Accidentally Married The Tycoon .

Emily POV

The first time I met Rowan Blackwood, I was standing in a wedding dress I couldn't afford, holding a pen that could ruin my life.

He stood across the table in a black suit, looking at me as if I were a problem someone had forgotten to solve.

"You're Emily Carter?"

I tightened my grip on the pen.

"And you're the man I'm supposed to marry?"

His expression didn't change. "That depends. What were you promised?"

Not hello. Not you look beautiful. Not even are you sure about this?

Just a question that made my stomach twist.

I glanced at the closed doors behind me. Ten minutes earlier, a woman had escorted me into this private room at a Manhattan hotel and told me everything was ready. The ceremony would be discreet. The agreement would be signed. The payment would arrive afterward.

I'd been too desperate to ask why the groom's name wasn't on any of the documents I'd received.

Now I wished I'd asked a hundred questions.

"I was told this was a private marriage arrangement," I said carefully. "One year. No public appearances unless necessary. A financial settlement when the marriage ends."

Rowan's jaw tightened.

"Interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"That isn't what I was told."

My heart sank.

I looked down at the papers on the table. My name appeared on the first page. Beside it was a blank space where my future husband's signature belonged.

"Then there's been a mistake."

"Possibly."

He said it so calmly that I wanted to throw the pen at him.

"Possibly?" I repeated. "I'm wearing a wedding dress, standing in a private room, and about to marry a stranger. How is that only possibly a mistake?"

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.

Amusement, perhaps.

It disappeared before I could be sure.

"Because someone went to considerable trouble to arrange this meeting."

I set the pen down.

"Then let that someone explain themselves. I'm leaving."

I turned toward the door.

"Emily."

I stopped, annoyed that his voice could make my name sound like a command.

"What?"

"If you walk out now, you may lose the settlement you were promised."

I faced him again.

He knew about the money.

That meant whoever had arranged this had given him at least some information about me.

"How much do you know about my situation?" I asked.

"Enough to know you need the money."

Heat rushed to my face.

I hated pity. I hated people who looked at my worn shoes and assumed they could buy my obedience. Most of all, I hated that he was right.

My landlord had given me until Friday to pay three months of overdue rent. My mother's medical bills were waiting on the kitchen table at home, and the café where I'd worked for nearly two years had dismissed me that morning without warning.

I'd spent the entire day pretending I wasn't terrified.

This arrangement was supposed to give me a way out.

Instead, it had delivered me to a stranger who looked as though he owned every room he entered.

"You don't know me," I said.

"No. But I know what desperation looks like."

I stepped closer to the table.

"And I know what arrogance looks like. We all have our talents."

His gaze sharpened.

For one brief second, I thought he might tell me to leave.

Instead, he pulled out the chair opposite him.

"Sit down. Let's find out who arranged this."

I should have refused.

I sat.

He opened a slim folder and removed a document bearing the seal of a private legal firm. The agreement described a temporary marriage, a fixed settlement, and strict confidentiality.

But the groom's name had been left blank.

"Who sent you here?" he asked.

"A woman calling herself Mrs. Hayes. She contacted me through an agency that handles private arrangements."

"Did you meet her in person?"

"No. Everything was arranged online."

"Did you verify the agency?"

I stared at him.

"Do you ask everyone this many questions before a wedding, or am I receiving special treatment?"

"Only when the arrangements are suspicious."

"Then perhaps you should have checked before showing up."

His mouth tightened, but he didn't argue.

He turned another page.

"There's a clause requiring both parties to maintain the marriage publicly for a minimum period. There's also a provision tied to a family trust review."

I leaned forward.

"A family trust?"

"It's complicated."

"That's what people say when they don't want to explain something."

His eyes met mine.

"You're not wrong."

It was the first honest thing he'd said, and somehow that made me more suspicious.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Rowan Blackwood."

The name meant nothing to me at first.

Then I remembered the business magazines stacked beside the café register. The photographs of a man who had taken over his family's corporation and turned it into one of the most powerful companies in the country.

Blackwood Holdings.

I looked at him again.

"You're that Rowan Blackwood?"

"Unfortunately."

I almost laughed.

Of all the men in New York, I had managed to arrive at a secret wedding with a billionaire.

A billionaire who apparently hadn't known he was marrying me until today.

