Chapter 3 JULIAN'S POV

Julian Styles didn't beg. He didn't explain himself either. When he wanted something, he took it.

That was the rule. The rhythm. The very foundation of my name.

So when I sat in the obsidian-black leather chair at the head of the Styles International conference room that morning, the last thing I expected was a marriage ultimatum.

Across from me, was my father staring with that same disapproving sneer I had known since childhood.

"You're almost thirty-five, Julian,"

"Thirty" ..

"And still not married,"Henry Styles said flatly.

I leaned back in my chair, ice-blue eyes unreadable. "And yet here I am. Running half your empire."

My mother, Mallory, who sat beside dad cool, elegant, in pearls and polished heels.

"You're a public figure now," she chimed in. "There are expectations. We're not asking you to fall in love. Just... look respectable."

"Respectable?" My jaw twitched. "You want me to play husband like it's a seasonal role."

"If it keeps the board happy, yes," Henry snapped. "If it keeps investors from questioning your personal stability, yes."

My gaze darkened. "You want me to parade some empty socialite for photo ops?"

"You need a wife,"Mallory said simply. "Whether you like it or not. That's the condition. No engagement, no marriage no inheritance."

That was it I stood, are these people not tired of this same topic I told myself.

The room quieted.

Julian was tall lean muscle under crisp charcoal suits. His presence always sucked the air out of a room. Cold. Beautiful. Dangerous. The kind of man you fantasize about and fear in equal measure.

I exhaled slowly.

Then "Fine."

His parents blinked.

"I have someone," I said coolly, adjusting my cufflinks. "We've kept it private."

Ok why I said this i don't know why but it's not a bad idea

Henry narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

I paused and smiled as I thought of the right person to use.

A flash of blonde hair, startled brown eyes, and trembling fingers hit my mind.

I hadn't seen her since that day at the café. Aria Reed.

"She's... unconventional," I said. "Not from our world. But exactly what you want. Quiet. Loyal."

Mallory leaned in. "Does she know?"

"She will," I replied.

I didn't waste time.

I have to meet her since she didn't respond well to what blaze sent to her.

By afternoon, I was in his sleek black Maserati, engine humming as I pulled up to the modest brownstone in Brooklyn. Not my kind of place. But hers.

I had my reasons for not coming with the driver..

I stepped out, crisp boots hitting the sidewalk like punctuation.

Aria Reed lived here.

The girl with shaky hands and stubborn eyes. I remembered the heat of the spilled tea. The sting of her name on my chest is like perfume. There'd been something... pure about her. Too pure.

Exactly what made her useful.

Of course I wasn't a man who chased women. They usually chased me drawn to the mystery, the cold arrogance, the silent confidence I wore like cologne.

But Aria?

She hadn't even looked at him like he mattered.

And now, he was offering her everything.

I rang the doorbell. No answer.

Then I heard a voice inside. Soft. Feminine. And annoyed.

"Hold on, I'm coming!"

The door opened.

Aria stood barefoot in an oversized T-shirt, a dish towel in one hand, blonde hair pulled into a messy bun.

Her skin was smooth and honey-toned, those rich brown doe eyes blinking in confusion as she saw him.

"You?" she said.

I arched my brow. "You remember me."

She stepped halfway into the doorway, hand gripping the knob. "You're that guy from the café."

"Julian Styles," I said smoothly . "May I come in?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I have a proposition. One you'll want to hear."

Inside, she reluctantly let me sit on a patched-up couch while she folded her arms like armor.

"Make it quick," she said trying to sound annoyed or disturbed but who was she trying to fool I could send that she was scared or anxious about why I came

I studied her.

She had curves she clearly tried to hide under soft cotton. Legs tucked under her like she didn't know how stunning they were. No makeup. No polish.

Not bad, not bad

Just raw beauty. Realness.

I leaned forward, with my knees crossed. "I want you to marry me."

The silence was immediate.

Aria blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to enter a legally binding contract marriage. With me. For one year. Strictly business."

She laughed.

I didn't.

She stared. "You're serious."

"Very."

"Are you insane?"

"Some would say brilliant."

She stood. "Get out."

"I'll pay you two billion dollars."

Her breath caught.

I smirked, got you there didn't I?

"You'll get one billion upfront. The rest when the year is over. Terms will be simple. You'll attend a few events, smile for the press, play the part. Then we divorce. Clean. Quiet."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

I stood, closing the space between us.

I didn't touch her. But my presence... dominated.

"You won't have to sleep with me," I added in a low voice. "Unless you want to."

Her face flushed.

I leaned in, just slightly. "And trust me, Aria. If you do... you'll beg for more."

She shoved me back.

"I don't care how much money you have," she snapped. "You can't buy me."

