The Devil Has A Name

If Sabrina thought getting the man to agree to a marriage of convenience was difficult, she hadn't prepared for what came next—the whirlwind of legal documents, negotiations, and, worst of all, his impossible demands.

"You're really dragging this out, aren't you?" she huffed, arms crossed as she watched him scan yet another contract with that infuriatingly unreadable expression.

He barely spared her a glance. "Marriage is a serious matter."

"Funny, coming from the guy who agreed to it over meals," she shot back.

"You impressed me with your cooking. Now let's see if you can handle being my wife."

Sabrina let out a dramatic sigh, flopping into the chair across from him. "You know, for someone who basically lost a bet, you sure are making this difficult."

Thaddeus finally looked up, arching a brow. "I prefer to think of it as... ensuring quality control."

"Quality control? What, you think I'm gonna serve you undercooked vows?"

He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Let's just say, I don't do things halfway. If I'm going to have a wife—temporary or not—I expect efficiency."

"You want efficiency? Fine. Sign the damn papers, and I'll have the wedding menu planned by tonight."

His lips twitched in amusement. "Tempting. But I still have a few conditions."

Of course, he did. Sabrina groaned and dropped her head onto the table. "If one of them is me giving up my restaurant, this deal's off."

"Relax," he said smoothly. "I have no intention of taking your restaurant. But as my wife, you'll be expected to attend certain functions, uphold appearances, and—"

She held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa. Attend functions? Do I get hazard pay for that?"

"Consider it included in the package."

Sabrina sat back, eyeing him suspiciously. "Fine. But I have a condition too."

He tilted his head. "Oh?"

She pointed a finger at him. "No ridiculous demands. No last-minute rule changes. And most importantly—if you ever try to weasel out of this, I'm feeding you the spiciest thing on my menu until you beg for mercy."

For the first time, Thaddeus actually laughed. "Deal."

Thaddeus's smirk didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—amusement? Annoyance? Probably both.

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head as if considering his next move. "In a rush, are we?"

Sabrina crossed her arms, leaning forward. "Well, yeah. You think I made you a five-star meal just for fun? I need this done before you have a chance to change your mind."

His brows lifted. "You really don't trust me, do you?"

"I don't even trust my oven half the time," she replied, letting out a dry laugh. "So, when can we make it official?"

Thaddeus drummed his fingers on the table, watching her with a lazy kind of intensity. "Tomorrow."

Sabrina blinked. "Tomorrow?"

"You wanted fast. That's fast."

"Wait. Are you saying this because you actually mean it or because you just want to catch me off guard?"

"A little of both."

Sabrina narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms tighter. "Fine. Tomorrow it is."

Thaddeus leaned back in his chair, looking way too pleased with himself. "Good. Meet me at the City Hall. I'll have my assistant handle the paperwork. Just show up and sign."

"Oh, how romantic. I feel like a princess already."

"You wanted efficiency, not romance."

"That's right. And I better not find any weird clauses in that contract, like handing over my firstborn or promising to make you dinner every night."

Thaddeus tilted his head, pretending to think. "The dinner part doesn't sound so bad."

Sabrina groaned, throwing her hands up. "Of course, you'd say that."

He chuckled, then stood up, adjusting his cufflinks like this was just another business deal. "See you tomorrow, Chef."

She huffed, watching him leave. "Yeah, yeah. Hope you don't regret it."

As he walked out, he shot her one last glance over his shoulder. "I never regret a good deal."

She wasn't sure if that was supposed to be reassuring or not. But as the door closed behind him, Sabrina found herself wondering—what the hell had she gotten herself into?

Sabrina stood there, arms still crossed, watching him walk out like he hadn't just turned her life upside down. Then it hit her—like a frying pan to the face.

"Wait a second…" Her eyes widened. "I don't even know his name!"

Panic crept up her spine as she quickly ran through the events of the morning. She'd cooked for him, challenged him, somehow roped him into a marriage deal… and yet, she hadn't bothered to ask the most basic question.