"This is insane," I whispered.

"Agreed."

"Then we're leaving."

He glanced at the door, then back at me.

"I can't afford to walk away without understanding why this arrangement was made."

"Neither can I."

The admission slipped out before I could stop it.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

He studied me, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that he was reconsidering something.

"What exactly do you need the settlement for?" he asked.

"That's none of your business."

"Fair enough."

I hadn't expected him to back down.

He closed the folder.

"Here's my proposal. We verify the legal arrangements independently. We identify whoever brought us here, and we find out why our names were placed in the same agreement."

"And the marriage?"

"We decide after we know what we're dealing with."

I searched his face for the trick.

"What if I say no?"

"Then we walk away."

No threats. No promises. No attempt to buy my answer.

It should have made the decision easier.

Instead, I found myself wondering why a man with his resources couldn't simply hire investigators and forget the entire arrangement.

"What do you stand to lose?" I asked.

His expression hardened.

"More than you know."

Before I could press him, the door opened.

A man in a dark suit entered carrying a leather folder. He looked at Rowan first, then at me.

"Mr. Blackwood, the officiant is ready."

Rowan didn't move.

"Tell him to wait."

The man hesitated. "Sir, the paperwork has already been prepared. If we delay much longer, the private registration appointment will have to be rescheduled."

My stomach tightened.

The paperwork was ready. The officiant was waiting. Someone had arranged every detail before either of us arrived.

This wasn't a misunderstanding.

It was a plan.

Rowan looked at me.

"Emily, if we proceed, we do it with independent legal advice and clear terms. No hidden obligations. No one gets to decide your future without your consent."

I should have walked away.

But I thought of my mother's bills, the landlord's warning, and the job I'd lost that morning.

I also thought of the person who had arranged this meeting. If I left without answers, I might never learn why they had chosen me.

"I want my own lawyer," I said.

"Agreed."

"I want the settlement written clearly into the agreement."

"Agreed."

"And I won't let you control where I work, who I speak to, or what I do with my life."

Something unreadable crossed his face.

"Then don't agree to anything that says otherwise."

I looked down at the papers.

My hand was trembling.

I hated that he could see it.

"Fine," I said. "We investigate first. Then we decide."

Rowan extended his hand across the table.

I stared at it before placing mine in his.

His palm was warm. His grip was firm, but he didn't hold on longer than necessary.

For one strange second, I felt as though I'd stepped onto a road that had been waiting for me long before I knew it existed.

Then my phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

Don't marry Rowan Blackwood. Ask him what happened to Daniel Carter.

My blood turned cold.

Daniel Carter was my father.

I looked up so quickly that Rowan's expression changed.

"What is it?"

I turned the phone toward him.

He read the message.

The silence that followed was different from all the others.

His fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

And for the first time since I'd entered the room, Rowan Blackwood looked genuinely afraid.

To be continued...

Emily POV

Rowan Blackwood was hiding something.

I knew it from the way his expression changed when he read the message on my phone. The man who had barely reacted when I threatened to leave now looked as though someone had placed a loaded gun on the table.

"Who sent this?" he asked.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

He read the message again.

Don't marry Rowan Blackwood. Ask him what happened to Daniel Carter.

"My father," I said quietly. "What do you know about him?"

Rowan placed my phone on the table.

"I've seen his name in company records."

"What kind of records?"

"An old financial investigation connected to Blackwood Holdings."

My chest tightened.

"My father was accused of financial misconduct years ago. He lost his job, and people who used to respect him stopped taking his calls. We struggled for years afterward." I swallowed. "Are you telling me your family was involved?"

"I'm telling you I need to investigate before I give you an answer."

"That sounds convenient."

"I understand why you think that."

"No, Mr. Blackwood. You don't."

He fell silent.

I wanted to believe there was an innocent explanation. I also knew how quickly powerful people could turn a family's suffering into a footnote in a corporate report.

My father had spent years insisting he hadn't done what they accused him of. I had believed him, even when everyone else stopped listening.

Now I was sitting across from a billionaire whose family name had appeared in the same story.

And somehow, I was supposed to marry him.

"I'm leaving," I said.

Rowan didn't stop me.

Instead, he reached for his phone.

"Knox, come in."

The door opened almost immediately.

