Marriage Of Convenience: Her Heart, His Obsession
[{EXCERPT}]
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
Alana froze.
Roman's gaze dragged slowly over her body, dark and deliberate.
"The contract explicitly states that you are not allowed to seduce me," he said calmly. "You did read it... didn't you?"
Confusion flickered across her face.
Then his eyes dropped again.
"You do realize," he added, voice lowering, "that you're half naked right now?"
Alana's breath caught as she looked down at herself.
.......
After escaping the suffocating grip of her abusive family, Alana believes she's finally free. But freedom comes at a price.
Roman Ashford is everything she should avoid. A cunning billionaire. New York's most eligible bachelor. A man whose name alone unsettles the entire business world.
One unexpected encounter pulls her into his orbit, binding her to him in a dangerous arrangement as his fake girlfriend for thirty-one days.
But just as she begins to find her footing, her past comes back to choke her.
To secure the inheritance her late father left behind before her mother claims it, Alana has only one option.
She needs a husband, and fast.
With time running out, she makes a reckless decision and turns to the one man she should never trust.
Will Roman accept her proposal...
or will stepping into his world be her utter ruin?
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Chapter 3
With one short stride, Roman stood right in front of Alana, causing her heart rate to skyrocket. Her gaze remained fixed on his chest, and she dared not meet his intimidating eyes.
She anticipated that he was about to take some action, but to her surprise, he simply reached for the envelope she tightly clutched in her hand. He gently pulled it from her grasp before stepping back and taking a seat.
Alana exhaled with relief as soon as he moved away from her.
"Sit," Roman said, tearing open the envelope to reveal a brown paper.
"I can't. I should be on my way," Alana replied, attempting to leave.
"I insist that you sit... for your own good, at least," Roman said coldly, causing her to pause.
Alana glanced at the wall clock, realizing she still had some time. She decided to stay and listen to whatever he had to say.
Roman finally set aside the file, his full attention fixed on her. "You must have seen the disaster you caused, right?" he asked.
"What disaster did I cause?" Alana asked, confusion evident in her voice.
"When was the last time you checked social media?" Roman asked.
"A month ago," Alana replied, wondering where this conversation was heading.
"Someone exaggerated what happened at the cafe the other day on social media, saying I assaulted you," Roman said.
"Oh," Alana responded, realization dawning on her. She had completely forgotten about that incident since it happened a week ago.
Now she finally understood why everyone had been staring at her in school and even here.
"But I still don't see how this is my fault. I wasn't the one yelling like an insane person," Alana said, the last part spoken in a lowered tone, though Roman still heard her.
"I'm not putting the blame entirely on you," Roman replied calmly.
"If I recall correctly, you said I caused this disaster," Alana retorted.
"Can you shut up for five f*cking seconds?" Roman frowned, his patience wearing thin. He sighed.
"I didn't ask Ryan to send you here so we could pick up where we left off last time."
"You were the one who asked Ryan to..."
"Yes," Roman cut her short with his answer, already knowing what she was going to ask. Alana frowned. She was definitely going to have a word with Ryan about this.
"So why am I here?" Alana asked, her impatience evident. She wanted to get this over with.
"I have a proposal to make," Roman paused, a slight frown appearing between his brows as if he didn't particularly like what he was about to say next. "Be my girlfriend for thirty-one days."
The room fell silent for a few seconds, before Alana burst into laughter, she couldn't help but find the proposal absurd. She covered her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter, but it escaped in bursts.
"Are you serious?" she managed to say between giggles.
Roman's serious expression only made it more comical to her.
"You're really good at making hilarious jokes," Alana chuckled.
"I am not joking. I mean it," Roman said with a serious face.
"Well, Mr...," Alana paused, not feeling inclined to address him by his name. "Ryan's friend, I am not interested."
"I will give you anything you ask for if you agree to this," Roman said, his voice sounding desperate.
Alana's attention was caught by what he said. The offer he was making was quite intriguing. She wasn't interested in his money, though. But there was something else she was interested in.
"Anything I ask for?" she repeated, emphasizing the words.
"Anything," Roman replied. Alana's lips immediately stretched into a wide smile.
"Then I accept your proposal," she said, her eyes sparkling with joy.
Roman stared at her, trying to ascertain if her answer was serious or just a joke, as she smiled like a five-year-old.
"I'm being serious here, Mr. I accept your proposal," Alana repeated.
"What made you change your mind?" Roman asked, still somewhat taken aback.
Alana points towards the landscape painting hanging on the wall.
"That painting. You said I could ask for anything, so I want that painting by the time our agreement ends."
"You drive a hard bargain, but deal. You'll have the painting," Roman agreed.
Little did Alana know that the painting held sentimental value to him, making her request more than just a mere item of interest.
