Chapter 2 Midnight Terms

Sophia stared at Damon Wolfe like he had just proposed she marry the moon."Wife?" she echoed, heart pounding.

"You heard me," he said, removing his cufflinks like this was the most natural conversation in the world.

"A legally binding marriage. Public, strategic, temporary."

She remained frozen in the center of the glass-walled penthouse, dwarfed by steel, shadows, and the man who'd just bought her for two million dollars.

Her brain spun like a carousel she couldn't get off.

"Why marriage?" she asked. "You could have hired an actress. A model. Hell, an actual fiancée."

Damon shot her a look-measured, unreadable. "Because the board members of WEX Technologies don't believe in hired performances.

They believe in tradition. In commitment. In trust. Which means I need someone real. Someone no one would expect."

Sophia laughed-nervously. "So, you bought a stranger?"He stepped closer. "

I didn't buy you. I outbid a room full of opportunists to offer you a choice."She flinched slightly at his intensity.

"I don't want your body, Sophia," he added, voice low. "I want your presence. Your story. Your cooperation."

Her skin tingled at the way he said her name-like it tasted expensive in his mouth."So this is... what? A high-stakes game of dress-up?"

"No. This is war," he said simply.

"And I need a weapon that looks like a woman the world can fall for."Sophia exhaled, shakily.

"And what do I get?"

He walked past her, pouring two glasses of bourbon. "Let's list it out, shall we?"

She followed him cautiously.

"One," Damon said, handing her a glass, "a monthly stipend of twenty-five thousand dollars, deposited into an account in your name."

Her fingers tightened around the glass.

"Two, private health insurance for you and your mother. Three, relocation to this penthouse with full staff privileges.

Four, a complete image overhaul-designer wardrobe, etiquette coaching, media training.

You'll become Mrs. Damon Wolfe in name and form."

Sophia nearly choked. "You're serious.""As a merger worth three billion dollars."She swallowed the burn of bourbon.

"And in return, I smile for cameras and act like I'm in love with a man I don't know?"

His eyes glinted. "Precisely."

Sophia took a moment. The room felt too bright, too clean, too surreal.

A week ago, she couldn't afford fresh paint for her studio.

Today, a billionaire was asking her to become his wife and walk into the lion's den of media scrutiny and boardroom politics.

"How long?" she asked finally."Twelve months. Followed by a quiet, amicable divorce. You'll receive a final payout upon completion.

"Her breath caught. "How much?"

"Two million."She set down the glass with a small clink. "I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered."Damon's lips twitched.

"Then I'm doing it right."She turned away, pacing toward the massive window.

New York glittered beneath her, so far below it felt like another world.

"Why me, Damon?" she whispered. "You could've picked anyone."He was silent for a moment before responding."Because you don't crave this life," he said.

"You don't want fame or fortune.

That makes you incorruptible."Sophia turned to face him. "And what makes you think I'll say yes?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "You came to the auction."

Touché.A heavy silence stretched between them.

"I'll give you until morning," he said at last. "After that, the offer disappears.

"She nodded slowly, her heart still spinning.As he moved past her to disappear down a hallway, she called out softly,

"Damon?"He paused without turning."Do you always get what you want?"His voice floated back like a velvet blade. "Eventually."

Sophia barely slept. Her old self-practical, guarded-shouted that she was crazy to even consider this. But her new reality was cruel.

Her mother's condition was worsening, the bills had doubled, and her art career had become a dream dipped in gasoline.

By dawn, the decision had burned itself into her bones.

She would marry him.

By noon, Sophia stood in front of a team of stylists, publicists, and assistants inside a room that resembled a luxury war bunker. Everyone moved with purpose, as if preparing her for battle.

Her hair was washed, trimmed, styled. Makeup applied. Tailors arrived with custom gowns and coats.

A woman named Renée guided her through a media rehearsal, complete with fake paparazzi flashbulbs.

"Smile softer. Look a little unsure. People need to believe you're smitten, not sedated," Renée said briskly.

Sophia tried. But the truth was, she didn't have to pretend too hard.Every time Damon entered the room, the temperature dropped.

And spiked. And caught fire.

He was magnetic in a way that made her stomach tighten and her mind rebel. The kind of man who walked into a room and claimed it without speaking.

Who could destroy a career with a glance-or make someone a queen with a nod.

By evening, they were sitting side by side at a private dinner arranged for paparazzi "leaks." Candles flickered.

Cameras flashed from a discreet distance. She wore a black silk dress that felt like a second skin.

Damon wore a suit cut so sharply it could draw blood.

When he reached for her hand across the table, his touch was unexpectedly warm.

"You're doing well," he murmured, low enough that only she could hear."

I feel like I'm drowning," she confessed.

"You'll learn to swim."She studied him closely. "Is this what you always do? Keep everything buried behind a wall?"Damon sipped his wine. "Emotion is a liability in my world."

"Then why choose marriage? Isn't that emotional by default?"He didn't answer. Not directly."I had love once," he said after a pause.

"It made me weak."Sophia watched him, something softening in her chest. "So now you buy strength instead."

His gaze flicked to hers, sharp and searching. "Are you strong, Sophia?"

"I guess we're about to find out."

That night, she stood alone on the penthouse balcony.

Below, the city roared. Behind her, Damon's world waited-cold, gold-edged, and lethal.

She closed her eyes.In the space between midnight and morning, she had become someone else. A stranger in a borrowed life.

Mrs. Damon Wolfe.

The contract was signed. But the consequences?

They were just beginning.