, we both lose."

Connor leaned back, amused. "So romantic already."

Aaron ignored him. "We'll set ground rules. You’ll attend dinners, events, whatever’s necessary. I’ll handle the media. You just smile and look like you’re hopelessly in love with me. Think you can manage that?"

I lifted my chin. "Do I get a say in the rules?"

His lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, more like a smirk. "We’ll see."

Connor stood and clapped his hands. "Well, this should be fun. Shall we get started, lovebirds?"

My heart thundered in my chest as I took a seat across from Aaron.

I was really doing this. Becoming his wife for three years.

All for my mother.

And maybe, just maybe, for something more I hadn’t fully admitted to myself yet.

Chapter 6

AARON

"I told you she’d come around," Connor said with a smug grin.

We were in my office, waiting for my PA to arrive so we could finalize the terms of our agreement. Connor owned one of the most prestigious law firms in New York City, and his reputation spoke for itself. There was no one better to represent my company.

"What changed her mind, though?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Who cares? The point is, she agreed," I replied, glancing at my watch. "She’s late. She’s never late."

"Maybe she changed her mind again," Connor smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Remembered what an absolute ass you’ve been to her."

"Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?" I groaned, leaning back in my chair.

"Nah," he said, unfazed. "Especially not when I’m right."

"Shut up," I mumbled, checking the time again.

"Relax. It’s probably traffic." He leaned back further. "Or maybe she realized you’re not worth the stress."

"Connor," I warned, glaring at him.

He raised his hands in mock surrender.

 "And would you please, for God’s sake, let me do the talking before you open your mouth and say something that scares her off?"

"Fine. Only because I want this to work."

Just then, the door opened—and Venus walked in wearing the ugliest sweater I had ever seen.

"You're late," I said.

She swallowed. "Traffic."

Connor raised a brow. "Or cold feet?"

"Neither," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I said I’d do this, and I meant it."

I stood and walked toward her slowly, closing the distance until there were only inches between us. She tilted her head to look up at me.

I didn’t speak. I just stared.

"We'll draft the terms today," I said finally. "You’ll move in by the end of the week. Appearances matter—and if anyone suspects this is fake, we both lose."

Connor leaned back, amused. "So romantic already."

I ignored him.

 "We’ll set ground rules. You’ll attend dinners, events—whatever’s necessary. I’ll handle the media. You just smile and look like you’re hopelessly in love with me. Think you can manage that?"

She lifted her chin. "Do I get a say in the rules?"

My lips curved slightly. "We’ll see."

Connor stood and clapped his hands. "Well, this should be fun. Shall we get started, lovebirds?"

She took a seat across from me.

"So, you two will announce your engagement on Saturday," Connor said, dropping the playfulness. "He’ll get you a ring before then, and in two weeks, you’ll be married." His gaze flicked between us. "Good enough?"

She hesitated but eventually nodded. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at the monstrosity of a sweater she wore. There was a bruise peeking out from under her makeup, but I didn’t comment on it.

"You’ll be moving in with him on Sunday. Get your things packed," Connor added.

He tried to hide his hesitation when he mentioned her stuff. Good—at least I wasn’t the only one who had issues with that sweater.

"Wait—what do you mean, move in together?" she asked, clearly surprised.

Connor raised a brow. "Well, every married couple lives together, don’t they?"

I gave him a dry look.

"I, uh… didn’t think of that," she muttered.

Connor chuckled.

"Like I said, you’ll be married for three years. You’re not allowed to be in a relationship with anyone else during the duration of the marriage." He pushed a contract toward her. "Go through it thoroughly. Everything you’re expected to do is listed. If you have any conditions, let me know."

He looked at me, who’d been quiet throughout, then back to her.

 "You’ll be paid a million dollars once the contract is signed, and the other million when the three years are completed."

Her eyes widened.

"This is..." she began, struggling for words. We both waited.

"Too little?" I asked, finally breaking my silence.