The man who entered looked to be in his early thirties. He wore a charcoal suit and carried himself with the calm efficiency of someone who had spent years cleaning up other people's problems.

"Sir?"

"Find out who sent this message. Preserve the original records concerning Daniel Carter. No one is to alter or remove anything from the archive."

Knox glanced at my phone.

"Understood."

"And contact independent legal counsel. Both of us need separate advice before anything proceeds."

That surprised me.

"You're actually willing to let me investigate your family?"

Rowan met my eyes.

"If my family is connected to what happened to your father, you deserve to know."

It wasn't an apology.

But it was the first answer that sounded remotely human.

I picked up my handbag.

"I'm still not agreeing to marry you."

"I haven't asked you to."

"Good."

I walked toward the door, determined not to look back.

Then Knox spoke.

"Mr. Blackwood, there's another problem."

Rowan turned.

"What is it?"

"The press."

He handed Rowan a tablet.

A photograph filled the screen.

It showed Rowan entering the hotel through a private entrance earlier that morning. Another photograph showed me arriving separately, wearing the dress I'd borrowed from a friend.

The headline beneath them made my stomach drop.

ROWAN BLACKWOOD'S SECRET BRIDE? BILLIONAIRE TYCOON CAUGHT IN MYSTERIOUS WEDDING ARRANGEMENT.

I stared at the screen.

"That's impossible. Nobody was supposed to know about this."

"Someone knew," Rowan said.

"Who?"

"That's what we're going to find out."

I scrolled down.

The article described a private ceremony scheduled for that morning. It mentioned a marriage agreement, a substantial settlement, and an unidentified woman allegedly connected to a financial scandal involving Blackwood Holdings.

My name hadn't been published yet.

But it was only a matter of time.

"They're going to find me," I whispered.

Rowan took the tablet from me.

"Not if we move quickly."

I looked at him sharply.

"I don't need you to rescue me."

"I'm not asking you to depend on me. I'm telling you that someone has deliberately exposed both of us."

"And you expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it?"

His expression hardened.

"No. I expect you to question everything until we have proof."

For some reason, that answer unsettled me more than a denial would have.

He turned to Knox.

"Get the car ready. No public entrance."

Then he looked at me.

"Emily, you have two choices. You can leave alone and hope the press doesn't discover where you live, or you can leave with us while your lawyer arranges a safer option."

I hated that he was making sense.

"I'm calling my own lawyer first."

"Of course."

"And I'm not going anywhere without telling Cathy."

"Who is Cathy?"

"My best friend. The person who will probably kill me if she discovers I've been keeping secrets from her."

For the first time, Rowan almost smiled.

"Then I suggest you call her."

I stepped aside and made the call.

Cathy answered on the second ring.

"Emily? Please tell me you have good news. Did the mysterious rich person actually show up?"

I closed my eyes.

"Yes."

"And?"

"It's complicated."

"Complicated good or complicated bad?"

I glanced at Rowan, who was already speaking quietly with Knox.

"Both."

There was a pause.

"Emily Carter, what have you done?"

"I might have accidentally agreed to marry Rowan Blackwood."

Silence.

Then Cathy screamed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear.

"You did WHAT?"

"I said might have. We haven't finished anything."

"Rowan Blackwood? The Rowan Blackwood? The billionaire who fired an entire executive team during a board meeting?"

"I don't know about that."

"Of course you don't! You spend your life pretending business news is a personal attack."

Despite everything, a laugh escaped me.

It disappeared when I noticed Rowan watching me.

Not impatiently.

Curiously.

As if he wanted to know what could make me laugh when the world was falling apart.

Cathy's voice softened.

"Listen to me. Don't sign anything you don't understand. And don't let some handsome billionaire convince you that money makes him trustworthy."

I looked at Rowan's unreadable face.

"Trust me. That's not happening."

"Good. Send me your location, and I'll meet you."

After ending the call, I turned back to Rowan.

"My lawyer will contact yours. Until then, I want every document connected to this arrangement."

"You'll have access to the relevant documents through your lawyer."

"And I want to know what you discover about my father."

"You will."

I studied him for another moment.

"Why do I get the feeling this marriage would be a terrible idea?"

"Because it probably would be."

At least he was honest about that.

Knox returned with the car keys.

"The vehicle is ready. The press is gathering outside the main entrance."

Rowan picked up the folder containing the marriage agreement.

