A Desperate Bargain

Evie sat in the luxurious Maybach, watching the city blurring past while her hands were clenched tightly in her lap. Martin Hayes, Alexander Grant's ever-efficient assistant, sat in the front seat, his attention divided between his tablet and the occasional glance at Evie in the rearview mirror.

Martin's expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or even surprise. He had worked for Alexander for years, and in that time, he'd seen his boss navigate countless business deals, negotiations, and power plays. But this… this was different. Alexander Grant didn't make impulsive decisions, and he certainly didn't involve himself in personal matters. Yet here he was, arranging a marriage—a fake marriage—to a woman he'd barely met. It didn't make sense, and Martin couldn't help but wonder what Alexander saw in her.

"You'll be moving into Mr. Grant's penthouse tonight," Martin said, his tone brisk but not unkind. He glanced at Evie in the mirror, noting the way her hands trembled in her lap. "Your belongings will be packed and delivered by this afternoon. You'll have your own suite, of course, but you'll be expected to attend public events with Mr. Grant as his wife. There will be rules, and you'll be expected to follow them without question."

Evie nodded numbly, her gaze fixed on the passing cityscape. She looked so out of place in the luxurious car, her simple black dress and worn heels a stark contrast to the opulence surrounding her. Martin couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. She was clearly overwhelmed, and who could blame her? This wasn't exactly a normal day for anyone.

"Do you have any questions?" Martin asked, his tone softening slightly. He wasn't usually one to offer reassurance, but something about Evie's quiet vulnerability made him want to put her at ease.

Evie shook her head, her throat too tight to speak. What could she possibly ask? What could he possibly say to make any of this feel real?

The car pulled up to a towering skyscraper, its glass façade gleaming in the afternoon sun. Evie's stomach churned as she stepped out of the car, her heels clicking against the polished pavement. She followed Martin into the building, her heart pounding with every step.

The penthouse was everything she expected and nothing like she imagined. It was vast and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city. The decor was sleek and modern, all sharp lines and muted tones, but it felt cold and impersonal, like a museum rather than a home.

"Your suite is this way," Martin said, leading her down a hallway to a set of double doors. He opened them to reveal a spacious bedroom, complete with a king-sized bed, a sitting area, and an en-suite bathroom. "Mr. Grant will expect you to be ready for dinner at seven. Dress appropriately."

Evie nodded, her hands trembling as she set her bag down on the bed. She waited until Martin left before sinking onto the edge of the mattress, her breath coming in shallow gasps. This was real. This was happening. She was living in Alexander Grant's penthouse, about to become his wife in name only.

Martin lingered in the hallway for a moment, his mind racing. He'd seen Alexander interact with countless people over the years, but he'd never seen him look at anyone the way he'd looked at Evie. There had been something in his gaze—something Martin couldn't quite place. It wasn't affection, exactly, but it wasn't indifference either. It was… curiosity. And that was enough to make Martin curious too.

He knocked lightly on the doorframe, startling Evie out of her thoughts. "Do you need anything?" he asked, his tone softer than usual. "Clothes, toiletries, anything like that?"

Evie shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

Martin hesitated, then stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "Look," he said, his voice low, "I know this is… a lot. And I know Mr. Grant can be… difficult. But if you need anything—anything at all—you can come to me. Okay?"

Evie looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Martin shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Let's just say I have a soft spot for people who get thrown into the deep end. And trust me, you're in the deep end."

Evie managed a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks," she said quietly.

Martin nodded, then turned to leave. But before he reached the door, he paused, glancing back at her. "One more thing," he said. "Don't take it personally. Mr. Grant… he's not the easiest person to get along with. But he's not a monster. Just… keep your head down, follow the rules, and you'll be fine."

Evie nodded, her hands trembling as she clasped them in her lap. "I'll try."

When the clock struck seven, Evie took a deep breath and stepped out of her suite, her heart pounding in her chest. She'd chosen the most formal dress she owned, a simple black number that she hoped would meet Alexander's standards. She smoothed her hands over the fabric, trying to steady her nerves as she made her way to the dining room.

Alexander was already seated at the table, his sharp features illuminated by the soft glow of the chandelier above. He looked up as she entered, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a chasm.

"Sit," Alexander said finally, his voice low and commanding.

Evie obeyed, her hands trembling as she folded them in her lap. The table was set with an elaborate spread, but she had no appetite. Her stomach churned with anxiety, her mind racing with questions she was too afraid to ask.

Alexander studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Do you understand the terms of our arrangement?" he asked, his tone calm but firm.

Evie nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

"Good," Alexander said, leaning back in his chair. "This is a business transaction, nothing more. You will play the role of my wife in public, and in return, I will take care of your financial troubles. But make no mistake—this is not a real marriage. There will be no emotional attachment, no unnecessary complications. Do you understand?"

Evie nodded again, her heart sinking. She'd known this was coming, but hearing it out loud made it feel all the more real. She was nothing more than a pawn in his game, a means to an end.

"There will be rules," Alexander continued, his gaze never leaving hers. "You will not interfere with my work. You will not ask personal questions. And you will not, under any circumstances, reveal the true nature of our arrangement to anyone. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Evie whispered, her voice barely audible.

Alexander nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Then we have an understanding."

The rest of the meal passed in silence, the clink of silverware the only sound in the room. Evie picked at her food, her stomach too knotted to eat. She could feel Alexander's gaze on her, cold and calculating, and it made her skin crawl.

When the meal was over, Alexander stood, his movements graceful and deliberate. "I have work to do," he said, his tone dismissive. "Martin will show you around the penthouse. Familiarize yourself with your new home."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Evie alone at the table.