Contract bride

Alara POV The rooftop glittered like a scene stolen from a billionaire's dream. String lights glowed golden across sheer white drapes. A glass DJ booth pulsed to the beat of luxury. Ice sculptures, gold-dusted hors d'oeuvres, and waiters in white gloves moved like shadows across marble floors. I stood at the edge of it all, cradling a drink I couldn't pronounce in a dress I couldn't afford. "I shouldn't be here," I muttered under my breath. "You say that every time we crash Clarke's parties," Percy said with a grin, popping a strawberry into her mouth. "And yet, here you are.

Serving face in velvet." I tugged at the hem of the burgundy gown Clarke had insisted I wear. The fabric clung to my waist and hips like it had been sewn by a goddess, flowing into a quiet train stitched with golden lilies. "You did borrow everything," Percy added with a wink. "But you're a broke beauty with a face and body that eats runways. Own it, girl. I mean it-people would commit crimes for that waistline." I snorted softly, but the sound didn't quite reach my eyes. Because she was right. I was broke. Beautiful, maybe-but still broke. And this glittering rooftop wasn't mine. I wasn't from Clarke's world. I was from long nights at the coffee shop, calluses from taking extra shifts, and bruised hope. I had a dying mother in a charity hospital, a sixteen-year-old sister who depended on me for everything, and a runaway father who hadn't looked back in years. But Clarke had insisted I come. She was celebrating her 21st in style-backless rose-gold dress, senator father in tow, the whole elite crowd orbiting her like she held the moon. It was her night. The city practically knew it. So I smiled. Pretended I wasn't panicking. And turned toward the skyline, letting the breeze slap a little clarity into my face. That's when I felt it. A chill-slow, creeping-gliding across my neck. Not wind. A stare. I looked up. High above, behind sheer black curtains on the private balcony, a man stood alone. Tall. Still. Unmoving. And watching me. My heart dropped into my heels. He wasn't just good-looking. He was unfairly, ruinously handsome. Sculpted in that sharp, old-world way that made your breath catch before your brain could function. His suit was pitch black. Fitted like it had been stitched to his sins. A crystal tumbler sat in his hand. And his eyes-storm-grey and knife-sharp-locked onto mine like he already knew my name. Why did he look so familiar? And more importantly, why was he watching me? He didn't smile. Didn't blink. Just raised his glass in a lazy salute. A single slow smirk ghosted his lips, sharp as his cheekbones. "Alara?" Percy nudged my side. "You okay?" I didn't look away. "Who's that man?" Percy turned to follow my gaze. "Oh... damn. That's Ace Wolfe." I blinked. "The Ace Wolfe?" "Mmhmm," she said, lowering her voice. "Heir to Wolfe Empire. Old money. Tech, fashion, media-he basically owns half the modern world. Clarke said he only came because her dad begged. Rumor is, he hates parties." Of course. A senator's party was exactly the kind of place someone like him would grace with silence. I turned back to look at the balcony. But he was gone. Just like that. Gone-but the weight of his stare still clung to my skin like silk. ⸻ The rooftop came alive again. Laughter, glasses clinking, camera flashes like fireflies. Clarke was dancing now, glitter caught in her hair, twirling through her birthday like a socialite in a Vogue spread. I tried to breathe. But I could still feel him. I slipped away toward the quieter hallway near the elevators, heart still hammering. The music dimmed to a muffled hum. Gold sconces lined the walls. Velvet carpet. Everything still sparkled. And then... He was there. Leaning casually against a marble column, as if he'd stepped straight out of a billionaire fever dream. Ace Wolfe. Closer now, he was even more dangerous. His height, his presence-everything about him felt too deliberate. Like a man used to being obeyed. I froze. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, voice smooth and rich like dark bourbon. "I needed air," I replied, lifting my chin. "I watched you all night." My eyebrows shot up. "That's not creepy at all." He didn't smile. "I don't say things to flatter. You're not like them." "Let me guess," I said, folding my arms, "I 'don't belong here'?" He stepped closer. The air grew heavy. "I didn't mean it as an insult," he said. "Just an observation. One I rarely get wrong." I forced a laugh. "Right. So what? You just observe and make judgments from balconies now?" "I don't judge," he said slowly. "I choose." I tilted my head. "Do all your conversations sound like Bond villains flirting?" That earned me the faintest twitch of a smirk. "I make very good offers." My breath caught. "What kind of offer?" Before he could answer, a sharp voice interrupted. "Mr. Wolfe," a suited man said as he approached quickly-one of his bodyguards, earpiece glinting. "It's urgent." Ace's jaw tensed. He looked back at me. "Give me your number." The command in his tone startled me. Not demanding. Just... inevitable. I hesitated for a beat-then gave it to him. He didn't say another word. Just turned away and walked down the corridor, his bodyguard falling in behind him like a shadow. I stood there frozen, still tasting the tension he left behind. What the hell just happened? My phone buzzed a moment later. A new message. Unknown Number: We're not done. – A.

