Emma Thompson had always believed in hard work, not miracles. But tonight, standing alone in her mother's bakery with the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the window, she found herself wishing for one.

Sweet Embrace had once been her mother's pride and joy. The bakery was small, tucked into a cozy corner of the neighborhood, but it had always been a place that made people feel at home. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hung in the air, clinging to faded memories of early mornings filled with laughter, of bustling afternoons where every table was packed. It was here that her mother had taught her to bake, passing down family recipes and telling stories of their roots. To Emma, this place was more than just a bakery—it was her last link to her mother, the only home she had left.

But that was all about to end.

Emma's eyes drifted to the bank's final notice on the counter. The stark red stamp across the page read FORECLOSURE in unforgiving letters, and it felt like a death sentence. She'd done everything she could think of to keep Sweet Embrace alive—pouring her savings into it, taking on extra shifts at a nearby diner, sacrificing her social life, her sleep, and almost every dream she'd had beyond these walls. She'd even tried fundraising and promoting the bakery online. But it hadn't been enough.

"I'm sorry, Mom," she whispered, clutching the paper in her hand. She'd promised to keep the bakery open, to protect her mother's dream. And now she was watching it slip away, powerless to stop it.

The bell over the door jingled, breaking the silence.

Emma jumped, her heart pounding as she turned to face the door. It was nearly midnight. She was certain she'd locked up hours ago. Whoever it was, she didn't have the energy to handle another customer—or worse, another debt collector.

But the man who stood in the doorway was neither.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he stepped into the soft glow of the overhead lights, his presence filling the small space in a way that made Emma's breath catch. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, the kind that screamed money and power, and his dark hair was styled perfectly, not a strand out of place. But it was his eyes that held her attention—intense, sharp, and fixed on her with an unreadable expression.

"Emma Thompson?" he asked, his voice smooth and low, with the kind of calm confidence that only came from knowing you were in control.

Emma swallowed, feeling a strange, prickling awareness spread through her. "Yes. And you are…?"

"Adrian Blackwood." He stepped closer, and as he did, Emma felt her nerves tense. She'd heard that name before. Adrian Blackwood was a billionaire with a reputation for ruthless business dealings, a man who knew how to make or break a company without batting an eye. His name was synonymous with power in circles far beyond her reach.

"What brings you here, Mr. Blackwood?" she asked, keeping her voice steady even as unease simmered beneath her calm exterior. She couldn't imagine what a man like him would want with her, and she didn't want to find out.

He glanced at the counter, where the foreclosure notice sat, his eyes lingering on the bold red letters before returning to her face. "I hear you're in a bit of trouble."

Emma's hands tightened on the edge of the counter. "That's none of your business."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving in a faint smile that somehow seemed both amused and slightly dangerous. "I make it my business to know what's happening in my city, Miss Thompson."

The way he said her name, soft and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine. She forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to be intimidated.

"If you're here to buy the bakery, I'm not interested," she said firmly. "I don't need a handout."

"Oh, I'm not offering charity." Adrian's smile deepened, a spark of intrigue in his eyes as he watched her. "This is a business proposition."

Emma frowned, feeling the weight of his gaze like a physical presence. There was something unsettlingly intense about him, something that seemed to strip away her defenses and leave her exposed. She could feel her pulse quickening, a mixture of fear and something else she couldn't quite name.

"What kind of proposition?" she asked, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.

He took another step forward, his gaze never wavering from hers. "I need a wife," he said, the words falling into the silence like stones into a pond.

Emma stared at him, certain she'd misheard. "A… a wife?"

He nodded, his expression serious, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as though he were waiting to see how she would react. "It's a temporary arrangement, of course. My father's will has… certain requirements. To inherit the family business, I need to be married. And you"—he paused, his gaze sweeping over her with a look that was almost appraising—"fit the bill."

Emma's heart raced. She couldn't tell if he was playing some kind of twisted game or if he was genuinely serious. Either way, his proposal was absurd.

"I don't even know you," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, his gaze steady. "You don't need to. This is a business arrangement, not a love story."

Emma felt a spark of anger flare up. "And why would you think I'd be interested in something like that?"

He smiled, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes. "Because you're out of options."

She clenched her jaw, hating the truth of his words, hating that he knew it, and most of all, hating that part of her—a very small, desperate part—was actually considering his offer.

"And what's in it for me?" she asked, forcing herself to keep her voice steady.

"You get to keep this place," he said, his tone casual, as though he were discussing the weather. "I'll pay off your debts, cover the bills, and ensure Sweet Embrace stays open for as long as you want. In exchange, you'll agree to be my wife—temporarily, of course."

Emma's mind spun, the weight of his offer settling heavily on her shoulders. This was insane. Marrying a stranger for money was something out of a bad romance novel, not real life. But then again, so was the mountain of debt sitting on her counter, the foreclosure notice that threatened to erase everything she and her mother had worked for.

"And when it's over?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"When it's over, you'll walk away with enough money to keep this place running forever, if that's what you want." He paused, his gaze softening just slightly. "And I'll get what I need as well."

Emma looked away, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She wanted to say no, to tell him he was crazy and send him out the door. But the weight of the bakery's debt loomed over her, reminding her of just how trapped she was. This man—this arrogant, wealthy stranger—was her only chance at saving her mother's dream.

"And if I say no?" she challenged, meeting his gaze.

Adrian's smile softened, a hint of something almost tender in his eyes. "Then I'll walk out that door, and you'll figure this out on your own. But something tells me that's not what you want."

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, each beat echoing with a mixture of fear and something else, something darker and more dangerous.

"I don't like being cornered," she said quietly.

"Good," he replied smoothly. "Neither do I. But this isn't about cornering you, Emma. This is about giving you a way out."

She hesitated, his words sinking in. A way out. That was exactly what she needed. But the thought of tying herself to a man like Adrian Blackwood, of stepping into his world and playing the role of his wife—it felt like trading one set of chains for another.

"Why me?" she asked, unable to hide her skepticism.

He smiled, a glint of admiration in his gaze. "Because you don't belong in my world. My family won't dig too deeply into your background, and you're not the type to complicate things. And… you're intriguing. I think we'll get along."

Emma swallowed, the faintest hint of warmth spreading through her at his words. She couldn't believe it—couldn't believe she was actually considering this. But as she looked at him, she felt an inexplicable pull, a strange, magnetic draw that defied logic.

"Midnight," he said, glancing at his watch. "That's how long you have to decide."

Emma took a shaky breath, her mind and heart warring. This was madness, pure and simple. But the image of her mother's smile, the warmth of Sweet Embrace, and the weight of everything she'd lose kept her grounded, reminding her of what was at stake.

"All right," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll do it."

Adrian's smile widened, and he extended his hand. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then took it, his grip warm and firm. A shiver ran down her spine as his fingers brushed against hers, a faint spark that left her feeling strangely exhilarated.

"Welcome to the madness, Mrs. Blackwood," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate promise. "I think we're going to have an interesting time together."

As he pulled her closer, Emma couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just stepped into a storm—a storm that would either save her or destroy everything she'd ever known.