"I'll get the paperwork done today," Roman said as he stood up, holding the document in his hand. "Come back tomorrow."
In that moment, Alana noticed the natural black mole on his jaw. She wondered how she had missed it before, as it was nearly impossible not to notice the dot, which only accentuated his already handsome face.
"Paperwork?" Alana asked, her eyes still admiring the mole.
"Yes," Roman replied. "You'll need to sign a contract to make it official."
...
Throughout the entire day, Alana found it difficult to focus on anything, even during her classes. Her mind kept drifting back to the events of that morning. She couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that she might be making a big mistake by agreeing to Roman's proposal. However, the thought of reclaiming the painting overshadowed her doubts. That painting held immense sentimental value to her, as it was a cherished memento of her late father. It contained the last memories they had shared together.
After her classes were over, Alana didn't head back home immediately. Instead, she drove to a quiet spot she had discovered earliar to clear her head.
The view of the setting sun was incredibly soothing, and Alana sighed, realizing that all she had to do was become a great actress in the public eye and tolerate Roman's attitude for just thirty-one days. How hard could that be?
When Alana finally arrived home, it was already dark everywhere. She spotted her aunt's driver speaking with Mr. Brandon on the side, which indicated that her aunt was home.
She was heading straight for the dining room, but she abruptly halted in her tracks upon hearing her name being mentioned by her aunt.
"She's been through a lot this year. I can't just help but worry about her." Alana heard her aunt say, her concern evident in her voice.
"She looks fine to me, mom." Alana heard Ryan reply.
"If she was fine, she wouldn't have tried to kill herself in the first place," Alana heard her aunt say with certainty in her voice. "I know her mother asked me not to talk about it with her, but still, I can't relax on this issue. I'm afraid that she might try to hurt herself again."
Alana had heard enough, so she went straight to her room. She no longer had an appetite to eat. She opened the door and slammed it shut after entering.
She threw her bag to the ground and scoffed bitterly.
"You painted the story so well, Mom," Alana muttered as she stripped off her clothes. "I bet he told you to say that."
Alana snickered mockingly before entering the bathroom and turning on the shower. The cold water cascaded down her body like calming waves, but it still wasn't enough to ease her anger towards her mother.
...
The next morning, Alana woke up feeling dull as she had barely gotten any sleep the night before.
Since it was a Saturday, she didn't have any classes. She got out of bed and started getting ready to head to Roman's place.
She put on a tank top and tight jean trousers, then wore a brown leather jacket long enough to cover her wrists. She picked up Ryan's car keys before heading out.
On her way out, she ran into Rosalind, who was on the phone with someone. Alana mouthed a 'good morning' to her and was about to continue on, but Rosalind gestured for her to wait.
Rosalind pulled the phone away for a moment.
"Your mom wants to speak with you," she said, handing the phone over, to Alana.
Alana's face instantly turned to a frown, as her gaze settled on the phone.
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8.7
I sat at a mahogany table in River Oaks, clutching the strap of a pilled black dress from a life I’d lost five years ago. I was an exile in a world of old money, just trying to survive a dinner party I didn't belong in.
Then the doors opened, and Baron Lowery walked in. He was no longer the boy I’d loved, but a powerful man with eyes like a storm front. When the host asked if we’d met, Baron didn't even blink.
"I don't know her," he said.
The erasure was a physical blow. His new girlfriend spent the night mocking my "quaint" legal aid work and calling me a washed-up gold digger. Baron didn't defend me; he watched my humiliation with a cold, predatory stillness. During a game of Truth or Dare, he stared me down, waiting for a confession. To protect his career and the secret of my father’s federal crimes, I looked him in the eye and told the ultimate lie: "No regrets."
He retaliated by pinning me against a concrete wall in a dark stairwell, crushing his mouth to mine in a kiss that felt like a punishment. He told me I wasn't worth the effort and left me. I retreated to my real life—a moldy trailer and a blackmailer named Harvey who was forcing me into a marriage to save my father from prison.
I thought I’d hit rock bottom until Baron’s silver Bentley pulled up to my slum. He didn't come to apologize. He flipped open a checkbook, scribbled fifty thousand dollars, and held it out like I was a common streetwalker.
"One night," he demanded. "Do whatever I say, and it's yours."
I looked at the man I’d sacrificed my entire soul for and realized he’d finally become the monster I'd tried to save him from. I shoved the check back in his face and ran into the rain, leaving the billionaire staring at the trailer park, unable to understand why the "gold digger" he hated so much wouldn't take his money.
9.1
Alysia lay on the freezing operating table, moments away from donating her kidney to her brother's fiancée.
But as the anesthesia set in, a violent shock tore through her brain, awakening agonizing memories of a thousand brutal deaths across a thousand past lifetimes.