"Oh, for the love of butter," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "How am I supposed to meet him tomorrow? In case he won't show up, where can I find him? Do I just… wander around the city and hope I bump into my mysterious almost-husband?"

Rayna, who had been eavesdropping from the kitchen doorway, snorted. "Wow, boss. That's next-level genius."

Sabrina shot her a glare. "Not helpful, Rayna!"

"Well, you could always put up a lost fiancé poster. 'Tall, arrogant, probably rich, enjoys making my life difficult. Reward: my sanity.'"

Sabrina groaned and slumped against the counter. "Ugh, this is a disaster."

And then another horrifying thought struck her.

"Wait—what if he just ghosted me? What if this was some kind of joke and I fell for it like an absolute fool?"

Rayna patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Well, look at the bright side. At least you got him to eat your cooking."

Sabrina groaned louder. "I should've made him sign something first!"

Rayna folded her arms, clearly enjoying Sabrina's meltdown a little too much. "So, what's the plan, genius? You just made a deal with a guy whose name you don't know, and you have no idea where to find him."

Sabrina dragged a hand down her face. "I don't know, okay? I was a little busy making sure my entire future didn't go up in flames over a plate of chicken roulade!"

Rayna smirked. "Uh-huh. And now?"

Sabrina straightened, determination flickering in her eyes. "Now… I think I need to track him down before he conveniently forgets about our little arrangement."

"And how exactly are you gonna do that? Stalk every fancy restaurant in town until you run into him?"

"I have to think! He was obviously someone important, rich, and annoyingly smug. There has to be a way to find him." She tapped her chin, then gasped. "The reservation! He had to give a name when he booked a table!"

Rayna snapped her fingers. "Ooh, good one. Go check with the host stand."

Sabrina bolted out of the kitchen and nearly tripped over a mop bucket on the way. Skidding to a stop at the front desk, she flashed her best "I-totally-have-my-life-together" smile at the receptionist.

"Hey, quick question! The guy sitting at table five just now—what name was the reservation under?"

The receptionist blinked. "Uh… Mr. Gillcrest."

Sabrina felt her stomach drop. "Gillcrest?"

"Yep. Thaddeus Gillcrest."

Sabrina stared, mouth slightly open. "You mean to tell me I just accidentally got engaged to Thaddeus freaking Gillcrest?"

Rayna, who had caught up, whistled. "Damn, boss. Go big or go home."

Sabrina let out a strangled laugh. "Yeah? Well, I might be going home jobless if this guy decides to screw me over."

"Guess you better make sure he doesn't." 

"Okay, okay… this is fine. Totally fine."

"You sure? Because you kinda look like you're about to pass out."

"I am," Sabrina admitted. "But I don't have time for that. I need to find Thaddeus Gillcrest before he conveniently forgets our deal."

"Well, good luck with that. Billionaires don't exactly leave their addresses lying around."

"Wait—what about his payment? He has to settle the bill before leaving, right?" Sabrina spun toward the receptionist. "Has he paid yet?"

The receptionist frowned, checking the system. "Uh… actually, no. He mentioned he'd have his assistant take care of it."

"Of course he did. Because why would Mr. Billionaire Gillcrest ever dirty his hands with something as common as a credit card?"

"Well, at least we know his name."

That was all Sabrina needed to hear. She turned on her heel and marched back toward the dining hall, her ponytail swinging like a battle flag. She wasn't about to let this arrogant billionaire slip through her fingers—not when her entire future was on the line.

***

Thaddeus couldn't stop thinking about her.

It was ridiculous. It was inconvenient. And it was absolutely, maddeningly distracting.

But as much as he tried to focus on work, his thoughts kept drifting back to that sharp-tongued chef and the deal they had struck.

He tapped his fingers against his desk, scowling at the untouched documents in front of him. This was absurd. He had negotiated multi-million-dollar contracts without a second thought, but one infuriating woman with a ponytail and a frying pan had completely derailed his focus.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her smug grin, heard the way she had so casually thrown the idea of marriage in his face like it was just another item on a menu. Worse, he could still taste the damn delicious food.

