A Dangerous Proposition

Emma's fingers curled around the edges of the chair as she sat across from Alexander Westwood in his vast, intimidating office. The air felt heavier here, the scent of leather and expensive cologne surrounding her, suffocating in its luxury.

She knew this was coming.

A man like him—ruthless, powerful, and impossibly calculating—never did anything without a reason.

"You owe me, Emma."

His words echoed in her head, smooth yet laced with an undeniable authority.

She swallowed, forcing herself to remain calm. "And what exactly do you expect in return, Mr. Westwood?"

Alexander smirked slightly, as if amused by her attempt at composure. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly against the sleek mahogany desk between them.

"You're smart," he murmured. "I like that."

Emma stayed silent, waiting.

Then, he leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "I need a fiancée."

The words hit her like a punch to the stomach.

She blinked, certain she had misheard him. "Excuse me?"

Alexander exhaled slowly, as if explaining something incredibly simple. "A temporary one, of course. Just long enough to handle a situation that requires me to appear… settled."

Emma could only stare.

This had to be a joke. A cruel, ridiculous joke.

She let out a nervous chuckle, shaking her head. "I think you have the wrong person, Mr. Westwood. There are plenty of women who would happily—"

"I'm not asking," he interrupted, his voice calm but firm.

Emma's breath hitched.

He wasn't asking.

Her fingers clenched. "Why me?"

Alexander regarded her for a moment before answering. "Because you have nothing to gain from this."

That stunned her. "What?"

He tilted his head slightly. "A woman with money, status, or ambition would take this opportunity and try to make it permanent. They would use me, cling to me."

Emma felt her pulse quicken. "And you think I wouldn't?"

"You?" His lips curved into something dangerously close to a smirk. "You look at me like you can't wait to escape."

Emma's stomach twisted. He wasn't wrong.

Still, this was insane.

"I don't understand," she said slowly. "Why do you need a fiancée at all?"

Alexander's expression darkened slightly. He stood and walked toward the massive windows overlooking the city skyline.

"My grandfather," he said at last. "He's old-fashioned. He believes a man in my position should be settled by now. And he's been… persistent."

Emma frowned. "So, you want me to lie to your family?"

His gaze flickered back to her. "Not just my family. My business partners, the media, everyone who watches my every move."

Emma exhaled, trying to wrap her head around the situation.

A fake engagement with Alexander Westwood?

This wasn't a romantic fairytale. This was a business deal.

And yet…

She needed money.

She needed to pay her mother's medical bills.

She needed to survive.

Alexander must have seen the hesitation in her eyes because he delivered the final blow.

"I'll pay off your debts."

Emma's breath caught.

Her heart pounded against her ribs.

"My debts?" she whispered.

Alexander's expression remained unreadable. "Every cent. Gone."

It was a lifeline. A way out of the crushing weight that had been suffocating her for years.

But at what cost?

"What do you get out of this?" she asked cautiously.

His lips curved into that dangerous smirk again.

"You," he said simply.

Her heart skipped a beat.

—

The Conditions of the Deal

Emma's hands trembled as she stared at the contract in front of her.

It was real.

It was legal.

And it was terrifying.

She had agreed to fake an engagement with one of the most powerful men in the country.

The contract outlined everything in strict detail:

She would act as Alexander Westwood's fiancée for six months.

She would attend public events with him, maintaining the image of a perfect couple.

She would move into his penthouse for credibility.

She could not, under any circumstances, fall in love with him.

That last rule nearly made her laugh.

As if that would ever be a problem.

She was certain Alexander Westwood wasn't capable of love.

—

Moving In

Emma's suitcase felt small in comparison to the massive penthouse she was about to enter.

She had expected luxury. But this?

It was another world.

The penthouse was a masterpiece of modern architecture, complete with floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek black marble floors, and an open-plan living area that screamed wealth and power.

She barely had time to take it all in before Alexander's voice cut through the silence.

"Follow me."

She turned to see him standing by the grand staircase, his expression unreadable as usual.

Wordlessly, she followed him up to the second floor, where he pushed open the door to a spacious bedroom.

"This will be your room," he said.

Emma stepped inside, stunned.

A king-sized bed, soft white sheets, and a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

It was more than anything she had ever dreamed of.

"This isn't real," she murmured under her breath.

"None of this is," Alexander responded smoothly. "Remember that."

Her stomach twisted.

Right.

This was all a transaction.

And she could never forget that.

—

The First Public Appearance

Two nights later, Emma found herself standing before a full-length mirror, her hands clammy as she adjusted the delicate evening gown draped over her frame.

The dress was a masterpiece—black silk, elegant yet understated, molding to her curves in a way that felt foreign.

Behind her, Alexander watched.

His gaze was sharp, assessing.

"Do you always look at people like they're business transactions?" she muttered, avoiding his eyes in the mirror.

To her surprise, his lips tugged slightly upward.

"Only when they are."

Emma's heart did a strange little flip, and she hated it.

She turned toward him, straightening her back. "Let's get this over with."

Alexander offered his arm, and for the first time, Emma realized—

This was really happening.

She was about to step into a world she had no place in.

And the man beside her?

He was a dangerous game she wasn't sure she knew how to play.