He looked at me once more.

"We can still walk away."

I thought about my father's ruined reputation. The anonymous message. The photographs taken before either of us had made a decision.

Someone had planned this.

And if I walked away now, I might never discover why.

"Not yet," I said. "First, we find out who arranged the meeting."

Rowan nodded.

"Agreed."

We left through a private corridor and entered the elevator. Neither of us spoke during the descent.

When the doors opened in the underground garage, a black car waited beside the wall.

Rowan opened the rear door for me.

I hesitated.

"I can open my own door."

"I noticed."

I climbed inside.

He followed, leaving enough space between us that I could have sat on the opposite end of the seat.

The car pulled away.

For a few minutes, I watched Manhattan pass through the tinted window. I was trying to decide whether I'd made the biggest mistake of my life when my phone vibrated again.

This time, it was a news alert.

My photograph appeared beneath a new headline.

IDENTITY REVEALED: EMILY CARTER, DAUGHTER OF DISGRACED FINANCIAL INVESTIGATOR, LINKED TO ROWAN BLACKWOOD'S SECRET MARRIAGE.

My fingers went cold.

"They found my name."

Rowan leaned forward to read the screen.

His face changed.

"Knox," he said into the car's intercom. "Find out who released her identity. Immediately."

I scrolled through the article, my pulse pounding.

Then I saw the final paragraph.

Sources claim the marriage may be connected to a confidential agreement involving Blackwood Holdings and the late Daniel Carter.

I turned slowly toward Rowan.

"The late Daniel Carter?"

He looked at me.

"My father isn't dead."

The silence inside the car became unbearable.

Rowan took my phone and read the paragraph again.

Then he made a call.

"Knox, stop the car."

The driver pulled over.

Rowan lowered his voice.

"Someone just made a very serious mistake."

He ended the call and turned to me.

"Emily, when was the last time you spoke to your father?"

"Three days ago."

His expression went completely still.

"Then we need to find him."

To be continued...

Emily POV

By the time the elevator reached the top floor, I had decided three things.

I hated the headlines.

I hated Rowan Blackwood's silence.

And I absolutely hated the fact that I was now legally married to a man who looked as if he could fire someone simply for breathing too loudly.

The elevator doors opened.

Rowan stepped out first, his phone pressed to his ear.

"No interviews. No statements about her family. If anyone asks, the marriage is private business."

He listened for a moment.

"Then remind them what happens when they ignore my instructions."

He ended the call and glanced at me.

"Come on."

I followed him into the penthouse.

The place was enormous, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New York. The city glittered beneath us, beautiful and distant. Everything inside looked expensive enough to make me afraid of touching it.

A woman in a neat black suit stood beside the living room entrance. She held a tablet against her chest.

"Mr. Blackwood," she greeted him. Her eyes moved to me. "Mrs. Blackwood."

I almost choked.

Mrs. Blackwood.

I had known the title was coming. I had signed the documents, stood through the ceremony, and accepted the consequences.

Still, hearing it aloud made my stomach tighten.

"Knox will arrange whatever you need," Rowan said.

The woman blinked. "Knox is downstairs, sir. I can show Mrs. Blackwood to her room."

"Thank you, Flora."

Flora gave me a professional smile and gestured toward the hallway.

I didn't move.

"Before I go anywhere, we need to talk."

Rowan slipped his phone into his pocket.

"About what?"

"About the fact that I just became your wife and apparently everyone except me has already decided what that means."

His expression barely changed.

"Then let's make it clear."

"Good. Because I have rules."

For the first time since we left the ceremony, he looked genuinely interested.

"I'm listening."

I walked farther into the living room and set my handbag on a table.

"First, you don't get to control my movements. If I want to leave this penthouse, I leave."

"Within reason."

"No. That's not what I said."

His jaw tightened.

I held his gaze.

"If you want a wife who follows instructions without asking questions, you married the wrong woman."

"Second," I continued, "you don't get to decide who I speak to. My friends are still my friends. My family is still my family."

Something shifted in his eyes at the mention of family.

I noticed.

I wished I hadn't.

"Third, no pretending this marriage is real when we're alone. Whatever story we're selling to the public, I won't let you confuse it with reality."

Rowan moved closer.

"And if I do?"

My heart gave an irritating little jump.