She suddenly realized her family's true plan. Her brother and his fiancée weren't just taking her organ; they were secretly plotting to declare her mentally unfit post-surgery to steal her entire trust fund.
When Alysia abruptly stopped the procedure and exposed the fiancée's kidney failure as the result of severe drug abuse, her family's reaction was chilling.
Her father didn't care about the truth or the law. He ordered his bodyguards to lock Alysia up until she agreed to the surgery, while her brother threatened to freeze her assets and seize her late mother's penthouse.
"You have no heart, Alysia. You don't deserve the Kent name," her aunt spat in disgust.
For lifetimes, she had kept her head down, taking the blame and sacrificing everything for a family that viewed her as nothing more than a disposable blood bag and a financial pawn.
The resignation that had clouded her eyes for so long vanished, replaced by the absolute, zero-degree cold of a glacier.
Ripping the IV from her hand and leaving her family in stunned silence, Alysia walked straight out of the hospital.
She had exactly forty-six hours to find a husband to secure her inheritance, and she knew exactly which ruthless billionaire CEO to target to help her burn the Kent family to the ground.
9.0
I was the poor girl from Appalachia the wealthy Copeland family adopted out of "charity," bringing me to a life of New York luxury I could never have imagined.
But it was all a lie. I wasn't their daughter. I was a living, breathing blood bank for their precious child, Bridgette, whose life had been secretly saved by my bone marrow.
Once I was no longer useful, they decided to throw me away. On the night of Bridgette's lavish engagement party, she and her fiancé framed me. They drugged my water, lured me to a hotel suite, and tore my designer gown to stage a scene.
Her fiancé stood over me, his face twisted in disgust. "Did you really think spreading your legs would make me forget where you came from? You're just a trashy hillbilly."
Outside on Fifth Avenue, my adoptive parents screamed at me in front of the press, calling me a disgrace. My sister wept, accusing me of trying to destroy her perfect life out of jealousy.
They expected me to crumble, to become the pathetic scandal they could discard like garbage. They thought they were dealing with a scared, helpless girl from the mountains.
But they made a fatal mistake. The soul of that poor girl was already gone. And I, the top-tier operative known as Glacier, had just woken up in her body.
8.3
Sandra was a mistress: a temporary escape for billionaire David Kingsley.
But in the shadows of his study, "temporary" turned into a dangerous addiction.
When David brutally casts her back into the poverty she fought to escape, Sandra plays her final card: a lie about a pregnancy to keep him tied to her.
The lie becomes a terrifying reality just as David announces his "perfect" life is expanding with a child of his own.
Now, Sandra isn't just a discarded mistress; she's a woman with a secret that could topple an empire.
How far will a woman go when she has nothing left to lose but the life growing inside her?
9.0
I married the CEO of the powerful Powers Corporation, and everyone saw me as the perfect trophy wife. They assumed my days were filled with nothing but shopping on Fifth Avenue.
But this prestigious family was a house of cards. My husband's siblings were spoiled, useless children threatening to bring the entire empire down with their stupidity.
His brother, Braden, was a parasite who mistook his trust fund for "freedom." His sister, Chelsea, was a brainless socialite being used as a pawn in a public scandal by a con artist.
Even the family's ruthless Chief of Staff, a man meant to be their shield, looked at me with utter contempt, viewing me as just another problem to be managed.
They all saw a fragile doll. They had no idea that their weakness was an insult to the family name, and I was not going to stand for it.
It was time to discipline the children. The first lesson began at 3,000 feet, when I kicked my brother-in-law out of a plane mid-flight. His rehabilitation—and my takeover of this family—had just begun.
8.9
Aubree Hamilton was the top-tier executive assistant to Wall Street's most ruthless titan, Beck Franco. A month ago, she made a catastrophic mistake and spent the night in his bed.
Thinking she had erased the mistake with a morning-after pill, she panicked upon his return and lied about being engaged to push him away.
But Beck, a man who despised disloyalty above all else, immediately suspended her and ordered her escorted out of the building. Her nightmare only escalated when her toxic ex-boyfriend attacked her on the street, tearing her purse open and exposing the empty morning-after pill box to the public—and to Beck, who was watching from his penthouse. After having his security rescue her, Beck trapped her in his car, ruthlessly tearing apart her fake engagement. Later in her apartment, the suffocating tension between them almost ignited into a kiss, but a violent wave of nausea suddenly hit Aubree.
She shoved him away with all her strength and violently threw up in the bathroom.
Beck took it as the ultimate physical disgust. He walked out, deeply humiliated and dangerously obsessed, unleashing his resources to investigate her every move.
Left alone and trembling, Aubree finally checked the crushed white box. The pill she took had expired a month ago.
Staring at the two bright pink lines on the pregnancy test, she made a desperate vow: Beck Franco could never know she was carrying his child, and she had to disappear before he found out.