Ava's POV
I stared at the text message until the letters became less clearer.
'We need to talk, now. - DH'
"Ava." Jamie was still holding her phone like it might explode.
"You need to tell me what's going on, right now."
How could I? I was just as lost as she was.
"I don't know."
My voice came out flat. "I swear to God, I don't know."
"You don't know how you ended up in a hotel with a billionaire on Christmas Eve?"
"I mean, I know how. I just didn't know who he was."
I grabbed my phone and typed back with shaking fingers.
How did you get my number?
The response came immediately.
Address, I'm sending a car.Not asking, telling.
"Oh, that's cute."
I showed Jamie the message.
"He thinks he can just summon me like I'm his employee."
"Ava, maybe you should go, maybe he can fix this."
"Fix what? There's nothing to fix. We didn't do anything."
"Yeah, but nobody's going to believe that." She turned her phone to show me again.
The article had updated. Now there were more photos, me leaving the hotel this morning, hair a mess, wearing yesterday's clothes.
The caption read: Mystery woman leaves CEO's hotel suite Christmas morning, walk of shame or something more?
"I'm going to be sick."
"Go talk to him, please, before this gets worse."Jamie said, her expression fading into concern.
My phone rang, not a text this time, it was a call. I answered without thinking."Miss Cole."
A woman's voice, crisp and professional answered on the other end. "I'm calling on behalf of Mr. Hawthorne. A car will arrive at your location in five minutes, please be ready."
"Wait, I didn't agree….."
"Five minutes, Miss Cole."
She hung up.
"Oh, I hate him already." I ripped off my apron, "I hate him so much."
Jamie grabbed my arm. "Be careful, okay? These people aren't like us, they play by different rules."
"Yeah, well, I'm not playing anything." I shoved my phone in my pocket. "I'm going to tell Mr. Billionaire exactly where he can shove his car and his attitude."
The car was a black SUV with tinted windows. The driver opened the door without speaking. I climbed in because what else was I going to do? Run? Hide? Pretend this wasn't happening?
The interior smelled like new leather. A bottle of water sat in the cup holder with a note. 'Drink this.'
"Oh, he's hilarious." I crumpled the note and drank the water anyway because my head was still pounding.
We drove through the city, away from my neighborhood with its corner stores and food trucks, into the part of town where buildings got taller and shinier and people wore suits that cost more than my entire wardrobe.
The car pulled up to a high-rise that was all glass and steel and intimidation.The driver opened my door.
"Top floor."
I scoffed. "Wouldn't want to be accessible to us common folk."
The lobby was massive, marble floors. Modern art that looked like someone threw paint at a canvas and called it genius.
A security guard stepped forward."Miss Cole?"
"That's me, I'm here for my public execution."
He didn't smile, just gestured to a private elevator. "Mr. Hawthorne is expecting you."
The elevator ride felt like it took an hour. I watched the numbers climb, my reflection staring back at me from the polished doors. I looked terrible, my hair was still a mess. Signs of yesterday's make up was still there, i hadn't washed them off properly since i rushed to work today, the opposite of put-together.
The doors opened directly into an office that took up the entire floor.
Damian stood by the windows, hands in his pockets, staring out at the city. He'd changed since this morning. Different suit, hair still perfect. He was looking fresh like last night never happened.
"Miss Cole."
He didn't turn around. "Thank you for coming."
"Did I have a choice?" I stepped out of the elevator. "Your assistant was very insistent. Borderline threatening, actually."
"She's efficient."
"She's terrifying." I corrected.
He turned then, his eyes found mine and something in my stomach flipped. He looked different in daylight. Harder and more dangerous. The vulnerability from last night was gone, replaced by something cold and controlled.
"We have a problem," he said.
"You think?" I pulled out my phone and held up the article. "Mystery mistress. Home-wrecking event planner. My personal favorite is 'gold-digging nobody' that alone warms the heart."
"I didn't leak those photos."
"Oh, well that makes it so much better."
"Someone followed us, domeone with connections to my competitors." He walked toward his desk. "This wasn't random."
"Wait." I followed him.
"You're saying someone deliberately set this up? That we were targeted?"
"Yes."
