BOUGHT BY THE BILLIONAIRE

The rain was coming down like God was personally angry at the world, and I was already twenty minutes late for my second job.

Come on, come on, I muttered, gripping the steering wheel of my beat-up Honda as it coughed and wheezed through the upscale downtown district. The engine made that terrible grinding sound again,the one that meant I'd be eating ramen noodles for another month just to keep this piece of junk running.

But I couldn't think about that now. Mrs. Patterson from the cleaning service had already warned me twice about punctuality. One more strike and I'd lose the only job that paid enough to cover Mom's medication this month.

My phone buzzed with a text, and I glanced down for just a second just one second to see if it was the hospital.

Your mother's treatment has been moved to tomorrow. Please confirm.

Relief and panic hit me at the same time. Relief that Mom was stable enough to postpone. Panic because postponing meant another day of pain for her, another day I couldn't afford.

I looked up just in time to see the massive black Bentley.

Time slowed down like in those movies where everything goes wrong in beautiful, terrifying detail. I yanked the wheel hard to the right, my tires screaming against the wet asphalt, but there was nowhere to go. The sound of metal crushing metal filled the air, and my airbag exploded into my face.

When the world stopped spinning, I was sitting in my crumpled car, staring at the back of the most expensive vehicle I'd ever seen up close. Steam was rising from my hood, and I could already hear the death rattle that meant my Honda had finally given up completely.

No, no, no,I whispered, my hands shaking as I tried to turn the key. Nothing. Not even a whimper.

Through the rain, I watched the driver's door of the Bentley open. A man stepped out-tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that probably cost more than I made in six months. Even from behind, everything about him screamed power and money.

When he turned around, my breath caught in my throat.

He was beautiful in that dangerous, untouchable way that should come with warning labels. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and eyes so blue they looked almost unreal in the gray afternoon light. But it wasn't his looks that made my stomach drop,it was the cold fury in his expression as he surveyed the damage to his car.

And then those eyes found mine.

I forced myself to get out of my car, my legs wobbling like a newborn deer. I'm so sorry,I called out, my voice barely audible over the rain. I didn't see you in time, and....

Do you have any idea,he said, his voice low and controlled in a way that was somehow more terrifying than yelling, what you've just done?

I looked at his car. There was barely a scratch on the bumper. My Honda, on the other hand, looked like it had been through a blender.

I know it looks bad, but I have insurance, I lied. Well, partially lied. I had insurance the absolute minimum required by law, which would probably cover about fifty dollars of whatever this was going to cost.

He stepped closer, and I caught the scent of expensive cologne and something else, something that made my stupid heart race despite the fact that this man was clearly about to ruin my life.

This car, he said, running one finger along the barely-visible mark on his bumper, is a limited edition Bentley Mulsanne. There are only twelve of them in existence."

Oh God. Oh no.

The paint alone, he continued, those blue eyes never leaving mine, will cost more than most people make in a year.

My knees literally went weak. I put a hand on my crumpled hood to steady myself. How... How much are we talking about?

Fifty thousand dollars. Minimum.

The world tilted. Fifty thousand dollars. I didn't have fifty thousand cents to my name, let alone dollars. I had exactly thirty-seven dollars in my checking account and a credit card that was maxed out paying for Mom's last ER visit.

I... I can't...The words stuck in my throat. I couldn't breathe. This was it. This was how my life ended drowning in debt to some rich asshole over a scratch I could barely see.

You can't do what? His voice was dangerously soft.

I don't have that kind of money, I whispered. I don't have any money.

Something shifted in his expression. His eyes moved over my worn jeans, my cheap rain jacket, my scuffed sneakers taking inventory of my obvious poverty.

What's your name? he asked suddenly.

Aria. Aria Thompson.

Well, Aria Thompson, he said, and the way he said my name made something flutter in my chest despite everything. It seems we have a problem.

A black SUV pulled up behind us, and two men in dark suits got out. The taller one approached us with an umbrella, holding it over the stranger's head without a word.

