A Deal With The Billionaire, a secret with his enemy
Chapter 1
‘If she had known that one ruined cake would unravel her entire world, perhaps she would have stayed back and let the rain swallow up the day. But she didn't. She ran instead, not from disaster, but straight into it. Into the moment that would shatter and rewrite every rule she thought she lived by.’
The rain lashed against her skin, cold and punishing.
Thunder roared above like war drums, as if the sky would fall on her.
But Trisha didn't care.
She was too desperate to care.
Her sneakers, thin and worn, squished with every step as she sprinted towards the hospital, clutching a small, square-sized vanilla cake box.
It was her brother Liam's birthday, and she had not remembered early enough to bake him a cake like she had always done in previous years.
The past couple of days had been rough.
But still…
How could she have forgotten?
She burst into the hospital lobby, her soaked clothes and shoes leaving a trail of water and mud behind her as she ran towards the elevators.
She slammed the up button. Nothing. Slammed again. Still nothing.
“Come on…” she muttered in frustration.
It was almost past visiting hours.
The lights above the elevator doors only flickered in protest.
She groaned loudly, “Fine!” and then turned sharply to the stairs.
She began to climb fast, obviously too fast because her wet shoes slipped halfway up and her foot caught the edge of the step.
She fell forward, the cake box flying out of her grip and colliding with someone's chest.
“Oh, no! No, no, no!” Trisha cried out.
She scrambled up and climbed a few more stairs.
“Please no…” She dropped to her knees, trying to gather whatever was left of the mess.
“You sure know how to make an impression,” she heard a deep, amused voice above her.
She looked up and froze as she stared at the most striking figure she had ever seen.
6'4". Sharp jaw. Deep grey eyes. His smooth, perfectly styled hair almost grazing his eyebrows.
He was casually dressed. Wearing a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up enough to expose his tattooed arms.
His scent filled her nostrils. A unique blend of peaches and strawberries.
Odd for a male of his physique.
“I—I’m so sorry. I wasn't looking.” Trisha stammered.
The man's lips curved into an arrogant smirk. “Obviously.”
There was a quiet authority in his voice, calm but impossible to ignore.
Trisha shuddered but doubted it was due to the cold biting angrily at her skin.
“How do we take care of this?” He spoke again.
Trisha's eyes darted to his ruined shirt.
“I—I'm…” Her voice shook. Exhaustion settling on her shoulders.
Her knees still stung from the fall.
“I might know a way,” the man said, slipping a business card into her soiled palms.
His fingers brushed hers briefly, sparking an unwanted feeling in her chest.
“You clearly owe me a new shirt; come by my office in two days and we can discuss.” He said, still wearing a smirk as he walked away.
A new shirt?
Oh God.
Trisha muttered as she stared at his retreating figure.
That shirt probably cost more than her salaries from the last three months put together. Maybe even four!
She looked down at the name on the card, and her stomach dropped.
‘LUCIAN CROSS’
***************
Trisha sat stiffly in the most magnificent office inside the cold glass fortress of Cross Enterprises.
The office was everything like its owner. Intimidating and flawless.
Even its revolving doors seemed to judge her as if they knew she didn't belong there.
She stared at a single sheet laid in front of her.
A marriage proposal.
Boldly written and staring back at her.
Was this his idea of a way?
“I need a wife,” he said bluntly. “A year. Nothing more. It'll help ruin my father's plan of an arranged marriage.”
Trisha stared at him.
Was he being serious?
Amidst the numerous storms she was facing, marriage was the last thing on her mind.
Lucian leaned closer. “That was your younger brother in the intensive ward, right?”
Trisha looked at him.
“How did you know that?”
“Ran a background check on you,” he shrugged.
Trisha's eyes burned as her memory drifted…
“It's cancer. Stage three. Six months at most with due treatments. I'm sorry, Miss Reynolds.”
The doctor's brutal voice had echoed in her head. Over and over as he announced her brother's devastating condition.
Lucian's voice snapped her back to reality. “You need the money, and I need the disguise. The choice is yours.”
Trisha's phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message.
Her face scrunched as she silently read it.
She looked at the payment margin on the paper.
Fifty million dollars.
A whole lot of money.
More than enough to take care of her brother's enormous hospital bills.
More than enough to wipe away every shadow of poverty that clung to her like a stain she could never wash away.
Even more than enough to fund the luxury life she had always dreamed of.
And one signature was all it took.
One year surely wouldn't mean her end.
She took one final look at Lucian.
“Where do I sign?”
Lucian's lips curled into a smirk as he directed her hands.
With one swift movement, her hands wet and trembling, Trisha signed the document.
Lucian kept watching her, his expression unreadable.
‘Desperate. Naive. And willing to do anything for the people she loves.
She is controllable.
She is perfect.
The perfect pawn, the perfect cover, and the perfect prey.
She just didn't know it yet.
He smiled evilly to himself as his bodyguard led her quietly out of the office.
**********
Trisha walked into the local precinct and immediately felt nauseous.
The stench of sweat and unwashed bodies filled the air as the officers scrambled about their work.
She took a seat closer to a small broken window and a middle-aged, plump woman with silver-threaded hair walked up to her and sat down.
Her facial features were covered with wrinkles and fine lines.
The brown Fendi hoodie she wore, faded from many washes, practically begged for freedom.
“You said you would get me out; why am I still in here?” She said to Trisha. A disgusted look on her face.
“I can't do that overnight, Mom.” Trisha answered.
The woman looked at Trisha for more than a while.
“You think I did it, don't you?”
“Mom…”
“Don't you fucking lie to my face! I know you think I did it. You probably want me to rot in here!”
Trisha rose up.
She pinched the sides of her head as she felt a migraine coming.
“I'll find a good lawyer. I'll get you out. Just… a little more time.” With that, she turned and stepped out of the precinct.
Finally able to breathe clean, fresh air.
Her hand unconsciously drifted to her belly, rubbing it gently as she recalled the earlier marriage deal.
Her brother's health condition might have been the driving force behind her decision.
Her mother's case might have greatly affected it too.
But the biggest reason for it?
It was the little baby secretly growing in her womb.
A baby whose father's identity remained a mystery, even to her.
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