With an irritated sigh, he leaned back in his chair and muttered, "This is getting out of hand."

Thaddeus tried to shove her out of his mind, but she lingered like the aftertaste of a perfectly seasoned dish—annoyingly unforgettable.

He pulled out his phone, hesitated for a second, then scoffed at himself. What was he even supposed to do? Call her up and ask if she was still serious about that ridiculous marriage deal?

No. That would be admitting she had gotten under his skin.

Instead, he straightened his tie, picked up a pen, and forced his attention back to his work. He had an empire to run—he had no time to be thinking about some feisty, stubborn chef who smelled like garlic and trouble.

…And yet, he still wasn't getting anything done.

Thaddeus drummed his fingers against the desk again, his thoughts refusing to cooperate. The morning had been a whirlwind of sharp words, an unexpected deal, and the most infuriating woman he'd ever met—that woman who had somehow outmaneuvered him at his own game.

And then, like a slap to the face, realization struck him.

He didn't even know her name.

His fingers froze mid-tap. How had he, Thaddeus Gillcrest, a man known for being meticulous in his business dealings, managed to agree to a marriage—a marriage—without so much as asking for the woman's name?

A long sigh escaped him as he leaned back, rubbing his forehead. He had walked into that restaurant for a simple breakfast, and now, not only was he engaged, but he was engaged to someone he couldn't even properly address.

For the first time in his life, he felt like the biggest fool in the room.

Thaddeus exhaled sharply, shaking his head at his own carelessness. There was only one way to fix this.

He reached for the intercom and pressed the button. "Jared, get in here. Now."

A few seconds later, the door swung open, and in walked Jared Holt—his ever-efficient, mildly overworked assistant. The man barely blinked at the abrupt summons, already holding a notepad as if prepared for another impossible request.

"Sir?" Jared asked, his tone neutral but laced with the slightest hint of what mess have you gotten yourself into this time?

"I need you to find someone for me."

Jared didn't even flinch. "Name?"

Thaddeus hesitated for a beat before muttering, "That's the problem. I don't know it."

For the first time, Jared blinked. Then, very, very slowly, he lowered his notepad. "I see."

No, he absolutely did not see, but Thaddeus was in no mood for sarcasm. "Just find the woman who owns that small restaurant I went to this morning. I need her full name, address, and anything else useful. Get it done fast."

Jared pursed his lips, nodding. "Of course, sir." But as he turned to leave, Thaddeus caught the almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Great. Even his assistant thought he was losing it.

Jared arched a brow, flipping through his mental catalog of Thaddeus's recent outings. "You mean… The Blue Fern?" he asked with cautious curiosity.

Thaddeus snapped his fingers. "Yes. That one."

Jared scribbled it down, then glanced up. "And just to clarify, sir… this is the same place where you issued an impromptu food challenge to a chef, correct?"

Thaddeus's jaw ticked. "Just get me the information, Jared."

Jared pressed his lips together, nodding. "Understood. I'll have everything within the hour."

Before Jared could turn to leave, Thaddeus spoke again. "And one more thing—I need you to handle the paperwork for my marriage registration. Submit it to City Hall before the end of the day."

Jared blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Marriage registration?"

Thaddeus leveled him with a cool stare. "You heard me. My marriage with the chef from The Blue Fern. That's why I asked you to get more information about her. Make sure everything is in place before I arrive tomorrow morning. I don't want any delays."

Jared's brows lifted slightly, but he knew better than to question his boss. Still, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before clearing his throat. "Understood. I'll handle the paperwork."

Thaddeus exhaled, rubbing his temple. This wasn't how he had ever imagined settling the matter of marriage—but then again, when had his boss ever planned to marry at all?

Jared hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Understood. I'll take care of it."

Thaddeus exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as Jared exited the office. He had set the wheels in motion. There was no turning back now.

He still wasn't sure why he needed to know more about her. But one thing was certain—he wasn't done with her, and something told him she wasn't done with him either.