Elizabeth's hands trembled as she sat alone in her apartment that evening, her laptop open in front of her with the blank screen reflecting her stunned face. She'd agreed to marry Xavier Cole. That was real. She could almost hear her mother's voice, questioning what she was thinking. Even the creaky pipes in her old, cramped apartment seemed to protest. And yet, as crazy as it sounded, it had been the only option.
Before she could second-guess herself, a notification pinged on her phone. She glanced down and saw a message from an unknown number.
Xavier Cole: I'll send over a preliminary contract tonight. Let's meet tomorrow to discuss terms.
Her heart skipped a beat. There it was—the formality, the cold calculation, and no hint of humanity in his message. It only reinforced her initial impression of Xavier as a man who treated everything as a transaction, even marriage. Part of her had hoped he'd at least acknowledge how strange this situation was. But Xavier was practical, pragmatic, and ultimately indifferent. For him, this was just another deal.
By the time she received the contract later that night, Elizabeth had already spent hours trying to imagine the details of the arrangement. What would life look like married to a man like him? Would she move into his penthouse, attend corporate events on his arm, and pretend to be in love?
She opened the file and scanned it, her eyes moving quickly down the page. The language was precise, every clause and condition crafted to protect both of their interests. She found herself reading the key lines out loud:
"Upon marriage, Mrs. Hayes will be granted the necessary funds to cover all debt and operational costs for Hayes Gallery. The marriage shall last no less than twelve months, during which both parties will reside under the same roof and participate in public events as necessary. Any violation of the contract terms will result in forfeiture of financial compensation."
Elizabeth stopped reading. Residency requirement? She sighed, closing the laptop, feeling a pit of dread forming in her stomach. Living with him had never occurred to her. This wasn't going to be an easy, invisible arrangement. It would mean a year of constant reminders that she'd sacrificed her independence for the sake of the gallery.
Yet, as she lay in bed that night, one image kept surfacing: her mother, standing in the middle of the gallery, her face filled with pride as she showed Elizabeth each new piece. Her mother had wanted the gallery to be a haven for local artists, a place where art could thrive even in a city dominated by corporations. Losing it would feel like losing her mother all over again.
By morning, her nerves had settled into grim determination. She would do this—for the gallery, for her mother's memory, and for herself.
The following afternoon, Elizabeth walked into the same building, now slightly more prepared for what she was about to face. She knew this arrangement would be businesslike and cold, but as she entered Xavier's office, she still felt a jolt of nerves. He was standing by the window, his gaze distant as he watched the skyline of the city. When he turned to face her, his expression was as unreadable as ever.
"Miss Hayes," he greeted her, gesturing for her to sit in front of the polished mahogany desk.
She took a seat, clutching her purse tightly in her lap as he sat across from her, his gray eyes fixed on her with that intense focus she was beginning to recognize. Without any preamble, he slid the contract across the desk.
"I assume you've reviewed the terms."
Elizabeth nodded, though the contract had left her with a hundred questions. She took a steadying breath, deciding to start with the most pressing one.
"There's a line here about us living together," she began, keeping her tone as calm as she could manage. "I didn't realize that would be part of the arrangement."
Xavier tilted his head slightly, regarding her with an expression that bordered on amused disbelief. "Did you really think we could convince anyone of a real marriage if we lived separately? My grandmother is no fool, Elizabeth. She's suspicious by nature, and she'll scrutinize everything. This is about appearances. We have to make this look legitimate."
The casual way he said her name caught her off guard. She couldn't help feeling that he was doing it deliberately, testing her boundaries.
"I understand that," she replied, choosing her words carefully. "But isn't there any way we can keep this… minimal? I'm not exactly comfortable moving into your home."
For the first time, a hint of emotion flickered in his gaze, though she couldn't tell if it was impatience or mild irritation.
"We'll maintain separate bedrooms, and you'll have your privacy," he replied. "But this isn't negotiable, Miss Hayes. Living under the same roof is essential to make this convincing. If that's a dealbreaker, feel free to walk away."
Elizabeth swallowed, realizing she'd hit a wall. For him, this arrangement was simply a matter of strategy, and he wouldn't budge on anything that might threaten its success.
"All right," she said finally, meeting his gaze. "I'll move in. But there's something I want in return."
Xavier's brow lifted slightly, a faint glimmer of curiosity in his otherwise stoic expression. "Go on."
"The gallery," she said, the words spilling out faster than she'd intended. "I want to keep full creative control. You won't interfere with my decisions about what pieces we show, how we handle our exhibitions, or the artists we support. The gallery remains mine in spirit, not just in name."
For the first time since she'd met him, Xavier seemed to consider her request. He leaned back in his chair, studying her, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind.
"Agreed," he said, surprising her. "The gallery will be yours to manage as you see fit. However, the financial aspects remain under my supervision."
Elizabeth felt a surge of relief, even if she'd only won a small victory. She could live with that compromise. Her mother's vision would remain intact, and that was what mattered most.
Xavier closed the contract with a brisk nod. "Now that the details are settled, there's one last thing we'll need."
She glanced at him, puzzled. "What's that?"
"An engagement ring," he replied, his tone dry. "If we're to keep up appearances, we'll need to make a convincing show of it. I've arranged for a fitting tomorrow morning."
Elizabeth's cheeks flushed at the thought of picking out a ring with a man she barely knew. She opened her mouth to protest, but something in his gaze stopped her.
"Fine," she said, forcing herself to sound unaffected. "I'll be there."
As she stood to leave, she caught a glimmer of something in his expression—something almost like satisfaction. She couldn't help but feel that this was exactly how he'd planned it, maneuvering her into a situation where she had no choice but to comply with every one of his terms.
But as she left his office, a new determination filled her. Xavier Cole may have gotten her to agree to this insane arrangement, but that didn't mean she would let him control her. This was a means to an end, nothing more. And once it was over, she'd reclaim her life on her own terms.
The next morning, Elizabeth found herself in the heart of a luxury jewelry store, surrounded by displays of glittering rings that seemed as surreal as the entire situation. She'd imagined her wedding day countless times over the years, but it had never looked anything like this. No romantic proposal, no whispered promises of forever. Just a cold transaction.
Xavier arrived a few minutes later, glancing at the array of rings with detached interest.
"Do you have a preference?" he asked, his tone more businesslike than romantic.
Elizabeth stared at him, wondering if he was even aware of how bizarre this all was.