The heavy, carved wood of the door to the private dining room at Le Ciel felt cool beneath Audrey's trembling fingers.
She took a deep, steadying breath, the air tasting of expensive perfume .She pushed the door open.
He was standing with his back to her, looking out the panoramic window at the glittering tapestry of the New York skyline. He was tall, his shoulders broad beneath a perfectly tailored dark suit. He held a glass of what looked like whiskey, swirling the amber liquid.
He turned as the door clicked shut, and the breath caught in Audrey's throat.
The photo her mother had sent didn't do him justice. He was brutally handsome, with a sharp jawline, dark hair, and eyes the color of a stormy sea. There was an air of predatory stillness about him, a coiled energy that the opulent room seemed too small to contain.
His gaze swept over her, analytical and intense. It wasn't the leering look she was used to from men in this world, nor was it the dismissive glance. It was something else. An assessment.
Before he could speak, Audrey stepped forward steadily, taking the initiative to break the silence.Her tone was calm, poised, and unwavering, laced with quiet determination.
"Mr. Julian Sinclair,"she said firmly, her gaze locked unflinchingly on his stormy eyes. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me tonight. I’m Audrey Beaumont."
One of his dark brows lifted slightly, a faint, knowing ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His voice rumbled out in a low, velvety baritone that sent an unexpected, faint shiver down her spine. "Miss Beaumont. I’ve heard the name."
The silence stretched. He didn't sit. He just watched her, his blue eyes unreadable. The usual script for these encounters involved polite, meaningless small talk. Inquiries about work, family, the weather.
Audrey had no time for scripts.
She looked directly at him, meeting his piercing gaze without flinching.
"Mr. Sinclair," she began, her hands clasped in her lap to hide their shaking. "I know this is our first meeting, and my proposal will sound... unconventional."
One of his dark eyebrows lifted slightly. A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "I'm listening."
The encouragement, however small, was all she needed.
"I need a husband," she said, the words stark and clinical in the quiet room. "The arrangement would be for one year. In return for the use of your name, I will act as a dutiful wife in any public or private capacity you require to satisfy your family. After one year, we file for a quiet divorce. No attachments, no complications."
The smile vanished from his face. He set his glass down on the windowsill, the clink of glass on marble unnervingly loud. He moved from the window to the table, pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the polished wood, his gaze never leaving hers.
He was studying her, trying to see the cracks in her composure. She felt like a specimen under a microscope.
"You're serious," he stated. It wasn't a question.
"Completely."
He was silent for a long time, the only sound the distant hum of the city below. The pause was agonizing. She had laid her last, desperate card on the table, and she half-expected him to laugh in her face, to call her insane and walk out.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. But on the surface, she remained perfectly still.
"Why me?" he finally asked, his voice low and serious.
This was the question she had prepared for. "Your family," she said, offering a half-truth. "The Sinclair name carries weight in this city. Enough weight for my purposes."
His fingers began to tap a slow, rhythmic beat on the tabletop. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was a measured, thoughtful sound that grated on her frayed nerves. He was weighing her proposal, calculating the angles.
She had gambled everything on this one, insane move.
"Alright," he said, the single word cutting through the tension.
Audrey blinked. "Alright?"
"I accept your proposal," he confirmed, his expression unreadable. "With one condition."
She braced herself. "Which is?"
"The marriage won't be just for show," he said, his blue eyes locking onto hers. "It has to be real. Legally binding. No shortcuts."
She had expected him to ask for money, for some clause in his favor. This was... easier. Too easy. But she couldn't afford to question it.
"Of course," she agreed immediately, a wave of dizzying relief washing over her. "That was always my intention."
He nodded once, as if that settled it. Then he pushed his chair back and stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. He extended a hand to her.
"Then let's go," he said.
Audrey stared at his outstretched hand, confused. "Go? Go where?"
"City Hall," he said, a glimmer of a smile flashed in his eyes again. "If we hurry, we can get it done before they close."
