Celeste stood outside the sleek, modern penthouse, her heart pounding in her chest. The building loomed over her like a fortress, its glass exterior reflecting the early morning sunlight. She smoothed her hands over her simple blouse and skirt, feeling woefully underdressed. But what did it matter? This wasn't a social call. It was a business meeting—one that could change her life.
The elevator ride to the top floor was silent, save for the soft hum of machinery. When the doors slid open, she stepped into a sprawling living room, its minimalist decor exuding cold sophistication. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, but Celeste barely noticed. Her attention was drawn to the man standing by the window, his back to her.
Elliot Sloane.
He turned slowly; his sharp features illuminated by the sunlight. His ice-blue eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, Celeste felt like a specimen under a microscope. He was taller than she had imagined, his broad shoulders accentuated by a perfectly tailored suit. But it wasn't his looks that unnerved her—it was the aura of control that surrounded him, as if he had already calculated every possible outcome of this meeting.
"Ms. Monroe," he said, his voice cool and measured. "Thank you for coming."
Celeste forced herself to stand tall, refusing to let him intimidate her. "You didn't exactly give me much of a choice."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Sit."
It wasn't a request. Celeste hesitated for a moment before taking a seat on the edge of a sleek leather sofa. Elliot remained standing; his hands clasped behind his back as he began to pace.
"I'll get straight to the point," he said, his tone businesslike. "I need a wife. You need financial stability. This arrangement benefits us both."
Celeste's eyes narrowed. "Arrangement? You make it sound like a business deal."
"It is," Elliot replied without hesitation. "One year of marriage. No intimacy required. I control your public image. In return, I'll clear your debts and restore your reputation."
Celeste's jaw tightened. The way he spoke—so cold, so detached—made her feel like a commodity. "And what do you get out of this?"
Elliot stopped pacing, his gaze piercing. "That's none of your concern."
She stood abruptly; her hands clenched at her sides. "You expect me to agree to this without knowing why? To let you control my life like some kind of puppet?"
Elliot's expression didn't change. "I expect you to consider your options. You're in no position to negotiate."
Celeste's cheeks flushed with anger. She turned on her heel, heading for the door. "This was a mistake."
"Was it?" Elliot's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Walk away, and you lose everything. Stay, and you might just get your life back."
She hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle. Every instinct screamed at her to leave, to refuse to be treated like this. But the weight of her desperation held her in place.
The Hidden Stakes
Elliot watched her closely, his mind already analyzing her every move. He had done his homework. He knew about the scandal, the debts, the ruined reputation. He knew she was desperate. But there was something else—something he hadn't anticipated.
Celeste Monroe wasn't like the others. She had fire, a resilience that intrigued him. Most people would have crumbled under the weight of her circumstances. But she hadn't. She was still standing, still fighting. And that made her dangerous.
"Why me?" Celeste asked suddenly, turning to face him. "You could have any woman you want. Why someone like me?"
Elliot's expression remained impassive. "You're convenient."
"Convenient?" she repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Is that all I am to you? A convenience?"
He didn't respond, but the flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps—gave him away. Celeste sensed it, the unspoken tension between them. There was more to this than he was letting on.
The Decision
Later that evening, Celeste sat on the floor of her apartment, surrounded by sketches and fabric swatches. The remnants of her dreams. Isla sat across from her, her expression a mix of concern and frustration.
"If you do this, you lose control of your life," Isla said, her voice firm. "You'll be at his mercy."
Celeste sighed, running a hand through her hair. "If I don't, I lose everything anyway. My career, my reputation, my future—it's all gone. This might be my only chance to get it back."
Isla leaned forward, her eyes pleading. "But at what cost, Celeste? You'll be tied to a man who sees you as nothing more than a pawn. Is that really what you want?"
Celeste didn't answer. She didn't have an answer. All she knew was that she was out of options. And Elliot Sloane, for all his coldness, had offered her a lifeline.
She picked up her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed his number. It rang twice before he answered.
"I'll marry you," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "But on one condition—I won't be your puppet."
There was a pause, and then Elliot's voice came through, low and amused. "We'll see about that."
The line went dead, and Celeste set the phone down, her heart racing. She had just made a deal with the devil. And she had no idea what it would cost her.
As Celeste stared at the phone, a strange sense of foreboding settled over her. She had agreed to Elliot's terms, but she knew this was only the beginning. The game had just started, and the stakes were higher than she could have imagined.