VIVI'S POV
He's even more terrifying up close.
Damien Cross doesn't ask permission to sit. He just does, sliding into the chair across from me like he owns the entire coffee shop. Maybe he does. He seems like the type who owns everything.
His eyes are the darkest I've ever seen. They don't just look at me—they see through me. Like he can read every secret I've ever kept.
"You're late," he says. His voice is deep and cold.
"I'm exactly on time," I reply, keeping my voice steady even though my heart is racing. "You said ten AM. It's ten AM."
"You were supposed to arrive five minutes early. It shows respect."
"I don't respect people who blackmail me."
A tiny smile crosses his face. It's not a nice smile. It's the smile of a predator who just found interesting prey.
"Fair enough," he says. "Let's skip the pleasantries then. Your family is drowning. Laurent Tech will be bankrupt in three weeks. Your father mortgaged everything to try to save it. You'll lose your apartment, your car, everything you own. Julian's family is suing you for two million dollars you don't have. In one month, you'll have nothing."
Each word is a knife. Precise. Brutal. True.
"You didn't bring me here to tell me things I already know," I say.
"No." He slides a folder across the table. "I brought you here to offer you a way out."
I don't touch the folder yet. "What kind of way out?"
"Open it."
I do. Inside is a contract. I scan the first page and my breath catches.
Marriage Contract.
"You want to marry me?" I ask, not believing what I'm reading.
"I want to hire you," he corrects. "Marriage is just the job title."
I keep reading. One year term. Separate living quarters within his penthouse. Required public appearances as a couple. Compensation that would not only pay off my father's debts but leave me wealthy when it's over.
"Why?" I ask, looking up at him.
"My board of directors thinks I'm unstable because I'm unmarried. Investors prefer CEOs who appear settled. My last relationship ended badly and very publicly. It damaged my reputation at a critical time. I'm expanding into Asian markets, and the old-fashioned businessmen there don't trust bachelors."
"So hire an actress."
"Actresses want romance and attention. You want survival. That makes you perfect." He leans back in his chair. "You'll play the part because you're desperate. When the year ends, we divorce quietly. You walk away rich enough to start over. I get the stable image I need. Everyone wins."
It's the most insulting, practical offer I've ever heard.
"What's the catch?" I ask.
"No catch. It's a business arrangement. Nothing more."
"There's always a catch."
His eyes narrow slightly. "Smart girl. Fine. One condition: you give me complete access to your financial expertise. You're good with numbers—don't look surprised, I know about your degree from Wharton. I want you to audit my company's books. Find any weaknesses before my competitors do."
My heart stops. He wants me to look at his financial records. That's exactly what I need to investigate who destroyed my father's company.
"Why would you trust me with that?" I ask carefully.
"Because you're desperate," he repeats. "And desperate people are predictable. You'll do the job perfectly because you can't afford to lose what I'm paying you."
He thinks I'm just some broken society girl. He has no idea about Aria Chen. No idea that I'm already planning to tear through his company's finances looking for whoever attacked Laurent Tech.
Unless this is a trap. Unless he knows everything and this is his way of controlling me.
"I need time to think," I say.
"No." His voice is firm. "You decide now. I have three other candidates lined up. You're my first choice because of your family name and your current situation, but I don't wait for anyone."
"That's not fair—"
"Fair?" He laughs, and it's not a pleasant sound. "Miss Laurent, life isn't fair. You learned that when your fiancé betrayed you. When your family chose your stepsister over you. When your father's company collapsed because someone destroyed it deliberately."
I freeze. "What did you say?"
"Laurent Tech didn't fail naturally. Someone murdered it. Systematically. Professionally." He watches my face carefully. "You didn't know?"
"I suspected," I admit. "But I couldn't prove it."
"I can prove it. I have the evidence. Who did it. How they did it. Why they did it." He pauses. "Marry me, and I'll give you everything. The money to save your family. The evidence to destroy your enemies. And access to resources you've never dreamed of."
"And if I say no?"
His smile turns cruel. "Then I make sure Julian and Gianna's wedding is the social event of the year. I'll personally invest in their future. Make them everything you were supposed to be. You'll watch them succeed while you lose everything. Including your cute little apartment on Madison Avenue."
He knows where I live. Of course he does.
"You're a bastard," I whisper.
"I'm a businessman. There's a difference." He stands up. "You have sixty seconds to decide. After that, I walk out and the offer disappears forever."
He pulls out his phone and sets a timer. I watch the seconds tick down.
60... 59... 58...
My mind races. This could be my chance to investigate Cross Global from the inside. To find out who destroyed my father's company. To get revenge on everyone who hurt me.
But it could also be a trap. Damien could be the one who attacked Laurent Tech. This could be his way of controlling me before I discover the truth.
45... 44... 43...
"I want one condition of my own," I say quickly.
He raises an eyebrow. "You're not in a position to negotiate."
"You said you want my financial expertise. Fine. But I want full transparency. Complete access to all your company records. Every file. Every account. No secrets."
Something flashes in his eyes. Surprise? Suspicion? I can't tell.
"Why?"
"Because if I'm going to represent your company as your wife, I need to understand the business completely. If there are problems, I need to see them before your enemies do."
It's a reasonable request. Professional. Exactly what a smart woman in my position would ask for.
"Agreed," he says after a long moment.
30... 29... 28...
"Then I accept," I say.
He stops the timer. Sits back down. Pulls out a pen.
"Sign here," he says, pointing to a line at the bottom of the contract.
My hand shakes slightly as I pick up the pen. This is insane. I'm agreeing to marry a man I met ten minutes ago. A man who might have destroyed my entire life. A man who definitely has the power to destroy me completely.
But I'm out of options. And maybe, just maybe, I can turn his trap against him.
I sign my name.
He signs his name below mine. His handwriting is sharp and precise, like everything else about him.
"Congratulations, Miss Laurent," he says. "You're now engaged to me. We sign the official papers tomorrow with lawyers present. The wedding is in one week."
"One week?" I choke. "That's impossible—"
"I don't believe in impossible." He stands again. "My assistant will contact you within the hour with details. Don't be late to any appointments. I hate tardiness."
He starts to walk away.
"Wait," I call after him. "You said you have evidence about who destroyed my father's company. Who was it?"
He turns back. His expression is unreadable.
"That information is worth millions. You think I'm giving it to you for free?"
"We have a deal—"
"We have a marriage contract. Not a friendship." His eyes are cold again. "You want that information? Earn it. Be the perfect wife. Do your job. Prove I can trust you. Then maybe I'll tell you who your real enemy is."
He walks out of the coffee shop, leaving me sitting there with a signed contract and a thousand questions.
I pull out my phone to text Victor, but it's already ringing.
Unknown number.
I answer. "Hello?"
"Vivienne Laurent?" A woman's voice. Professional. Icy. "This is Miranda Stone, Mr. Cross's executive assistant. I'm sending a car to pick you up in twenty minutes. We have appointments scheduled for your wedding dress fitting, jewelry selection, and hair consultation. Please don't be late. Mr. Cross hates waiting."
She hangs up before I can respond.
I sit there, stunned, staring at the contract in front of me.
What have I just done?
My phone buzzes with a text. From Damien:
"P.S. - I know about Aria Chen. I've known since the beginning. We'll discuss your little secret identity tonight at dinner. 7 PM. My penthouse. Don't even think abou
t running. I'll find you."
The coffee cup slips from my hand and shatters on the floor.