Chapter 8 The Offer.

Riley's POV:

My hand clutched the doorknob as I stared wide eyed at the man standing before me.

Michael Gray.

The same man whose check I tore and flung in his face just days ago.

He stood tall, his signature tailored suit hugging every inch of his sculpted frame. A glint of something unreadable flickered in his eyes as they swept over my body, taking in my bare face, messy bun, the oversized sweatshirt I wore like armor which is covering the small hello kitty short I'm wearing.

"I didn't think you would actually come," I murmured, My voice barely steady.

"I figured I owed you something," he replied calmly, raising the small object in his hand. "You dropped this."

I blinked as I looked at my sleek, black cardholder.

I had not even noticed it was missing.

Without waiting for an invitation, He stepped forward, slowly, and I didn't stop him.

Why didn't I stop him?

The scent of his cologne hit me first, something clean, expensive, and dangerous. His presence filled my apartment like it belonged, and all I could do was step aside and let him in.

He took a few more steps in, He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the tidy space until it landed on the eviction notice lying on the coffee table.He paused.

His fingers moved. He picked up the eviction notice.

"Shit." I cursed under my breath.

His face didn't change, but I saw the slight twitch in his jaw. He looked at it for a moment, his fingers tapping slowly against the paper, then turned to me and said.

"You are not great at hiding things, Miss Jordan," he said smoothly, folding the paper and setting it back down.

My cheeks flushed red, a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness rising in my chest.

"It's none of your business."

"Maybe not," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "But it does explain a few things."

I didn't respond. The silence stretched, taut and awkward.

Then, he spoke again with a calm, measured tone. But the weight behind each word was undeniable.

"I have a proposal."

I raised an eyebrow. "A check again?"

"No." He tilted his head. "This time, I will speak first."

I waited, arms folded.

"You become my fake girlfriend for one year. Public appearances, media events, corporate functions. "You'll be generously compensated." You will have a place to live, a job in my company, and a monthly allowance. Everything you need will be provided, no strings. Just a contract."

His words were smooth and calculated. A business deal. Like I was just another line in his portfolio.

"You're joking."

"I never joke," he said simply, his tone flat but not cruel. "And I always keep my promises."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek business card. "If you want to discuss the terms further," he said, stepping closer and slipping the card on the table, "you know where to find me."

I stared at the card, my throat tightens, emotions swirling in confusion, frustration, temptation.

Michael turned to leave, his hand already on the door. Before stepping out, he glanced back at me.

"You don't have to like me, Riley," he said, voice low. "You just have to play the part."

Then, without another word, he stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind him, leaving me alone with a storm brewing in my chest... and a card that now weighed heavier than gold.

****

I stood frozen by the door, watching as Michael walked away with that same unreadable expression. His presence lingered even after he was gone, like the scent of something forbidden that you can't quite forget.

My fingers curled around the edge of the door as I slowly closed it. The silence inside my apartment suddenly felt louder than ever. My eyes drifted to the card he left on the table... next to the damn eviction notice that was still mocking me from its spot.

My chest rose and fell. My pride wanted to burn that card to ashes. But reality? Reality was cruel and sharp and didn't care how proud I was.

I paced back and forth.

My thoughts were spiraling.

Fake girlfriend?

A job?

A place to live?

Comfort?

At what cost?

I shook my head, tossing myself on the couch, trying to quiet the storm inside me. This was the man I humiliated. The one I thought I would never see again. The one who looked at me like a challenge he refused to lose. And now he's offering help? Out of what, pity? Amusement?

I stared at the card again.

"I should just throw it away," I whispered to myself.

But I didn't.

Instead, I heard the front door creak open.

"Riley!" Aria's voice rang out before I could say a word. "You didn't lock the damn door, what if it was a stalker?"

I blinked. "You live two blocks down and walk in like you own the place, how would a stalker even get past you?"

She rolled her eyes and dropped her tote on the table before catching sight of the eviction notice. "Oh girl..." she exhaled, sitting beside me.

"I was about to call you," I said softly.

"I figured. You sounded off earlier."

I handed her the card without a word. She studied it, and her eyes slowly widened.

"Wait... Michael Gray was here?

I nodded.

Her mouth opened, then closed again.

"He offered me a fake relationship contract," I said, voice low. "A job... a place to stay... all wrapped in one neat little package."

She stared at me like I'd grown two heads. "Riley. You need to say yes."

I looked away.

"I know how much pride means to you, but this..." She tapped the eviction letter. "This isn't just about pride anymore. You're out of a job, you're broke, and your ex is shacked up with your old boss. What do you have left to lose?"

My throat tightened.

She squeezed my hand. "Take control of the narrative, Ri. If life handed you a contract, maybe it's time you flipped the damn script."

I stared at the card one more time.

I wasn't ready to make that call.

But I was dangerously close.