Mr. Knight, the man said, shall I call the police?

Mr. Knight. Even his name sounded expensive.

That won't be necessary, Marcus, he said, never taking his eyes off me. Ms. Thompson and I are going to work something out. Aren't we, Aria?

The way he said it made my skin prickle. There was something predatory in his tone, something that suggested he was used to getting exactly what he wanted.

I don't understand, I said.

He smiled then, but it wasn't a nice smile. It was the smile of a man who had just thought of something very interesting.

You're going to pay me back every penny,he said. One way or another.

But I told you, I don't have

Oh, you'll find a way. He pulled out his phone and handed it to Marcus, who immediately started taking pictures of both cars, the damage, and me standing there like a drowned rat. You see, Aria, I'm a problem solver. And I think I know exactly how you can work off your debt.

The rain was getting harder, but I barely felt it. All I could focus on was the way he was looking at me like he was seeing something I couldn't see yet.

What do you mean? I asked, even though part of me didn't want to know the answer.

It's simple,he said, stepping close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. You're going to work for me.

Work for you how?

His smile widened, and I realized I had just walked into a trap I didn't even know existed.

Congratulations, Aria Thompson, he said. You just became the most expensive wife I've ever bought.

Before I could even process what he'd said, he was walking back to his car. Marcus handed me a business card that was still dry despite the downpour.

Damien Knight, CEO, Knight Industries

At the address tomorrow morning at nine AM sharp,Damien called over his shoulder. Wear something that doesn't look like you found it in a dumpster. We have a wedding to plan.

And then he was gone, leaving me standing in the rain with a dead car, a business card, and the strangest feeling that my life had just taken a turn into completely uncharted territory.

I looked down at the card in my shaking hands.

Wife?

What the hell had I just gotten myself into?

End of Chapter 1

Will Aria really become Damien's contract wife? What does this powerful billionaire really want from her? Keep reading to find out....

I didn't sleep.

How could I sleep when a complete stranger had just told me I was going to be his wife? I spent the entire night pacing around my tiny studio apartment, staring at that business card like it might suddenly make sense.

Damien Knight, CEO, Knight Industries.

I'd Googled him, of course. What I found made my stomach drop even further. The man was worth billions with a B. His company owned half the skyscrapers in the city. He was on the cover of Forbes magazine last month with the headline Most Ruthless CEO Under 35.

And somehow, I was supposed to show up at his office wearing something that didn't look like I found it in a dumpster.

The problem was, most of my clothes actually did look like I found them in a dumpster.

I stood in front of my closet at eight fifteen in the morning, holding the only decent thing I owned, a black dress I'd bought for job interviews two years ago. It was simple, maybe a little too big now since I'd lost weight from skipping meals, but it was clean and didn't have any holes.

It would have to do.

The address on his business card led me to the tallest building downtown, the one with Knight Industries written in silver letters across the top. I'd walked past this building a hundred times, never imagining I'd actually go inside.

The lobby was all marble and glass, with security guards who looked like they could bench press my entire apartment. I walked up to the reception desk, my shoes squeaking embarrassingly on the polished floor.

I'm here to see Damien Knight, I said to the woman behind the desk. She was beautiful in that expensive way, with perfect hair and makeup that probably cost more than my rent.

Do you have an appointment? she asked, looking at me like I was something unpleasant she'd stepped in.

I... he told me to be here at nine.

She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Your name?

Aria Thompson.

She typed something into her computer, and her expression shifted from dismissive to shocked. Mr. Knight is expecting you. Take the private elevator to the top floor.

She pointed to a set of gold elevators I hadn't even noticed. Private elevator. Of course.

The ride to the top floor felt like it took forever. When the doors finally opened, I stepped into what looked more like a luxury hotel than an office. Everything was sleek and modern, from the glass walls to the leather furniture that probably cost more than I made in a year.