I didn't flinch. "It's not about buying you. It's about using each other."

"I'm not a pawn."

Now she's wasting my time

"No," I said softly. "You're a solution."

She trembled. "Get out of my house."

I nodded, coolly.

Then reached into my inner pocket, pulled out a black and gold card, and placed it on the table.

"You have 24 hours," I said. "To think. To choose."

She didn't look at the card. Didn't say another word.

I walked to the door and paused. "You should know," I added, voice like ice. "There are women who'd kill for this spot."

She turned to him, fierce. "Then go find one of them."

My lips curled in a wicked half-smile.

"No," I said. "I want the one who doesn't want me."

And then left.

The next morning, I sat shirtless in my penthouse suite, sipping black coffee as I reviewed documents on my tablet. Behind me, the New York skyline glowed beneath a stormy sky.

Nicole's name popped up in my email.

I ignored it.

She'd left me for my business rival, Grey Vale manipulative bastard that he was.

Nicole had wanted power. I had wanted peace.

She chose ambition. I chose silence.

She choose money over love

And now, she was trying to crawl back.

"I heard you're seeing someone new," her message read.

"She won't last. You don't do love, Jules. You destroy it."

Now how did she know that

Sighs

I had to delete the message.

Then, for some reason, I thought of Aria.

No. She wasn't like Nicole.

She was... real.

And she had no idea what kind of game she'd just been invited to.

That night, Aria lay in bed, staring at the card.

Julian Styles.

Billionaire. Control freak. Devil in a suit.

And now the man who had offered her salvation in exchange for pretending to love him.

She could use the money.

She could save her brother's future.

She could survive.

But could she trust herself?

She thought about his voice. The way her name sounded in his mouth, the way his tongue rolled while saying her name. The way her body had reacted when he stood too close. Heat. Confusion. Need.

She pressed her thighs together, shivering.

God, no.

This wasn't a romance novel.

This was a transaction.

So why did it already feel like temptation?

Meanwhile, Julian stood in his dark bedroom, silk sheets behind him, rain tapping against the window like applause.

He watched the city

And imagined what she'd look like in his bed.

Her legs tangled in his sheets.

Her mouth gasped.

Her anger burned into desire.

He didn't smile.

He didn't fantasize often.

But tonight, he let it happen.

And it felt... dangerous.

Because Aria Reed wasn't just a contract.

She was a gamble.

And Julian Styles never lost.....

Julian Styles didn't beg. He didn't explain himself either. When he wanted something, he took it.

That was the rule. The rhythm. The very foundation of my name.

So when I sat in the obsidian-black leather chair at the head of the Styles International conference room that morning, the last thing I expected was a marriage ultimatum.

Across from me, was my father staring with that same disapproving sneer I had known since childhood.

"You're almost thirty-five, Julian,"

"Thirty" ..

"And still not married,"Henry Styles said flatly.

I leaned back in my chair, ice-blue eyes unreadable. "And yet here I am. Running half your empire."

My mother, Mallory, who sat beside dad cool, elegant, in pearls and polished heels.

"You're a public figure now," she chimed in. "There are expectations. We're not asking you to fall in love. Just... look respectable."

"Respectable?" My jaw twitched. "You want me to play husband like it's a seasonal role."

"If it keeps the board happy, yes," Henry snapped. "If it keeps investors from questioning your personal stability, yes."

My gaze darkened. "You want me to parade some empty socialite for photo ops?"

"You need a wife,"Mallory said simply. "Whether you like it or not. That's the condition. No engagement, no marriage no inheritance."

That was it I stood, are these people not tired of this same topic I told myself.

The room quieted.

Julian was tall lean muscle under crisp charcoal suits. His presence always sucked the air out of a room. Cold. Beautiful. Dangerous. The kind of man you fantasize about and fear in equal measure.

I exhaled slowly.

Then "Fine."

His parents blinked.

"I have someone," I said coolly, adjusting my cufflinks. "We've kept it private."

Ok why I said this i don't know why but it's not a bad idea

Henry narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

I paused and smiled as I thought of the right person to use.

A flash of blonde hair, startled brown eyes, and trembling fingers hit my mind.

I hadn't seen her since that day at the café. Aria Reed.

"She's... unconventional," I said. "Not from our world. But exactly what you want. Quiet. Loyal."

Mallory leaned in. "Does she know?"

"She will," I replied.

I didn't waste time.

I have to meet her since she didn't respond well to what blaze sent to her.

By afternoon, I was in his sleek black Maserati, engine humming as I pulled up to the modest brownstone in Brooklyn. Not my kind of place. But hers.

I had my reasons for not coming with the driver..

I stepped out, crisp boots hitting the sidewalk like punctuation.

Aria Reed lived here.

