The Hired Fiancée: Bound by Contract, Trapped by Desire

Dr. Julian Knight's hands moved with surgical precision as he aligned the last medical journal on his desk. The spines formed a perfect row, organized by publication date, each one exactly three millimeters from the edge. He stepped back and checked his watch-6:47 PM. Three minutes ahead of schedule.

His office at Blossom Central Hospital was a testament to his obsessive nature. Every pen had its designated spot in the custom-made organizer. Patient files were color-coded and arranged in alphabetical order. Even the angle of his diploma on the wall had been measured to ensure it hung at precisely ninety degrees.

Julian rolled his shoulders, feeling the familiar tension that came at the end of a twelve-hour surgery day. He'd saved three lives today-a routine Tuesday for one of the country's most sought-after cardiac surgeons. But as he prepared for his evening ritual of sanitizing his workspace, his phone buzzed against the glass surface of his desk.

*Mom* flashed across the screen.

He stared at it for two full rings before answering, knowing that delaying would only make the inevitable conversation worse.

"Hello, Mother."

"Julian, darling." Victoria Knight's voice carried the same commanding presence that had made her a Hollywood legend thirty years ago. "I trust you're not still at that hospital."

"I'm finishing up." He straightened a frame that was already perfectly straight. "How are you?"

"Concerned about my son, as usual. Have you given any thought to our Christmas discussion?"

Julian's jaw tightened. Three months ago, his mother had delivered an ultimatum disguised as a family gathering invitation: come home for Christmas, bring a woman, or prepare to meet the daughters of every society family she knew. At 37, Julian had managed to avoid her matchmaking schemes through sheer geographical distance and a punishing work schedule. But Victoria Knight was nothing if not persistent.

"Mother, we've discussed this. My work doesn't leave time for-"

"Nonsense. Your sister managed to find love, get married, and give me two beautiful grandchildren while building her own career." Victoria's tone sharpened with maternal authority. "Sarah will be here with the children, and I refuse to watch my son waste away in that sterile hospital while life passes him by."

Julian closed his eyes and counted to five-a coping mechanism his therapist had taught him years ago. The truth was more complicated than his demanding schedule. He'd tried dating, but his need for order, his compulsive routines, and his inability to let anyone into his carefully controlled world had driven away every woman who'd shown interest. How could he explain that he checked door locks seventeen times before bed, or that he couldn't eat off plates that weren't perfectly clean, or that unexpected changes in plans sent his anxiety spiraling into panic attacks?

"I understand your concerns," he said carefully. "But I don't think forcing a relationship is the answer."

"I'm not forcing anything, darling. I'm simply creating opportunities. The Whitmore's daughter is a lovely surgeon herself-very understanding of demanding careers. And Margaret Chen's daughter just finished law school. Accomplished, beautiful women who would appreciate a man of your caliber."

The thought of sitting through dinner with strangers, pretending to be interested while they judged his quirks and tried to fit into his impossibly rigid world, made his chest tighten. Julian loosened his tie and walked to his office window, looking out at the city lights beginning to twinkle in the December darkness.

"What if I'm already seeing someone?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

Silence stretched across the line-the kind of theatrical pause his mother had perfected during her acting days.

"Are you?" Her voice carried a mixture of hope and suspicion.

"I..." Julian's mind raced. He could lie, buy himself time, but Victoria Knight had an uncanny ability to detect deception. "It's complicated."

"Bring her for Christmas."

"Mother-"

"Julian Knight, you have two weeks to sort out whatever complications exist with this mystery woman. If she's real, I want to meet her. If she's not..." Victoria's voice took on the steel that had made studio executives tremble. "Well, let's just say I've already spoken to the Whitmores about Christmas dinner arrangements."

The line went dead.

Julian stared at his reflection in the window-perfectly groomed dark hair, expensive suit without a wrinkle, the kind of polished appearance that had graced medical journal covers. But behind his steel-gray eyes, panic was building like pressure in a damaged heart.

He had two weeks to find a woman willing to pretend to love a man who counted his steps, arranged his closet by color and fabric weight, and hadn't let anyone spend the night in his apartment since medical school. Two weeks to find someone who could convince his sharp-eyed mother that Julian Knight-the man who sanitized his hands forty-seven times a day and couldn't touch doorknobs without gloves-was capable of a normal relationship.

Julian reached for his hand sanitizer, pumped it exactly three times, and began his evening cleaning routine. But for the first time in years, his carefully ordered world felt like it was spinning completely out of control.

Outside his window, the city hummed with chaos he couldn't organize, couldn't predict, couldn't control. Somewhere in that maze of unpredictability, he needed to find salvation in the form of a woman desperate enough to spend Christmas with a stranger.

He just had no idea where to start looking.