Ms. Thompson, a voice said behind me.

I turned to see the man from yesterday, Marcus, standing there in another expensive suit. He looked just as intimidating in daylight as he had in the rain.

Mr. Knight is waiting for you in his office.

He led me down a hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. I tried not to gawk, but it was impossible. This was how rich people lived, up in the clouds, looking down at the rest of us.

Marcus stopped in front of a set of double doors and knocked once.

Come in, came Damien's voice from inside.

The office was massive, bigger than my entire apartment. One wall was completely glass, offering a panoramic view of the city. The other walls were lined with expensive art and awards. And behind a desk that looked like it could double as a small aircraft carrier sat Damien Knight.

He looked even more intimidating in his natural habitat. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit that fit him like it had been painted on, and when he looked up from whatever he was reading, those blue eyes hit me with the same intensity as yesterday.

You're on time, he said, checking his watch. I wasn't sure you'd show up.

I don't have much choice, do I? I managed to say.

He smiled, and this time it actually looked genuine. Smart girl. Sit down.

I sat in one of the leather chairs across from his desk, trying not to think about how much it probably cost.

Let me explain how this is going to work, he said, setting down his papers and giving me his full attention. You owe me fifty thousand dollars for damages to my car. You don't have fifty thousand dollars. But I have a problem you can solve.

What kind of problem?

He stood up and walked around his desk, perching on the edge of it directly in front of me. This close, I could smell his cologne again, and it was doing things to my concentration that I really couldn't afford.

My grandfather left me his company when he died, but there was a condition in his will. I have to be married by my thirty-first birthday, or control of Knight Industries goes to my cousin Bradley.

And?

And my thirty-first birthday is in six weeks.

I stared at him. So get married. I'm sure there are plenty of women who would love to marry a billionaire.

His expression darkened. I don't want a real wife. I want a business arrangement. Someone who won't get ideas about love and happily ever after. Someone who needs the money enough to keep their mouth shut about the details.

Someone like me.

Someone exactly like you, he confirmed. You're desperate, you're in debt, and you have absolutely nothing to gain by making this complicated.

I should have been insulted. Instead, I found myself considering it. Fifty thousand dollars would pay off Mom's medical bills and then some. It would mean she could get the treatment she needed without me having to choose between her medication and keeping the lights on.

What exactly would I have to do? I asked.

Simple. We get married, you attend a few public events with me to make it look legitimate, and after a year, we get divorced. You walk away with your debt paid off plus a generous settlement.

How generous?

Two hundred thousand dollars.

I nearly fell out of my chair. Two hundred thousand dollars was more money than I'd ever dreamed of having. It was enough to take care of Mom, maybe even go back to school.

But it was also crazy.

You're insane, I said. You don't even know me.

I know enough. You're twenty-three, you work three jobs to pay for your mother's cancer treatment, and you haven't had a real relationship in two years because you don't have time for one.

I stared at him. How do you...

I had you investigated, he said casually, like it was perfectly normal to have someone's entire life researched overnight. You're perfect for what I need, Aria. You're pretty enough to be believable as my wife, but not so beautiful that people will ask too many questions about why you married me. You're desperate enough to keep our arrangement quiet, and you're smart enough to handle the social obligations that come with being Mrs. Knight.

Mrs. Knight. The words sent a strange shiver through me.

This is crazy, I repeated.

Maybe. But it's also practical. You get the money you need to save your mother, and I get to keep the company my grandfather built. Everyone wins.

Except that we'd be lying to everyone.

Welcome to high society, he said with a dry smile. Half the marriages in my social circle are business arrangements. The only difference is we're being honest about it upfront.

I looked around his office, at the luxury that surrounded him, at the view that stretched out beyond the windows. This man lived in a completely different world than I did, a world of private jets and designer suits and cars that cost more than houses.

And he was offering to let me into that world, even if it was just pretend.

I need to think about it, I said finally.