The girl with shaky hands and stubborn eyes. I remembered the heat of the spilled tea. The sting of her name on my chest is like perfume. There'd been something... pure about her. Too pure.

Exactly what made her useful.

Of course I wasn't a man who chased women. They usually chased me drawn to the mystery, the cold arrogance, the silent confidence I wore like cologne.

But Aria?

She hadn't even looked at him like he mattered.

And now, he was offering her everything.

I rang the doorbell. No answer.

Then I heard a voice inside. Soft. Feminine. And annoyed.

"Hold on, I'm coming!"

The door opened.

Aria stood barefoot in an oversized T-shirt, a dish towel in one hand, blonde hair pulled into a messy bun.

Her skin was smooth and honey-toned, those rich brown doe eyes blinking in confusion as she saw him.

"You?" she said.

I arched my brow. "You remember me."

She stepped halfway into the doorway, hand gripping the knob. "You're that guy from the café."

"Julian Styles," I said smoothly . "May I come in?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I have a proposition. One you'll want to hear."

Inside, she reluctantly let me sit on a patched-up couch while she folded her arms like armor.

"Make it quick," she said trying to sound annoyed or disturbed but who was she trying to fool I could send that she was scared or anxious about why I came

I studied her.

She had curves she clearly tried to hide under soft cotton. Legs tucked under her like she didn't know how stunning they were. No makeup. No polish.

Not bad, not bad

Just raw beauty. Realness.

I leaned forward, with my knees crossed. "I want you to marry me."

The silence was immediate.

Aria blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"I want you to enter a legally binding contract marriage. With me. For one year. Strictly business."

She laughed.

I didn't.

She stared. "You're serious."

"Very."

"Are you insane?"

"Some would say brilliant."

She stood. "Get out."

"I'll pay you two billion dollars."

Her breath caught.

I smirked, got you there didn't I?

"You'll get one billion upfront. The rest when the year is over. Terms will be simple. You'll attend a few events, smile for the press, play the part. Then we divorce. Clean. Quiet."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

I stood, closing the space between us.

I didn't touch her. But my presence... dominated.

"You won't have to sleep with me," I added in a low voice. "Unless you want to."

Her face flushed.

I leaned in, just slightly. "And trust me, Aria. If you do... you'll beg for more."

She shoved me back.

"I don't care how much money you have," she snapped. "You can't buy me."

I didn't flinch. "It's not about buying you. It's about using each other."

"I'm not a pawn."

Now she's wasting my time

"No," I said softly. "You're a solution."

She trembled. "Get out of my house."

I nodded, coolly.

Then reached into my inner pocket, pulled out a black and gold card, and placed it on the table.

"You have 24 hours," I said. "To think. To choose."

She didn't look at the card. Didn't say another word.

I walked to the door and paused. "You should know," I added, voice like ice. "There are women who'd kill for this spot."

She turned to him, fierce. "Then go find one of them."

My lips curled in a wicked half-smile.

"No," I said. "I want the one who doesn't want me."

And then left.

The next morning, I sat shirtless in my penthouse suite, sipping black coffee as I reviewed documents on my tablet. Behind me, the New York skyline glowed beneath a stormy sky.

Nicole's name popped up in my email.

I ignored it.

She'd left me for my business rival, Grey Vale manipulative bastard that he was.

Nicole had wanted power. I had wanted peace.

She chose ambition. I chose silence.

She choose money over love

And now, she was trying to crawl back.

"I heard you're seeing someone new," her message read.

"She won't last. You don't do love, Jules. You destroy it."

Now how did she know that

Sighs

I had to delete the message.

Then, for some reason, I thought of Aria.

No. She wasn't like Nicole.

She was... real.

And she had no idea what kind of game she'd just been invited to.

That night, Aria lay in bed, staring at the card.

Julian Styles.

Billionaire. Control freak. Devil in a suit.

And now the man who had offered her salvation in exchange for pretending to love him.

She could use the money.

She could save her brother's future.

She could survive.

But could she trust herself?

She thought about his voice. The way her name sounded in his mouth, the way his tongue rolled while saying her name. The way her body had reacted when he stood too close. Heat. Confusion. Need.

She pressed her thighs together, shivering.

God, no.

This wasn't a romance novel.

This was a transaction.

So why did it already feel like temptation?

Meanwhile, Julian stood in his dark bedroom, silk sheets behind him, rain tapping against the window like applause.

He watched the city

And imagined what she'd look like in his bed.

Her legs tangled in his sheets.

Her mouth gasped.

Her anger burned into desire.

He didn't smile.

He didn't fantasize often.

But tonight, he let it happen.

And it felt... dangerous.

Because Aria Reed wasn't just a contract.

She was a gamble.

And Julian Styles never lost.....