She turned to me, staring, completely still.

"Venus," Connor’s voice snapped her out of it.

"Yes—I meant it’s enough. More than enough."

My lips twisted slightly.

"Good. You have until Friday to go through it and sign." Connor handed her the file. She took it and stood to leave.

"And Venus?" he added, leaning back.

"You can’t utter a word about this to anyone. If you do, the deal is off."

"Of course," she replied.

And with that, she left the office.

Chapter 7

VENUS

“So, you two will announce your engagement on Saturday,” Connor said, his usual playfulness nowhere in sight. “He’ll get you a ring before then, and in two weeks, you’ll be married.” His gaze flicked between us. “Good enough?”

I hesitated, then eventually nodded. Mr. Can’t-Stop-Looking-Irritated, on the other hand, kept staring at me like I was the root of all his problems.

“All right then,” Connor continued. “You’ll be moving in with him on Sunday. Get your things packed.”

I could’ve sworn Aaron flinched at the mention of my stuff.

“Wait—what do you mean, move in together?” I hadn’t even considered that part when I agreed to this.

Connor raised a brow. “Well, every married couple lives together, don’t they?” Mr. Sinclair looked at him like he'd just been slapped. Guess he didn’t think of that part either.

“I, uh, didn’t think of that,” I muttered, earning a chuckle from Connor.

“Like I said, you'll be married for three years. You're not allowed to be in a relationship with anyone else during that time.” He pushed a contract toward me. “Go through it thoroughly. It lists everything you’re expected to do. If you have any conditions, let me know.”

He looked at Mr. Sinclair—who’d been silent the whole time—and then back at me. “You’ll be paid a million dollars when the contract is signed, and another million when the three years are complete.”

My eyes widened. That was more than the original offer.

“This is…” I fumbled for words. Both men looked at me, waiting.

“Too little?” Aaron spoke for the first time since we started talking. The man might be the devil’s right hand—or worse—but I wouldn’t deny his sheer masculinity. He stood at least 6’2", with thick black hair, hazel eyes, a straight nose with a slight crook—like it had been broken once—razor-sharp jawline, and full, kissable lips. Shame that someone who looked like that had the personality of a rabid wolf. Though, oddly enough, it seemed he saved most of that bite just for me.

“Venus.” Connor’s voice snapped me out of my daze. I’d zoned out right in front of them—embarrassing.

“Yes. I meant it’s enough. More than enough,” I said quickly.

Aaron’s lips twisted slightly.

“Good. You have until Friday to go through it and sign.” Connor handed me the file. I took it and stood to leave.

“And Venus?” Connor leaned back in his chair.

“You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone. If you do, the deal’s off.”

“Of course,” I said, then left the office.

Back at my desk, I opened the contract and skimmed through the conditions:

We’d have to live together for three years.

 I hadn’t thought that through. It can’t be that bad… right? Who am I kidding? He loathes me. Maybe if I stay out of his way, he’ll do the same.

There would need to be public displays of affection.

 He can barely look at me without curling his lip. Wonder how he’ll fake that one.

No other relationships or partners for the duration of our marriage.

 Not an issue. I’ve been single for years.

No one can find out about the contract.

 I’ll have to think of a story for my friends. I never planned on telling my mom anyway.

All my expenses would be covered throughout the marriage, in addition to the two-million-dollar settlement.

I can no longer work as his PA or anywhere else.

 Thank God. I won’t miss that for a second.

Breaching any of the terms would cost me five million dollars.

Ending the contract early? Another five million.

 Once I sign this, there's no escape. He made sure of that.

There were more conditions, but I’d go over those later. For now, I was still his PA.

It’s Tuesday today. I have until Friday to decide.

Is there even a decision to make? My life’s about to change—Mom’s too. We can finally leave that rotting apartment behind.

And no matter what anyone says—especially her—I’m not taking Dain with me.

Not after what he did. Not even Mom can change my mind.

I'll tell her. After she recovers.