You have until this afternoon. He walked back around his desk and sat down, already reaching for his papers like the conversation was over. If you decide yes, we'll go shopping for a ring. If you decide no, I'll expect the first payment on your debt by the end of the week.

He looked up at me with those impossibly blue eyes. The choice is yours, Aria. But choose quickly. Time is money, and I don't like wasting either.

Marcus appeared at my elbow, ready to escort me out. I stood on shaky legs, still trying to process everything that had just happened.

One more thing, Damien called as I reached the door. If you say yes, there will be rules. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. I'm not interested in playing house or pretending to be in love. You'll get your own room, your own space, and we'll interact only when necessary for appearances.

Got it?

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Good. I'll expect your answer by three o'clock.

And with that, I was dismissed, left to wander back out into the real world with the most insane decision of my life weighing on my shoulders.

Marriage to a billionaire who saw me as nothing more than a business transaction.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

My mother's life hangs in the balance.

What was I supposed to do?

End of Chapter 2

I sat in a coffee shop three blocks away from Knight Industries, staring at a cup of coffee I couldn't afford but desperately needed. My hands were still shaking from the conversation with Damien, and I couldn't stop replaying his words in my head.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

Marriage to a stranger.

One year of my life.

The rational part of my brain was screaming that this was insane. You don't marry someone you just met, especially not someone who clearly saw you as nothing more than a business transaction. But the desperate part of my brain, the part that had watched my mother get sicker while I scrambled to pay for treatments we couldn't afford, was doing the math.

Two hundred thousand dollars would cover all of Mom's medical bills. It would pay for the experimental treatment her doctor mentioned but said was too expensive to consider. It would mean she could focus on getting better instead of worrying about money.

It would save her life.

My phone rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Mom's name flashed on the screen.

Hi honey, her voice was weak but warm when I answered. How did the job interview go?

I'd lied to her about where I was going this morning, telling her I had an interview for a better paying position. In a way, I suppose I did.

It went well, I said, hating myself for the half-truth. They said they'd let me know soon.

That's wonderful, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you for never giving up.

The guilt hit me like a punch to the stomach. Here she was, proud of me for lying to her about marrying a stranger for money.

How are you feeling today? I asked, desperate to change the subject.

Oh, you know. Some days are better than others. Dr. Martinez wants to try a different medication, but the insurance company is being difficult again.

Mom, about the money...

Don't you worry about that, she said firmly. That's not your responsibility. You're twenty-three years old, Aria. You should be thinking about your own future, not taking care of your sick mother.

But that was exactly the problem. I couldn't think about my own future when hers was so uncertain. And now Damien Knight was offering me a way to secure both.

I love you, Mom, I said.

I love you too, baby. Now get back to work and stop worrying about me.

After she hung up, I sat there for another hour, watching people walk by the window. Normal people with normal problems. People who didn't have to choose between marrying a billionaire stranger or watching their mother die.

By two thirty, I knew what I had to do.

I walked back to Knight Industries with my head held high, trying to project confidence I didn't feel. The same receptionist from this morning looked surprised to see me again.

Mr. Knight is in a meeting, she said when I asked to see him.

Tell him Aria Thompson is here with her answer.

Five minutes later, I was back in that private elevator, heading up to face my fate.

This time, Damien wasn't alone in his office. There was another man there, older, wearing a suit that screamed expensive lawyer.

Aria, Damien said, standing up when I entered. I wasn't sure you'd be back.

I've made my decision, I said, proud that my voice didn't shake.

And?

I looked at the lawyer, then back at Damien. Yes. I'll do it.

Something flickered in Damien's eyes, satisfaction maybe, or relief. He nodded to the other man.

Excellent. This is my lawyer, Robert Sterling. He's prepared the contract.

Robert opened a briefcase and pulled out a thick stack of papers. Everything is standard, he said in a voice that was probably charged by the word. Marriage duration of one year, financial terms as discussed, confidentiality clauses, and dissolution procedures.

