Chapter 2: The term of the deal

Isla gripped the armrests of the chair, her nails digging into the leather as Alessandro's proposition hung in the air like a storm cloud.

One year. Five million pounds. His wife.

And his bed.

Her body betrayed her with a shiver, but she ignored it, forcing herself to focus on the absurdity of the situation. "You're serious about this?"

Alessandro leaned back, his gaze sharp, calculating. "I don't waste time on things I'm not serious about."

Of course, he didn't. He was ruthless in business, relentless in his pursuit of success. But this? This was madness.

She exhaled slowly. "I need to understand this properly. You want me to marry you for a year, act like the perfect wife in public, and in exchange, I get five million pounds?"

"Yes."

"And the… physical part?" She hated how her voice faltered.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as if he enjoyed her discomfort. "Do you expect people to believe we're married if we sleep in separate rooms?"

Her cheeks burned. "I expect that we're both adults who can set boundaries."

"Boundaries," he repeated, as if the word amused him. "Fine. You won't be forced into my bed, Isla. But let's be clear—if you do end up there, it won't be because of an obligation. It will be because you want to."

Her breath caught. His confidence was infuriating, and worse—he was right. Alessandro Romano was the kind of man women threw themselves at. Dark-haired, strikingly handsome, powerful. And he knew exactly what he was doing.

"I can resist you just fine," she said, lifting her chin.

His smirk deepened. "We'll see."

She rolled her eyes, pushing the tension aside. "Alright, let's talk logistics. What happens after a year?"

"We divorce." His tone was businesslike, as if discussing a corporate merger. "You leave with the money, and we never have to speak again."

It should have reassured her, but an odd pang settled in her chest. She ignored it.

"And if I refuse?"

He tapped his fingers against the desk, watching her like a predator studying prey. "Then I find someone else. But that wouldn't be ideal, would it? For you, or for me."

There was something unspoken in his words, something that made her stomach twist. "You think I need your money that badly?"

"I think," he said smoothly, "that you wouldn't still be sitting here if the answer was no."

Damn him. He was right.

Her mother was drowning in medical bills, and Isla's savings were barely enough to keep them afloat. Five million pounds wasn't just life-changing—it was freedom.

But selling her soul to Alessandro Romano for a year?

She exhaled sharply. "I want conditions."

His brows lifted. "Such as?"

"No interference in my personal life. If I want to visit my mother, I do it. No questions asked."

"Fine."

"No controlling what I wear, say, or do outside of our 'public image.'"

He smirked. "You'll be my wife, Carter. That comes with expectations."

"Within reason," she pressed. "I won't be your puppet."

His lips twitched, but he nodded. "Agreed."

"And the bedroom," she added, forcing herself to look him in the eye. "No expectations. No obligations."

Alessandro's gaze darkened, but after a beat, he inclined his head. "As you wish."

A tense silence settled between them. Isla's heart pounded.

One year.

One contract.

One dangerously magnetic man.

"I want everything in writing," she said finally.

"You'll have the contract by morning."

She swallowed hard. "Then I'll think about it."

Alessandro stood, walking around the desk until he was in front of her. He reached out, tilting her chin up with two fingers.

"You're already mine, Isla," he murmured. "You just haven't admitted it yet."

Her breath hitched.

And she realized, with terrifying certainty—

She was already falling into his trap.