Page 4 of The Billionaire’s Contract Bride

She needed to reach Bellamy’s before her shift started. One more late arrival and she’d lose her only income.

She took a deep breath and stepped out into the downpour.

“Ms. Vale.”

Aria froze. She turned around slowly.

The stranger stood under the dry shelter of the hospital awning, immaculate and untouched by the storm, while rain plastered her hair to her face and soaked her thin blouse.

“How do you know my name?” She demanded.

He tilted his head toward the visitor badge still clipped to her chest.

“Right.” She ripped it off and tossed it aside, watching it skitter across the wet pavement. “Goodbye.”

“You need money.”

She let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Brilliant observation.”

“And I need a wife.” He continued as though she had never spoken.

Aria stared at him, wiping rain from her eyes. “You should work on your proposal. Most women prefer flowers first.”

A flicker of genuine amusement crossed his face before vanishing behind his cold mask. “This wouldn’t be a conventional marriage.”

He reached inside his tailored jacket and held out a heavy black business card stamped in gold leaf.

DAMIEN BLACKTHORNE

CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER, BLACKTHORNE GLOBAL

Aria recognized the name instantly. Everyone did. Blackthorne Global owned luxury hotels, private medical networks, shipping lines, and enough Manhattan commercial real estate to give Damien Blackthorne a view of the entire city from whichever tower he chose to stand in.

The man before her wasn’t merely wealthy. He was the kind of powerful that altered laws, buried scandals, and erased problems with a phone call.

She looked from the card back to his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

“A contract,” he said, his voice easily cutting through the sound of the rain. “One year. Public appearances when required. Separate quarters. Complete confidentiality.”

“And after the year is up?” Her response could have been lost beneath the downpour it was so soft, but Damien heard it.

“We divorce, and our lives separate permanently.”

Her pulse stumbled. “And what do I get?”

Damien’s gaze held hers as if he had already calculated the exact threshold of her desperation.

“Your mother’s treatment will be paid in full by top specialists. Your debts cleared today. And upon completion of the contract, you will receive one million dollars.”

Aria forgot the freezing rain. Forgot the towering hospital behind her. Forgot to breathe.

“There are terms,” Damien added.

“There always are.” For someone still not breathing, her voice came out incredibly strong.

He took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them until she caught the subtle scent of expensive cedar and rain on his jacket.

“You will move into my residence immediately. You will follow my directives in public. You will never speak of this arrangement.” His eyes dipped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. “And there is one non-negotiable rule.”