The city hadn't changed. Still loud and still pretending it was the center of the universe. Juliet Ashcroft hated how much she missed it.
She stepped out of the town car and into the unholy mix of summer heat and sidewalk steam. Her long braid clung to the back of her neck and her sunglasses did nothing to hide the exhaustion behind her eyes. Two flights, a lost suitcase and a call from her father's secretary at 2 a.m. Copenhagen time saying "Mr. Ashcroft requests your presence immediately" had left her in no mood for pleasantries.
Ashcroft Tower loomed over her, steel and tinted glass, like a man trying too hard to be young. She walked in anyway.
The lobby still smelled like old money and citrus floor polish. A new receptionist glanced up, offered a quick smile and buzzed her through. Juliet didn't slow down. She knew where she was going. Fifteenth floor. Private dining room. The one with the long walnut table and terrible oil paintings.
When she stepped off the elevator, her father was already waiting.
"Juliet," Edward Ashcroft said, standing but not moving to hug her. "You look tired."
"Jet lag," she said, brushing past him. "And disappointment. Neither one wears well."
He made a sound like a chuckle. It wasn't.
She dropped her purse in an empty chair and scanned the room. Two place settings. A bottle of chilled wine. No third guest.
"This better not be a setup," she muttered, already pulling out her chair.
"Just lunch," he said. "And a discussion. About your future."
Juliet's eyebrow arched. "I thought I made that clear when I left."
"You were younger then. Less realistic."
She poured her own wine. "And you're still the same manipulative bastard."
His jaw tightened but he didn't rise to the bait. That unnerved her more than anything. Edward Ashcroft never passed on a power play.
They sat in tense silence for several minutes, long enough for the first course to arrive. Salmon served with mashed potatoes and a smear of something that looked expensive and tasted like nothing.
Juliet speared a forkful, set it down again, and crossed her arms.
"Out with it," she said. "Why am I really here?"
Edward dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin and leaned back. "Because you're still a Ashcroft and your last name comes with responsibilities."
She laughed once. Sharp and humorless. "I'm not interested in the company. I never was."
"You should be." He pushed a black folder across the table. "Because starting next week, you'll be the wife of the man taking it over."
Juliet stared at the folder.
She didn't touch it.
"Excuse me?"
"Xavier Locke. Locke Enterprises will be acquiring a majority stake. The merger is finalized. Your marriage is the final clause."
Juliet blinked once, then again slowly, like the air had gone thick around her. "You're not serious."
Edward poured more wine into his glass. "You're twenty seven. You've had your little rebellion. Now it's time to be useful."
She stood so fast her chair screeched backward. The server at the door flinched.
"You're auctioning me off."
"It's a contract. It benefits everyone."
"Except me."
Her father's voice stayed calm. "You'll be compensated. You'll maintain your independence in most matters. Public appearances, shared residence. Nothing excessive."
Juliet's hands curled into fists.
"Why him?" she spat.
Edward finally looked annoyed. "Because he's the only man in this city smart enough to hate me and powerful enough to make that hatred profitable."
Juliet didn't say another word.
She picked up the black folder, opened it with trembling fingers and saw her name printed in neat serif type under the phrase Marriage Binding Clause 13.1.
That was the moment the floor dropped out from under her.
The fork lay untouched beside her plate. Juliet sat down again, slowly, her spine stiff , the black folder opened in front of her.
"This is a joke," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. The documents inside were too clean. Too final. Her name appeared four times on the first page alone.
Edward Ashcroft sliced neatly into his salmon. "Does it look like I'm joking?"
"Xavier Locke," she repeated. "You want me to marry Xavier Locke."
He gestured toward the wine. "You might want to hydrate. The terms get denser."
She flipped the page.
Duration: One calendar year.
Public Appearance Minimum: Twice monthly.
Cohabitation Clause: Required.
Consummation Clause: Optional, but incentivized.
Her jaw snapped shut.
"You really expect him to agree to this?"
"He already has," her father said, casually spooning some sauce onto his plate. "His lawyers made a few adjustments. Nothing unworkable."
"You can't be serious," she said, her voice low and shaking. "You can't sign my life away like this."
"I didn't," he said smoothly. "You did. When you accepted the family trust. When you took that equity stake in Ashcroft East Holdings. When you let me pay off your European student debts."
Juliet's stomach turned.
Those things,bits of paper, email signatures, wire transfers,had felt distant. Abstract. Now they had claws.
"You always told me you were proud I forged my own path."
"I was," Edward said, "until I realized you were walking in circles. This is a chance to do something that matters."
Juliet scoffed. "You mean something that profits you."
He tilted his head, unbothered. "We all benefit."
"No," she said. "You do. Locke does. I get shoved into a penthouse with a man who probably thinks empathy is a tax bracket."
Edward's smile was thin. "Xavier Locke thinks you're pretty. That's more than I expected."
Her napkin landed on the table with a snap.
"I'm not doing it."
"Then you'll forfeit the trust, the condo, the Ashcroft East voting rights. You'll be free, Juliet. And very, very broke."
Juliet's teeth clenched hard enough her jaw hurt. She wanted to scream, to throw something. Instead, she looked at him,really looked at him and saw only a man who viewed her as a piece of leverage. Not a daughter.
"What makes you think I won't expose this?"
"Because Locke's legal team would bury you in paperwork until your hair turned gray." His voice was soft now. Almost kind. "You've always been the smartest one, Juliet. Be smart about this."
Juliet stood again, her movements sharp.
She didn't speak this time. She didn't scream or threaten.
She simply took the folder and walked out, heels clicking on the marble floor.