I stared at the contract. This was really happening.

You'll want to read through everything carefully, Robert continued, but let me highlight the key points. You'll receive an initial payment of fifty thousand dollars upon signing the marriage certificate to cover your existing debt. The remaining one hundred fifty thousand will be paid in monthly installments throughout the year, with a final payment upon divorce completion.

What about living arrangements? I asked.

You'll move into my penthouse, Damien said. Separate wing, private entrance if you prefer. We'll need to appear to be living together for the arrangement to be believable.

And what exactly will I need to do? I mean, besides just being married to you?

Attend social events with me, appear at business functions, maybe a charity gala or two. Nothing too complicated. Just smile, look pretty, and let people think you're madly in love with me.

The way he said it made something twist in my stomach. Like it would be such an impossible thing to believe.

What about dating? I asked. I mean, what if I meet someone...

You won't, he said flatly. The contract includes an exclusivity clause. No romantic relationships for the duration of our marriage. For either of us.

So you won't be dating anyone either?

Something dark flashed across his face. I don't date Aria. I have arrangements. And those arrangements will be suspended while we're married.

I didn't want to think too hard about what arrangements meant.

Any other questions? Robert asked.

I looked through the contract, trying to focus on the legal language, but it might as well have been written in a foreign language. All I could see were the numbers. Fifty thousand immediately. One hundred fifty thousand over the course of the year.

Enough to save Mom.

Where do I sign?

Robert showed me where to initial and sign, walking me through each section. When I was finished, Damien signed as well, his signature bold and confident.

Congratulations, Robert said, packing up his papers. You're now engaged to be married.

Engaged. The word felt strange and terrifying.

We'll need to go shopping, Damien said, checking his watch. If you're going to be Mrs. Knight, you'll need to look the part. And we'll need an engagement ring that's believable.

Right now?

Right now. Marcus is bringing the car around.

I looked down at my simple black dress, feeling completely out of my depth. I've never... I don't know anything about expensive clothes or jewelry.

That's what personal shoppers are for, he said. Don't worry, Aria. By the time I'm done with you, no one will question why Damien Knight fell for a girl like you.

A girl like me. The words stung, even though they probably weren't meant to.

One more thing, he said as we headed for the door. We'll need a story about how we met. Something romantic and believable.

What do you suggest?

He paused, thinking. We met at a charity auction. You were there volunteering, I was there donating. Love at first sight, whirlwind romance, couldn't wait to make you mine.

That's quite a story.

The best lies contain elements of truth, he said. You do volunteer work, don't you?

Sometimes. When I have time between jobs.

Perfect. And I do attend charity auctions. It's not entirely fabricated.

The elevator doors opened, and Marcus was waiting with another man in a suit.

This is James, my head of security, Damien said. He'll be coordinating your protection detail.

Protection detail?

You're about to become very visible, Aria. Mrs. Damien Knight will attract attention, not all of it welcome. James will make sure you're safe.

I hadn't thought about that. About photographers and gossip columns and people wanting to know everything about the mystery woman who captured the city's most eligible bachelor.

This is really happening, I said, more to myself than to anyone else.

Damien looked at me with those impossible blue eyes. Having second thoughts?

I thought about Mom, about the hope in her voice when she talked about the new treatment, about all the nights I'd lain awake wondering how I was going to keep her alive.

No, I said firmly. No second thoughts.

Good, he said, and for just a moment, his expression softened slightly. Because once we announce our engagement, there's no going back. The whole world will be watching.

As we stepped into the elevator that would take us down to the waiting car, I caught my reflection in the polished gold doors. In a few hours, I would be wearing clothes that cost more than I made in months, sporting an engagement ring worth more than most people's houses, and preparing to lie to the entire world about being in love with a man who saw me as a business arrangement.

But Mom would live.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

The elevator doors closed, carrying me toward a life I never could have imagined.

Mrs. Aria Knight.

It had a nice ring to it.

End of Chapter 3