People said betrayal burned.
They were wrong.
It didn't burn ... it froze.
It crawled under the skin and turned every heartbeat into something mechanical.
That's what I felt when I saw Vanessa's mouth on my business partner's.
Not rage.
Not heartbreak.
Just... stillness.
The orchestra stopped. Someone gasped. Reporters whispered like vultures scenting blood.
And me?
I just stood there, tuxedo perfect, expression unreadable, watching the end of something that had never really meant anything.
Vanessa stumbled after me when I walked out of the ballroom, heels clacking against marble.
"Adrian, please-it's not what it looked like!"
I turned to her, voice calm, detached.
"Don't insult my intelligence."
Her eyes filled, like that would help. I'd seen better performances from interns trying to talk their way out of termination.
I left her standing there in her designer gown, surrounded by murmuring guests and shattered glass.
Control.
Always control.
By the time I reached my office the private one connected to the venue my assistant was already pacing outside, pale and nervous.
"Sir, the press is-"
"I'll handle it," I said, pushing past him.
Inside, I poured myself a drink. The whiskey was older than most people I knew. I didn't sip it; I let it burn straight down.
Scandal was poison in my world. And poison spreads fast.
My reflection in the window looked exactly how I preferred it: untouchable.
"Sir?" My assistant's voice wavered. "There's... something else."
I didn't turn. "Make it quick."
"There's another wedding across the hall. The bride was abandoned at the altar. Reporters are circling both events they think it's connected somehow."
That got my attention. I turned, finally. "A bride?"
"Yes, sir. The groom never showed. She's still there."
"Who"
"Miss Talia Monroe"
For a moment, silence. Then I said evenly, "Bring her to me."
He blinked. "Sir?"
I met his eyes. "You heard me."
"Call Ethan to run a background check on her, while you get her here."
He nodded quickly and left.
When the door closed, I loosened my cufflinks, the weight of the room pressing in.
This wasn't emotion. It was strategy.
Every disaster was a move waiting to be made and I always made mine first.
Ten minutes later, she walked in.
Talia Monroe.
She looked like chaos wearing lace. Wet hair clinging to her face, eyes rimmed red but steady, like she'd already been through hell and decided to set up camp there.
Beautiful, but not delicate.
Broken, but not beaten.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked, arms crossed, chin high.
I admired that the defiance. Most people folded when they stood in front of me. She didn't.
"Sit," I said.
Her brows shot up. "Excuse me?"
"I said, sit."
She hesitated, then obeyed. Not because she wanted to because something in my voice didn't invite refusal.
I poured her a drink, slid it across the table. She ignored it.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Straight to the point. Good.
"An arrangement."
She frowned. "An arrangement?"
"You're humiliated," I said simply. "So am I. You need to fix your reputation. I need to control the story. We can help each other."
Her lips parted in disbelief. "Help each other how?"
"Marry me."
The look she gave me was worth more than every stock I owned shock, anger, confusion, pride.
"I'm sorry-what?"
I didn't repeat myself. I didn't need to.
"A temporary contract," I continued. "Six months. You save face. I protect my company. Everyone wins."
She laughed, bitter and shaky. "You're insane."
"Possibly." I leaned back. "But I'm also right. You came here."
Her silence told me I'd hit the nerve I was aiming for.
"I don't even know you," she said finally.
"I don't need you to know me." I slid the document toward her. "You're a problem. I solve problems."
She stared down at the paper like it might bite. "You think I'll just marry a stranger because it's convenient?"
I held her gaze. "No. You'll do it because you hate losing more than you hate me."
Her breath caught. There it was the flicker of recognition. The truth stings, but it always lands.
"Six months," I said quietly. "No strings. No emotions. Just headlines."
She hesitated. Then, to my faint surprise, she picked up the pen.
"Fine."
I nodded once. Control restored. Order reclaimed.
"My lawyer will contact yours."
She tried to sound brave. "I'll have mine review it."
"Good." I allowed a small, cold smile. "I don't like naïve people."
She looked at me for a moment like she was seeing through me, like she knew I didn't do this out of pity or impulse.
She was right.
This wasn't about pity. Or attraction.
It was about power.
It always is.
And as she signed her name, I knew one thing for certain-
Talia Monroe didn't just step into my world.
She'd just been trapped in it.
I was certain.