"Why? I'm nobody. I arrange flowers for a living, what could anyone possibly gain from destroying my reputation?"
"It's not about you."
Of course it wasn't about me. He sat down, motioned to the chair across from him.
"It's about damaging mine."
"Oh, how nice. I'm just collateral damage in your corporate drama."
I didn't sit.
"This is my life, Damian, my job, my name, everything."
"I'm aware."
"Are you? Doesn't seem like it, because you seem pretty calm for someone whose face is all over the internet next to the word scandal."
"I've dealt with worse."
"Good for you. I haven't." My voice cracked. I hated that it cracked. "I have people calling me, strangers, reporters probably. My ex is probably loving this, my boss is going to see this. I mean that's if she hasn't already. Everyone I know is going to think I'm exactly what those articles say I am."
"Then we fix it."
"How? How do we possibly fix this?"He leaned back in his chair, staring at me from head to toe. "We get married."
Oh, that was unexpected.
I laughed, actually laughed. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Married, A temporary contract, long enough to change the narrative and satisfy my board."
"You've lost your mind."
"My company is in the middle of a merger worth billions. My reputation matters, your reputation matters now too, whether you like it or not." His voice was calm, too calm gor my likening "This is the cleanest solution."
"Cleanest?" I stepped closer to his desk. "You want me to marry you? A complete stranger? Because of some photos?"
"Yes.""That's insane."
"That's business."
"No." I shook my head. "Absolutely not. Find another solution, pay people off, I don't know. But I'm not marrying you."
"What's your alternative?" He stood, walked around the desk. "Go back to your life and hope this blows over? It won't. These people will dig into everything, your past, your family, your ex-fiancé. They'll find every mistake you've ever made and put it online for everyone to judge."
"And marrying you will stop that?"
"It will control it." He stopped in front of me. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"My lawyers will handle the media, your name gets protected, you get a substantial payment for your time and when the merger is complete, we divorce quietly and go our separate ways."
"How long?" the words flew out from my mouth.
"One year, maybe less."
"One year of pretending to be your wife."
"Yes."
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something, to tell him to take his ridiculous plan and shove it somewhere uncomfortable.
But he was right. Those articles weren't going away and I didn't have lawyers or money or any way to fight back.
"What's the catch?" I asked. "Because there's always a catch."
"You move into my house. We appear together in public when necessary, you play the part convincingly." His voice dropped lower. "And you don't ask questions about my business."
"Your shady business, you mean."
"My private business."
"Right, because normal CEOs definitely have people following them and leaking photos to destroy their reputations." I crossed my arms.
"What are you really involved in, Damian?"
"Nothing that concerns you."
"If I'm going to be your fake wife, it absolutely concerns me."
He stepped closer, I could smell his cologne, see the gold flecks in his gray eyes.
"You'll sign a non-disclosure agreement. Everything you see, everything you hear in my house stays private, break that agreement and the consequences will be severe."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm being clear about expectations."
We stared at each other for a while, the air between us felt heavy.
"I need time to think," I said.
"You have until end of business today."
"That's four hours!" I almost yelled.
"Yes."
"You're unbelievable."
"I'm practical." He reached into his desk and pulled out a folder. "Contract details, salary, terms. Read it and decide."
I took the folder. It was thick and heavy.
"And if I say no?"
"Then good luck with the media circus."
He sat back down, already turning to his computer like I'd been dismissed.
"The car will take you wherever you need to go."
"That's it? No please? No trying to convince me?"
He looked up. "I don't beg, Miss Cole. I make offers, you either accept them or you don't."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of an asshole?"
His mouth curved. Almost a smile.
"Frequently."
I turned toward the elevator, clutching the folder. My hands were shaking again from anger or fear or the complete insanity of what he was asking, I didn't know.
"Ava."
I stopped and looked back.
"For what it's worth," he said, his voice quieter now. "I am sorry you got dragged into this."
"Yeah, well." I pressed the elevator button. "Sorry doesn't really help, does it?"
The doors opened. I stepped inside, the last thing I saw before they closed was Damian watching me, his expression unreadable, his gray eyes following me like he could see right through every wall I'd ever built.My phone buzzed as the elevator descended.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
'Save this, it's my personal contact.'