Chapter 3

For a moment, Isla was certain she had misheard him.

For a long moment, all she could do was replay the last moments in her head over and over again to be sure she had heard what she thought she had heard.

The words marry me echoed in her head, foreign and impossible.

How did they go from her walking into his office and giving him her boutique on a damn platter, to him asking her to. marry him?

Meanwhile her deal was really a fucking platter of gold!

Nah....she had to be dreaming.

But she wasn't because she saw the way Adrian Sinclair watched her, his ice-blue eyes sharp, assessing her like he had just cornered her into a game she didn't even know she was playing.

A slow chill crawled up her spine.

She straightened, forcing out a laugh, though her heart slammed against her ribs. "I think I misheard you, Mr. Sinclair."

Hopefully she had.

Adrian leaned back against his desk, perfectly composed. Predatory. Controlled. "You heard me correctly."

"You're insane." And that was even an understatement.

He smirked. "No, I'm practical."

"Practical? You call what you just said-no, threw at me, practical?" Isla gritted her teeth. "You want to marry me?" She gestured between them. "A complete stranger?"

"I don't believe in romance, Miss Monroe," he said smoothly. "I need a wife for a business arrangement. You need money."

That stopped her in hertracks.

What business arrangement will make the one and only Adrian, desperately want a wife?

And why was he choosing her all of a sudden, among all the women in the world who would be more than willing to take part in his little game.

Her mind worked like a clock as she tried to analyse her situation.

Isla felt her nails dig into her palm. "So I'd be what? Your little contract bride? A convenient pawn in whatever twisted game you're playing?"

She had heard this before, well read about it.

A man, or woman, getting married for convience, and agreeing to part ways when the contract was up.

But what counted the most, was the terms that came to play.

His smirk deepened. "You catch on quickly. I didn't expect that."

Isla exhaled sharply, stepping back like he'd physically struck her. This man was unhinged.

And everything in her was screaming for her not to play a part in his game.

"I don't need your money that badly." She turned for the door. "I'll find another way."

There was no other way.

As if he knew what she was thinking, Adrian spoke. "You won't."

His voice was calm, assured, like he knew her every move before she even made it.

No wonder they referred to him as the devil.

Her fingers curled around the doorknob. "Watch me."

Isla the doorknob, pulling open the door, when his voice again. 

"Your debt is being bought by Sinclair Enterprises as we speak."

The words froze her in place.

Her hand dropped from the door almost instantly like it burned.

Slowly, she turned to face him. She could hear her heart beat in her damn chest. "What?"

Adrian adjusted his cufflinks, his expression unreadable. "I contacted your bank the moment you walked into my office. I now own your debt."

Isla's stomach twisted violently. "You can't do that."

How could he even_ How was it possible that he could own her debt_ How did he_

"I just did."

Her breath hitched, panic clawing at her throat. No. No, no, no.

She had spent the past twenty-four hours drowning in desperation, scrambling for a way out, and now, in less than five minutes, Adrian Sinclair had tied the noose even tighter.

She had come here seeking for a solution, not to get trapped and entwinned in her problems. And it seemed she may have just added a bigger problem, in form of the man standing before her.

Maybe she could play this.

She lifted her chin. "Fine. If you own my debt, then let's talk business. How much will it take to clear it? Name your price."

She was spewing rubbish, but she had to find a way out of this, somehow.

His eyes gleamed with something dark. "I just did."

Her pulse pounded. "You—"

"You need $350,000 to save your boutique." He took slow, deliberate steps toward her, closing the distance until he was towering over her, his scent, an expensive cologne, and danger, thick in the air between them.

Isla didn't take a step back, even if that was the rational thing to do. Instead, she stood there, like a force was keeping her rooted to the spot.

And heaven help her, but she knew what the force was, or at least, it's origin.

"I need a wife," he continued. "One year. A simple contract. You'll have access to more money than you'll ever need, and when it's over, you walk away, debt-free."

His voice was smooth, logical, merciless.

He said it like it was the most simple thing in the world.

He was proposing her tying down her whole life to him for a whole year.

A year wasn't that long. It was definitely going to pass before she knew it.

But a year with Adrian, she wasnn;t so sure.

"Or," he murmured, tilting his head, "you refuse and lose everything in a matter of days."

Heat rose in Isla's cheeks, not from attraction, but from pure, unfiltered rage.

Now he was threatening her?

Why hadn't she realized that she was walking into a damn firing squad, and left when she had had the chance to?

"Let me get this straight," she bit out. "You're blackmailing me into marriage?"

He smirked. "I'm giving you a choice."

A choice?

This wasn't a choice. This was a loaded gun to her head.

She inhaled shakily, her hands trembling. "Why me?"

His eyes darkened. "Because you're desperate enough to consider it."

The brutal honesty knocked the air from her lungs.

And the worst part? He was right.

She was desperate. She had spent the last twenty-four hours trying to come up with a miracle, and now, one was standing right in front of her, dressed in a three-piece suit and pure arrogance.

One year.

One year of marriage to Adrian Sinclair in exchange for saving her mother's dream.

One year of playing his wife, his property, his puppet.

Isla's hands curled into fists. There had to be another way.

But with only seven days left before she lost everything, she wasn't sure there was.

Adrian's gaze softened, just for a fraction of a second. "Say yes, and you get your freedom back after one year. Say no, and you lose everything. Either way, I win."

Her nails bit into her skin.

She hated him.

Hated that he was so calm, so composed, while she was unraveling.

Hated that despite the fury burning inside her, a small, traitorous part of her was considering it.

Finally, she forced herself to meet his gaze, unflinching.

"What's in the contract?"

A spark of victory flickered in his eyes.

"I knew you were smart."

He reached for a drawer, pulled out a sleek black folder, and placed it in her hands.

She hesitated before flipping it open, her heart pounding violently as her eyes scanned the terms.

Marriage duration: One year.

Public appearances required.

No romantic expectations.

Divorce settlement included.

And then she saw it—

Final clause: Failure to comply will result in immediate financial consequences.

Her blood ran cold.

It wasn't just a contract.

It was a cage.

She looked up, her throat dry. "What if I say no?"

Adrian tucked his hands in his pockets. "Then I will collect on your debt… in full."

A slow, wicked smirk curled his lips.

"I wonder how bankruptcy suits you, Miss Monroe?"

Adrian...

Adrian Sinclair was really the devil himslef.