Chapter 4: A Deal with the Devil

Samantha had met many men in her life. Arrogant businessmen, reckless racers, even outright criminals. But Maxwell Carter? He was in a category of his own—a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth, yet somehow exuding a level of control that set her teeth on edge.

The moment she stepped into the lavish hotel lounge, she knew she was walking straight into a trap. Her father sat stiffly at the far end of the room, next to Maxwell's parents. And there he was—Maxwell Carter—leaning back in his chair like he owned the damn place, an amused smirk on his annoyingly perfect face.

"You're late," he said, his smooth voice cutting through the tense silence.

Samantha folded her arms. "And you're smug. Guess we both have our flaws."

Her father shot her a warning look, but she didn't care. This entire meeting was a sham. A forceful arrangement to push her into something she had no intention of accepting.

Maxwell didn't seem fazed by her hostility. If anything, his smirk widened. "Well, now that you're here, let's get this over with. I assume you've been informed of our arrangement?"

"Arrangement?" Samantha let out a sharp laugh. "You mean the prison sentence my father is trying to hand me? Yeah, I've heard."

Maxwell exhaled, clearly bored. "I don't have time for childish tantrums. We both have things to gain from this. Your father keeps his reputation, my family solidifies a powerful alliance, and you—" he tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable, "—well, you get to play princess for the rest of your life."

Samantha clenched her fists. "And if I say no?"

Her father finally spoke. "Then you lose everything, Samantha."

She snapped her head toward him. "Everything?"

Her father's face was cold, unyielding. "The money, the inheritance, the house. You'll have nothing but your name, and even that will be worthless without our family's backing."

She swallowed hard. It wasn't the money she cared about. It was the freedom. She had always lived her life on her own terms, but without financial support, her racing career would be dead before it even took off.

Maxwell leaned forward, tapping a finger against the glass table. "I'll give you an alternative," he said, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Marry me, pretend to be my dutiful fiancée in public, and in return, I'll let you have your fun."

Samantha narrowed her eyes. "My fun?"

"I know about your street racing," Maxwell said casually. "Unlike your father, I don't particularly care if you want to risk your life speeding through the city at night. As long as it doesn't interfere with our public image, you can do whatever you want behind closed doors."

Samantha blinked. "You're okay with it?"

Maxwell shrugged. "I find it amusing. Besides, I believe in making compromises. You'll get your freedom, and I'll get mine."

She studied him carefully. There had to be a catch. A man like Maxwell Carter didn't make deals without expecting something in return. "And what exactly do you get out of this?"

Maxwell smirked. "The benefit of having a wife who knows how to keep things interesting."

Samantha scowled. "I'm not some trophy for you to show off."

"I don't need a trophy," he said, his voice lower, more serious. "I need a partner. Someone who can handle the spotlight and won't crack under pressure. I think you fit that description."

The room fell silent. Samantha's father looked pleased, Maxwell's parents exchanged knowing glances, and Maxwell himself… he watched her, waiting for her reaction.

Samantha felt cornered, trapped in a game where all the rules had been decided without her. But if Maxwell was giving her an opening, she'd take it.

She leaned back in her chair, mimicking his relaxed posture. "Fine," she said. "I'll play your little game."

Maxwell's eyes flickered with amusement. "Then we have a deal."

Samantha forced a smirk. "Oh, we have a deal, alright. But don't think for a second that I'm going to make this easy for you."

Maxwell chuckled, lifting his glass in a silent toast. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

But as Samantha reached for the contract in front of her, signing away what little freedom she had left, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just made a deal with the devil himself.

And she had no idea what it would cost her.