Chapter 1: The Contract from Hell
Natalie Dawson had a habit of making terrible life choices.
But agreeing to a marriage contract with Leo Cavendish—a man so rich he probably bathed in diamond-infused water—was about to top them all.
She sat across from him in his ridiculous penthouse, feeling violently out of place. The couch she was sitting on probably cost more than her entire life savings (which, to be fair, consisted of exactly $4.72 and a coupon for half-off tacos).
Meanwhile, Leo looked annoyingly perfect.
His suit was impeccably tailored, his jawline could cut glass, and his expression was set to resting billionaire scowl. The kind that said, I make money in my sleep while you peasants suffer.
"I don't do charity," Leo said, sliding a thick contract toward her. "But I do deals. You need money. I need a wife. It's a win-win."
Natalie let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Oh, this is gold. You're actually out here shopping for a wife?"
Leo's lips twitched. "It's called outsourcing."
"Oh, my bad, I didn't realize marriage was a corporate merger now." She pushed the contract back toward him. "No thanks. I'll find another way to pay you back."
His dark eyes glinted. "You owe me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, sweetheart. If you had another way, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Natalie clenched her jaw. Okay, he had a tiny point.
The whole disaster had started twenty-four hours ago when she had—totally by accident—spilled an entire glass of expensive red wine on an even more expensive painting at a gallery event she had no business attending.
Long story short? The painting was ruined, the gallery owner had fainted, and Leo—who turned out to be the painting's owner—had looked at her like she was an untrained raccoon that had just wandered into his high-society event.
Now here they were.
"I don't need a wife, I need a placeholder," Leo continued, his voice smooth and infuriatingly logical. "One year. Public appearances only. You don't even have to pretend to like me."
She let out a sarcastic snort. "Oh wow, what a dream deal. Marriage, but without any of the perks."
Leo smirked. "If you're talking about intimacy, trust me—I'm not desperate enough to seduce my own wife."
Heat crawled up her neck. "I—you—who said anything about intimacy?!"
"I'm just clarifying expectations." His gaze flicked over her, assessing. "You're not really my type anyway."
Ouch.
Not that she cared what Leo Freaking Cavendish thought of her.
Nope. Not even a little bit.
"You have three months to get married, and I have two hundred and fifty grand in debt," she muttered. "Convenient timing."
"Fate," Leo said dryly.
"More like a nightmare," she shot back.
Leo exhaled, leaning forward. "Look, let's be honest. You don't have options. I do. And I'm offering you a way out."
She crossed her arms. "Why me?"
His gaze flicked to her mouth for a split second before he leaned back, utterly unreadable. "Because you're the least terrible option available."
Wow. Romance was so alive.
Still, Natalie swallowed hard, staring at the contract.
It was insane. It was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.
But two hundred and fifty thousand dollars didn't just fall out of the sky.
And Leo Cavendish was looking at her like he already knew he'd won.
Natalie narrowed her eyes.
Screw it. If she was going down, she was taking him with her.
She snatched the pen, twirling it between her fingers. "Fine," she said sweetly. "But I have rules."
Leo arched a brow. "Rules?"
"Yep. Number one: No touching."
He smirked. "Not a problem."
"Number two: No pet names."
"Sure, sweetheart."
She scowled. "That includes sweetheart, darling, babe, or anything remotely flirty."
Leo tapped his fingers on the table. "Alright, Mrs. Cavendish."
Natalie threw the pen at his stupid, perfect face.
This was going to be hell.
And it had only just begun.