A Proposal Bound by Secrets

Elena sat in her office at Asteria Designs, her fingers drumming against her mahogany desk as she stared at the contract in her hand. The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. She hadn't slept much the night before—her mind had been a whirlwind ever since she left Jace Donovan's penthouse.

The contract was a formal agreement—one that detailed not a business partnership, but a marriage.

A marriage.

Elena stared at the signature at the bottom of the page. Bold, confident strokes. Jace Donovan's handwriting.

She couldn't believe she was even considering this.

Marriage, to the man who once destroyed her family.

Her heart clenched. The memory of her father's company collapsing flashed through her mind—the news headlines, the shame in her father's eyes, her mother's silent tears. It all led back to one man: Jace Donovan.

But that same man now offered her a lifeline. A way to save Asteria Designs from its own collapse.

"Is your pride worth your company's death?" Jace had asked the night before, his voice like silk and steel. "Or are you willing to fight dirty—just like I am?"

Elena exhaled slowly, the paper trembling slightly in her grasp.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she said, slipping the contract back into her drawer.

Maya stepped in, holding a stack of sketches. Her brows were knit with concern. "Elena, are you okay? You look... pale."

"I'm fine," Elena replied quickly, forcing a smile.

Maya wasn't convinced but didn't press. "We've got a client presentation in an hour. The Chang wedding. I thought we could go over the final details."

"Right," Elena said, standing. "Let's go through it."

As they reviewed floral palettes and seating charts, Elena pushed the proposal to the back of her mind. But Jace's words echoed in her thoughts.

"This marriage... it's a transaction. You help me, and I'll save your company."

The memory of his gaze—dark, unreadable—made her skin prickle. There was more to this than he was letting on. But Elena knew better than anyone that sometimes, secrets were currency. And she had one too.

She never told anyone that she had once been engaged to Jace's brother.

Back then, she had found herself in love. Lucas Donovan was everything Jace wasn't—gentle, affectionate, charming. But their engagement fell apart when the Donovan family scandal erupted.

Lucas left the country. And Jace... Jace rose to power.

The irony wasn't lost on her now. She had once almost become a Donovan by love.

Now, she might become one by force.

That night, Elena stood in front of Jace's penthouse once more. She pressed the buzzer, her pulse hammering in her ears.

The door opened seconds later. Jace stood there, shirt sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned. He looked like sin and salvation wrapped in one.

"You came," he said, stepping aside.

"I haven't agreed to anything," Elena replied sharply.

"Of course not." He poured them both a glass of wine. "But you wouldn't be here if you hadn't considered it."

Elena took the glass but didn't drink. "Why me, Jace? Out of every woman in this city, why pick the one who hates you most?"

He sipped his wine, watching her over the rim. "Because I need someone I can trust to keep up appearances. Someone who won't fall in love and get messy. And because it benefits you too."

"You're dodging the question."

Jace set the glass down. "Fine. I'll give you the truth."

He walked over, closing the space between them. "This marriage isn't about love. It's about power. My board is threatening to pull back on an international deal unless I 'settle down.' They think I'm too volatile. Too reckless. They want a wife—an anchor."

"And you think I'll make the perfect anchor?"

"I think you're smart, capable, and beautiful enough to fool everyone. And you have as much to lose as I do."

Elena's throat tightened. "This is insane."

"Maybe. But it's also your best shot at saving Asteria."

Silence fell between them. The air crackled with tension.

Then Elena said the one thing she never thought she would:

"Fine. I'll do it."

Jace's lips twitched. "Good. We'll be married by next month."

"I want terms," she said quickly. This marriage lasts one year. You save my company, I play the perfect wife. After that, we go our separate ways. Clean slate."

"Done."

"And no touching."

He raised a brow. "Define touching."

"You know exactly what I mean."

He smirked. "You'll find I don't always follow the rules, Elena."

Her jaw clenched. "Then I guess you'll have to learn."

Jace extended his hand. "To our future, Mrs. Donovan."

Elena shook it, her grip firm despite the tremble in her heart.

As their hands met, a shiver ran down her spine.

Because this wasn't just a deal.

It was a beginning.

And beginnings had a way of spiraling into something far more dangerous.

Elena dropped her bag on the bed and sat down, letting out a long breath. Her fingers dug into the soft duvet as if it could anchor her in this new reality. This room was beautiful—immaculate even—but it wasn't home. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

A gentle knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She stiffened.

"Come in," she called cautiously.

Aiden stepped inside, no longer in his blazer. He looked different—less like the ruthless CEO and more like a man at the end of a long, exhausting day.