"Then I'll remind you."

"How?"

"I haven't decided yet."

A faint smile touched his mouth.

It disappeared so quickly that I wondered whether I had imagined it.

"My turn," he said.

I folded my arms.

"Go ahead."

"Rule one: when we're in public, you don't contradict our agreed story. If a reporter asks why we married, you give the answer we've prepared."

"I can manage a sentence."

"Rule two: no sharing information about this arrangement with anyone outside our legal team without discussing it first."

"That's reasonable."

"Rule three: you don't enter my office or access company documents without permission."

I frowned.

"Was that rule written specifically for me?"

"It was written because someone has already tried to use this marriage against me."

The amusement left my face.

"You mean the headlines?"

"The headlines are only the beginning."

He said it so calmly that I almost missed the warning beneath his words.

I stepped closer.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing that changes our agreement."

"That isn't an answer."

"It's the one I have for you tonight."

I hated how easily he shut doors without moving.

I hated even more that I wanted to know what was behind them.

"Fine," I said. "But I want my own room, my own phone, and access to my money. I won't have to ask you for permission to buy a cup of coffee."

"You'll have access to your accounts."

"And I don't want a bodyguard following me everywhere."

"That isn't negotiable."

I stared at him.

"You cannot be serious."

"Someone leaked our marriage before we had a chance to control the announcement. Your father's name is now circulating in connection with it. Until we know who's behind the leak, you won't go anywhere without security."

"My father has nothing to do with your company."

"Then why did someone send you a warning about him?"

The question silenced me.

I had been trying not to think about that message.

Don't marry Rowan Blackwood. Ask him what happened to Daniel Carter.

My father's name had changed Rowan's expression when I mentioned it. He had recognized it, but he hadn't explained why.

"You said you knew his name from old company records," I reminded him. "What records?"

"I'm looking into it."

"That sounds suspiciously like something people say when they want you to stop asking questions."

"Emily."

"No. You don't get to use that tone and expect me to become quiet."

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then Rowan exhaled slowly.

"I'll give you answers when I have facts, not guesses."

It wasn't enough.

But it was the first honest thing he'd offered me all evening.

Flora returned and showed me to a bedroom at the far end of the hallway. It was spacious, with a private bathroom, a sitting area, and a wardrobe that could hold every piece of clothing I owned without filling even half of it.

I stood in the doorway.

"This is temporary," I reminded myself.

The room was too beautiful to feel like mine. Everything had been arranged before I arrived, from the fresh flowers to the neatly folded robe on the bed.

Someone had prepared for me.

That thought unsettled me more than the luxury.

After Flora left, I placed my handbag on the dresser and took out my phone.

Three missed calls from Cathy.

One message.

CATHY: Emily, please tell me you're alive. The internet says you've married Rowan Blackwood. CALL ME.

I started typing a reply when another notification appeared.

Unknown number.

My fingers went cold as I opened it.

You think moving into his house will protect you? Ask Rowan why your father's name was removed from the Blackwood investigation.

I read the message twice.

Then a third time.

My father had been alive when I spoke to him three days ago. Someone was already spreading lies about him, and now another stranger was claiming his name had been erased from an investigation.

I walked out of the bedroom.

Rowan stood in the living room, speaking quietly to someone on his phone. He looked up when he saw me.

I held out my screen.

"Do you know anything about this?"

He ended the call.

When he read the message, his expression hardened.

"Who sent it?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

He handed the phone back, but his eyes remained on the words.

For one brief moment, I saw something beneath his composure.

Not confusion.

Recognition.

"You know what happened to my father," I whispered.

Rowan looked at me.

"I know someone wanted the truth about him buried."

My chest tightened.

"Who?"

Before he could answer, his phone rang again.

He glanced at the screen.

Then his face changed.

"What is it?" I demanded.

He answered without taking his eyes off me.

"Tell me exactly what you found."

A pause.

His fingers tightened around the phone.

"Don't touch anything. I'm coming."

He ended the call.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Someone accessed a restricted Blackwood Holdings file connected to your father."

"And?"

Rowan looked toward the dark windows.

"The access came from inside my office."

My blood ran cold.

Because if someone inside Rowan's office was searching for my father, then moving into this penthouse might not have brought me closer to the truth.

It might have placed me directly in the path of whoever wanted it destroyed.