The room beyond Julian's office wasn't an office at all. It was an observatory. A cavernous space with a ceiling of glass and walls of dark, polished stone, it felt less like a place of work and more like a fortress designed to survey a conquered kingdom. The city sprawled below, a dizzying tapestry of light and ambition, but it was the man standing before the glass who commanded the room.
Alexander Vance.
He stood with his back to me, his silhouette a sharp, dark cutout against the brilliant skyline. He was taller than I'd imagined, his shoulders broad beneath a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. There was an unnerving stillness to him, a coiled intensity that made the vast, airy room feel claustrophobic.
He didn't turn. The only sound was the whisper of the hidden door closing behind me, sealing me in.
My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs. Every instinct screamed to run, to flee this gilded cage and the predator within it. But my feet were rooted to the spot, my gaze fixed on him. This was the man who held the key to my family's salvation. This was the "Ice King."
"Miss Sterling."
His voice was nothing like I'd expected. It wasn't loud, but it was deep, resonant, and carried an absolute authority that vibrated through the space between us. It was the voice of a man who was used to being obeyed without question.
He turned slowly.
And the air vanished from my lungs.
The magazines didn't do him justice. They captured the cold perfection, the sharp cut of his jaw, the unsmiling mouth. But they couldn't capture the sheer, overwhelming force of his presence. His hair was dark, almost black, swept back from a brow that was both intelligent and severe. His eyes… God, his eyes. They were a shade of gunmetal grey, piercing and analytical, and they swept over me with a dispassionate efficiency that felt more invasive than a touch. He was devastatingly, brutally handsome, and the complete absence of warmth in his expression made him seem less like a man and more like a flawless, sentient weapon.
"I understand you are in a position to require a significant financial solution." He didn't move from the window, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, but I felt dissected, laid bare.
I forced my chin up, my pride rallying against the tide of my fear. "I am seeking a loan, Mr. Vance. Not… this."
A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something amusement? annoyance? crossed his features. "A loan implies the capacity for repayment. Julian has briefed me on your circumstances. You have no collateral. Your father's business is defunct. Your personal income is negligible. You are, by any financial metric, a high-risk, no-yield investment."
Each word was a precise, clinical blow. He wasn't trying to be cruel; he was simply stating facts. And that was somehow worse.
"My word is my collateral," I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "I would pay back every cent."
"Sentiment is not a currency I trade in," he replied, his tone flat. He took a single step forward, and the space between us seemed to shrink. "I am offering you a business proposition. A simple exchange. One year of your life, playing the part of my wife, in exchange for five million dollars, tax-free. At the end of the term, you walk away. No further obligations."
He made it sound so sterile. So easy. But the reality of it was a churning mess of fear and moral compromise.
"Playing the part," I repeated, my throat tight. "What does that entail, exactly?"
"Co-habitation at my primary residence. A limited number of public and private social engagements where we will present a unified, amicable front. You will be pleasant to my grandmother. You will not embarrass me or my company." His gaze hardened infinitesimally. "You will sign a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement. The true nature of our arrangement remains between us, Julian, and my grandmother."
"And what about… intimacy?" The question was a whisper, my cheeks burning with a mortifying heat.
His expression didn't change. "The contract stipulates a marriage in name only. There will be separate bedrooms. Our private lives will remain just that private. I have no interest in complicating a business arrangement with physical entanglements."
The relief that washed over me was so potent it left me dizzy. But it was quickly followed by a strange, unwelcome pang of something else insult? I shoved it down. It didn't matter. He found me financially negligible and physically uninteresting. It was better this way.
He walked to a monolithic stone desk, picked up a thick document, and held it out. "These are the terms. Read them. Julian will be your legal counsel for the purpose of this agreement."
I stared at the stack of paper. It was a physical manifestation of the cage. My fingers itched to take it, to clutch the solution to my chest, but I hesitated. "Why the rush? Julian said ten days."
His jaw tightened, the first sign of any real emotion. "The merger I am finalizing is contingent on my securing full, uncontested control of my company. The trust clause is the final hurdle. The board votes in eleven days. The marriage must be legally recorded before then." His eyes narrowed. "Your desperation and my deadline have converged, Miss Sterling. It is… efficient."
Efficient. He saw the most monumental decision of my life as a matter of efficiency.
My mind raced, a frantic tally of pros and cons. The pros were a single, blindingly bright column: Safety. Security. A future for my family. The cons were a dark, tangled forest: My freedom. My name. A year of my life living a lie with this terrifying, emotionless man.
I thought of my father's face when I told him the debts were gone. I thought of Chloe, able to finish her degree without the shadow of poverty hanging over her. I thought of my mother, and how she would have wanted me to save the home she loved.
The choice was no choice at all.
I crossed the room, my steps echoing on the stone floor. I stopped before him, close enough to smell the faint, clean scent of his cologne sandalwood and frost. I looked up into those granite eyes, summoning every ounce of courage I possessed.
"And if I say yes? When would I get the money?"
"The initial payment of one million dollars would be transferred to an account in your name upon the signing of the marriage certificate. The remaining four million will be deposited upon the successful annulment in one year's time."
One million. Immediately. It was more than enough. It was everything.
I held his gaze, the weight of the decision pressing down on me, threatening to crack my resolve. I saw no warmth there, no kindness, no hint of the man beneath the billionaire. I saw only a negotiator who had presented his final offer.
This was it. The point of no return.
I reached out, my hand shaking only slightly, and took the contract from him. Our fingers did not touch.
"I'll have my lawyer look it over," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.
A ghost of a smile, cold and satisfied, touched his lips. It didn't reach his eyes. "Wise. Julian will arrange for the documents to be sent to you. The civil ceremony is set for Friday. Do not be late."
Friday. Three days. The same deadline the loan sharks had given me.
He turned back to the window, dismissing me as if I were a junior associate who had delivered a satisfactory report. The audience was over.
Clutching the heavy stack of paper to my chest like a shield, I turned and walked back toward the hidden door, my legs moving on autopilot. As I stepped through it, back into the comparative warmth of Julian's office, the full magnitude of what I had just agreed to consider crashed over me.
I had just sold my future to a stranger. A man made of ice and stone.
And in three days, I would marry him.