"I brought you this," he said, holding out a slim black folder.

Elena took it hesitantly, flipping it open to see another document.

"It's an addendum to the marriage contract," he explained, his voice surprisingly calm. "It outlines boundaries. Expectations. You'll have your freedom—under certain terms."

She looked up sharply. "You're giving me rules?"

"Protections," he corrected. "For both of us."

Her brow furrowed. "Like what?"

"No physical contact unless mutually agreed," he said. We'll maintain public appearances for the sake of the shareholders. Outside of that, we stay out of each other's way."

Her chest ached with a mix of relief and something she couldn't name. "So... a business arrangement."

"That's what this is, isn't it?" he replied, folding his arms.

She bit her lip and glanced back at the document. "You don't want me in your life, do you?"

Aiden paused. For a moment, he looked unsure of what to say. But then the mask returned, cool and composed. "It's not about wanting. It's about necessity."

Elena stood and faced him. "Then tell me one thing. Why me? Why did your mother choose me of all people? We don't know each other. I'm nobody."

Aiden's gaze darkened. He turned away, as if trying to decide whether to answer. "Because of your father."

Her heart skipped. "What about him?"

Elena barely slept that night. Her body lay still, but her mind was a storm of questions.

Why had Aiden been so cold yet strangely protective?

What secrets did he still keep hidden?

Why had she, of all people, been pulled into the dangerous orbit of the Cross family?

The mansion was quiet in the early morning hours, so quiet it felt like a tomb. Elena pushed off the duvet and stepped barefoot onto the cold marble floor. She walked down the hallway, not knowing where she was going—only that she needed fresh air, clarity.

She found herself in the conservatory.

A beautiful glass room at the side of the house, where sunlight streamed in through large panes, bathing the interior with golden warmth. Dozens of flowers bloomed in the planters—orchids, roses, lilies—each one cultivated with meticulous care.

It felt alive, in contrast to the rest of the house that seemed designed to keep people out.

"Elena."

She spun around, startled.

Aiden stood behind her, wearing a simple white shirt and dark slacks, a coffee mug in his hand.

"I didn't think anyone else would be awake," she said quickly, her hand clutching her robe tighter.

"I don't sleep much."

There was a beat of silence before she nodded toward the garden. "It's beautiful. Did your mother design it?"

"No," Aiden said quietly. My father did. Before he died."

Elena looked at him. "You never talk about him."

"He's not someone worth remembering," Aiden replied. His voice was even, but his eyes betrayed something deeper—hurt? Resentment?

She didn't push further. Instead, she stepped toward one of the orchids and gently touched its delicate petal.

"You know," she murmured, "for two people who are married, we know almost nothing about each other."

Aiden leaned against a pillar. "That's the point of our agreement, isn't it?"

"Is it?" she countered, turning to him. "Because I keep wondering how long we can live under the same roof pretending not to exist."

His eyes locked onto hers. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying," she said slowly, "maybe pretending isn't the way to survive this."

Aiden studied her face, searching for something. "Are you suggesting we try to be… friends?"

Elena gave a small shrug. "Strangers make worse roommates."

Aiden was quiet for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, he smiled. Just barely, but it softened his sharp features in a way she hadn't seen before.

"Friends, huh?" he echoed. "You really think that's possible, after the way we started?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I'd rather try something real than live in cold silence."

Aiden sipped his coffee and nodded once. "Alright. Friends. For now."

It was a small moment. But for Elena, it felt like the first step toward reclaiming a little control over her own life.

Even if they were bound by secrets, maybe—just maybe—they could still find something real amid the lies.

He exhaled slowly, still facing the window. "Your father saved my mother's life once. In a way none of us could ever repay. This marriage... it was her way of honoring that debt. She thinks it'll protect you."

Elena's breath caught in her throat. Her father—the man she lost years ago. She had no idea he'd had any connection to the Cross family. All these years, she thought he died poor and forgotten.

"She never told me that," she whispered.

"She doesn't tell anyone more than she has to," Aiden muttered. "You'll learn that soon enough."

The air between them thickened with unsaid words. Regret. Confusion. Pain.

Finally, Elena lowered the folder to her side. "Fine. I'll sign it. But I'm not going to pretend to be someone I'm not, Aiden."

He gave her a long, unreadable look. "Good. Because I don't want someone pretending."

With that, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Elena stood there for a long time, the hum of the city outside barely reaching her ears. She thought of her father. Of the promise he unknowingly left behind. And the man she'd just been forced to marry.

A man hiding more than he showed.

A man who, like her, was bound by secrets.

She moved to the window, resting her hand on the glass.

What have I gotten myself into?