Hired To Be His Fake Wife, Now He's Obsessed

My mother's hospital bill was $50,000.

And I had exactly $32 in my bank account.

"Miss Hayes, if we don't get the deposit by Friday, we'll have to take Mrs. Hayes off the priority list," the nurse said on the phone, her voice almost sympathetic.

I stared at the eviction notice taped to our tiny apartment door. Second one this month.

That was when the email came in.

Subject: URGENT: Contract Marriage - $100,000 for 6 Months.

I thought it was spam. Or worse, a trafficking scam. But the sender was Sterling & Associates - the biggest law firm in Manhattan.

I clicked it.

We represent a private client seeking a contractual wife for a period of six months. Requirements: Female, 22-26, presentable, educated, no criminal record, no current romantic attachments. Compensation: $100,000 plus all living expenses, paid in full upon completion. Discretion is absolute. If interested, be at 590 Park Avenue, Penthouse A, tonight at 8 PM. Come alone.

It was crazy. Insane. The kind of thing you see in romance novels.

But $100,000 would save my mom. It would save our home.

I had nothing left to lose.

590 Park Avenue was not an apartment. It was a kingdom in the sky.

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse, and I was met by a wall of glass overlooking all of New York. And standing in front of it, with his back to me, was the tallest, broadest man I had ever seen.

He was in a black suit that looked like it was sewn onto him. Dark hair, perfectly styled.

He turned around.

And I forgot how to breathe.

He was beautiful. Not handsome - beautiful. Like a statue that had been carved too perfectly. Sharp jaw, cold grey eyes that looked right through me, and lips that were pressed into a hard line.

He looked me up and down, and his frown deepened.

"You're late," he said. His voice was deep and cold enough to freeze water.

"I'm - I'm Lila. Lila Hayes. For the -"

"I know who you are. I had you background-checked before you even got in the elevator." He walked to his desk and picked up a thick file. "Lila Hayes, 24. Mother - cancer patient at St. Jude's. Father - absent. $12,000 in student debt. Works at a bookstore for $15 an hour. You're evicted in three days."

My cheeks burned with shame. "You didn't have to -"

"I need to know what I'm buying," he said bluntly.

Buying.

"I'm not for sale," I whispered.

"You are tonight. Sit."

I sat, my hands shaking.

He slid a document across the polished marble table towards me. It was thick. At least 20 pages.

"This is a standard non-disclosure and marital contract," he said. "My name is Damien Sterling. I am 31. CEO of Sterling Industries. My grandfather is dying. His last wish is to see me married before he passes. He is... traditional. He will not leave me controlling shares of the company unless I am married and 'settled.'"

"So you want me to be your fake wife?"

"I want you to be my wife. On paper, in public, in front of my family. For six months. You will live here. You will attend events with me. You will convince my grandfather that I am a changed man. In return, you get $100,000. Your mother's bills will be paid. Your debt will be cleared. At the end of six months, we divorce quietly, you sign another NDA, and you never see me again."

He said it like he was ordering coffee. No emotion.

It sounded simple. Too simple.

"What's the catch?" I asked.

He stared at me, his grey eyes dark.

"There are rules," he said. "One: No falling in love. Two: No sex. I do not mix business with pleasure. Three: You do not touch my things. You do not ask about my business. And four: You do absolutely nothing to embarrass me."

No falling in love? As if I would fall for a cold robot like him.

"And if I break a rule?"

"I will ruin you." He said it so calmly that I knew he meant it. "Do you understand?"

I should have walked out. Every instinct told me to run.

But then I thought of my mom's face. The hospital machines.

"Okay," I said, my voice barely audible. "I'll do it."

Something flashed in his eyes. Surprise? Relief?

He held out a Montblanc pen.

"Sign."

I took the pen. My hand was trembling so hard I could barely write my name. Lila Hayes.

The moment I signed, he took the document back and looked at me. For the first time, his eyes softened - just a fraction.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Sterling," he whispered.

And then, without warning, he leaned across the table, took my chin in his large, warm hand, and pulled me close.

His lips were inches from mine. I could feel his breath.

"One more rule, Lila," he murmured, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "From now on, you only look at me like that. Like you're obsessed with me. Because my grandfather is watching. Always."

My heart slammed against my chest.

This was a mistake. A huge, terrible mistake.

Because for a second, when he touched me, I didn't have to pretend at all.