oss the ballroom. He had that intense stare like he could see through her clothes and her fears at once. She quickly looked away, feeling small under the shimmer of the chandelier and the weight

ile. "That wasn't meant to insult you. It's the truth." Zara looked at him for a long second, then laughed. "This is mad." "Yes," he agreed. "But are you interested?" She stared at him. Zara didn't answer right away. She left the gala that night with Tari's business card in her purse and chaos in her chest. Ten million naira was no joke. It wasn't just rent-it was studio space, equipment, new clients, a rebrand... a new life. But could she really fake a relationship? With someone like *him*? Tari Amadi wasn't just rich. He was intimidating. Controlled. Emotionless. She couldn't read him-and that alone was risky. The next morning, Zara stood in her workshop staring at the card like it was cursed. She hadn't told Tara yet. Her friend would either scream or call him a "demonic Yahoo CEO." But something inside her whispered: *Call him.* So she did. *** They met again two days later at a private lounge. Not public. No cameras. Just them. Tari arrived first-suit, quiet confidence, and a laptop bag. Zara came in jeans and a blouse, determined not to be intimidated. He nodded as she sat down. "No cameras," she said. "Good start." He passed her a document. "The contract." Zara blinked. "You drew up an actual contract?" "I don't do anything without structure." She flipped through the pages. Everything was there: timeline (6 weeks), roles (appear at two family events, a weekend trip, and some social media posts), and payment breakdown. "What's this clause about privacy boundaries?" she asked, raising a brow. Tari leaned back. "It means I won't pry into your personal life, and you won't pry into mine. We don't pretend when no one's watching." "No sleeping in the same room?" "Only when necessary-and with boundaries." Zara folded her arms. "And what if your family wants us to kiss? Or act all couple-y in public?" "We'll do what's needed for the illusion. Nothing more." She closed the file slowly. "Why not just hire an actress?" "Too polished. You're authentic. And less likely to leak this to the press for attention." Zara stared at him. "You really don't trust people, do you?" "I trust contracts," he said simply. For a moment, silence hovered between them. Zara broke it. "Fine. I'll do it." Tari didn't smile. He simply nodded. "We begin tomorrow. My driver will pick you up at 8 a.m." *** Zara didn't sleep much that night. She packed three outfits, two heels, and a nervous heart. She told Tara everything-well, almost everything. "You're mad," Tara said. "But if he wires even one million first, I'll personally escort you to all family functions." "Half first. Five million," Zara whispered. Tara clutched her chest dramatically. Zara laughed, but inside, she still wasn't sure she had made the right decision. But she needed that money-and something inside her was ready for this chaos. *** Day one began with a black SUV