Evelyn Carter had lost count of how many times she had told herself that today would be the day she quit.
Yet, here she was—once again—standing in front of Damian Lancaster's office, gripping the resignation letter in her hands like a lifeline.
The sleek, modern space radiated power, just like the man inside. Behind the massive glass walls, Damian sat at his desk, flipping through documents with an air of disinterest. Tall, imposing, and effortlessly handsome, he had the kind of presence that made entire boardrooms fall silent.
Not her, though.
Steeling herself, Evelyn knocked once before stepping inside.
"Mr. Lancaster, I need to talk."
Damian didn't bother looking up. "Talk while you walk."
She clenched her jaw. He was always like this—distracted, detached, as if everyone else's time belonged to him.
"This isn't something I can say while you're signing papers," she said, dropping the crisp envelope onto his desk. "I'm resigning."
That got his attention. The pen in his hand stilled, and for the first time in the conversation, his piercing blue eyes flicked up to meet hers. A slow, assessing glance.
Then, calmly—as if she'd told him she was switching coffee brands—he said, "No."
Evelyn blinked. "Excuse me?"
"No." He pushed the letter back toward her without reading it. "You're not quitting."
She exhaled sharply. "Damian, you don't get to decide that. I've made up my mind."
He leaned back, studying her. His silence stretched long enough to make her uneasy.
Then, he spoke. "Sit."
Against her better judgment, she did.
Damian laced his fingers together, his expression unreadable. "Why do you want to quit?"
She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Because this job is exhausting. You're exhausting. And—"
"How much do you need?"
Evelyn stiffened. "What?"
His voice remained cool. "You're quitting for financial reasons, aren't you? Your brother's medical bills. The debt. I know everything."
Her stomach twisted. She hated that he knew. Hated that he was right.
"This isn't about money," she said through gritted teeth.
"Everything is about money."
She was about to argue when he continued, "If you really want to leave, I have a counteroffer."
Her pulse quickened. "What kind of counteroffer?"
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. Then, in the same smooth, controlled tone he used in business meetings, he said—
"Marry me."
Evelyn's breath hitched. "What?"
His expression didn't waver. "I need a wife, and you need financial stability. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."
She stared at him, waiting for the punchline. "You can't be serious."
"I don't make jokes in business."
A dry laugh escaped her lips. "Marriage isn't business."
Damian arched a brow. "In my world, it is."
Evelyn shook her head. "Why me?" You have a line of women who would marry you in a heartbeat."
"Exactly. They would marry me." He held her gaze. "I need someone who won't."
The weight of his words settled between them.
This wasn't about love.
It was about convenience.
"You're insane," she whispered.
Damian didn't deny it.
"Think about it, Evelyn." His voice was softer now, almost persuasive. "You walk away from this job, you walk away from the stability it gives you. But if you stay—if you agree—you'll never have to worry about money again."
Her hands curled into fists in her lap. "And in return?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "In return, you become my wife."
Evelyn's world tilted as the weight of his offer crashed down on her.
Marriage.
To him?