Alara Grey – POV

The bell above the café door jingled lazily. Morning sun filtered through the glass, casting long golden streaks across the floor, and the espresso machine groaned behind me like it was also tired of pretending everything was okay. I wiped my hands on my apron and glanced at the growing line. Another day, another double shift. "Alara!" Percy hissed from the front. "Package for you." I frowned. "I'm not expecting anything." She raised a brow and motioned toward the counter, where a delivery man in a black suit placed a pristine white box-tied with a silk ribbon-on the polished surface. "No note?" I asked cautiously. The man only nodded once, turned, and left. Percy leaned in. "Are we about to get murdered or married?" I swallowed hard and untied the ribbon with shaking fingers. Inside, nestled in pale cream tissue paper, was a handbag. But not just any handbag. A Birkin. I nearly dropped it. "Is that-?" Percy choked. "Is that the crocodile-skin Hermès Birkin?! The ten-million-dollar one?" I stared at it like it might explode. The leather gleamed. The gold hardware shimmered under the café lights. It looked too elegant to belong anywhere near cracked countertops and pastry crumbs. My voice came out flat. "I can't keep this." Percy reached for the bag, reverently holding it like a holy artifact. "Are you sure? You could feed a country with this thing." I didn't respond. Because I already knew who it was from. I didn't need a name tag or a note. Ace Wolfe. The man with storm-grey eyes. The billionaire who looked at me like I was a puzzle only he could solve. But why would he send this? Why me? I didn't have long to think about it. My phone buzzed in my apron pocket. Unknown number. I hesitated, then answered. "Did you receive the package?" The voice was unmistakable. Smooth. Controlled. A bit arrogant, like every word he spoke was law. "You didn't even leave a note," I said evenly. "Anonymous ten-million-dollar gifts are a bit... dramatic." He didn't laugh. "Would you have accepted it if I had?" "No," I replied. "And I still don't." A beat passed. Then he said, "Would you like to come and return it in person?" I paused. "Where are you?" His reply came like a dare. "My office. Fifth Avenue. Wolfe Tower. You can't miss it." I swallowed. "I'll come." "I'll send the car." The line clicked off before I could change my mind. ⸻ Ten minutes later, a black Benz Maybach pulled up in front of the café. Percy nearly fainted. "Girl," she whispered, peeking out the window, "you are not just broke and pretty anymore. You are main character energy right now." I grabbed the Birkin, still wrapped like treasure, and gave her a look. "I'm just returning it." "To your billionaire stalker," she said, eyes wide. "God, I hope he's shirtless when you get there." "Percy!" "Sorry! Manifesting." ⸻ Wolfe Tower looked like something pulled out of a futuristic skyline. All glass and steel, sharp edges, power in every inch. Even the air smelled different-like success and impossible money. The kind of building where people wore watches worth more than my entire life savings. A uniformed attendant opened the door. "Miss Grey, please follow me." The elevator soared like a spaceship to the top floor. And then- The doors opened to luxury. A minimalist, stunning office stretched in cool white marble and sleek black leather. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city like it belonged to him. Which, maybe, it did. Ace Wolfe stood by the window, dressed in a dark charcoal suit, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the skyline. He didn't turn until I stepped inside. "Miss Grey." "Wolfe," I answered coolly, lifting the Birkin and placing it on the table. "I'm here to return your gift. I'm not for sale." His mouth twitched, just barely. "Pity. You looked good with it." "I'm serious." "So am I." He walked toward me, slow and deliberate. "But the bag wasn't the real offer." My pulse thudded. "Then what is?" He reached for a black folder sitting on the polished desk. Opened it. Slid a thick document toward me. "You need money." I stiffened. "Excuse me?" "Your mother. The hospital bills. Your sister. You've been drowning since last year. Working overtime. Selling things. I do my research." I hated how calm he sounded. Like he wasn't casually exposing all my wounds. "I'm offering a solution." I stared at the paper. A marriage contract. "You're out of your mind." "I'm pragmatic," he said. "You get financial security. Your family gets help. And I get an heir." I blinked. "A child?" He nodded. "Within three months. That's the condition." I laughed, but it came out breathless. "So I'm what? Your breeding project?" He studied me. "You're the only woman I've looked at in a long time and thought-maybe." I felt fire crawl up my neck. "This isn't love," I whispered. "No," he said. "This is a transaction." "And what if I say no?" His eyes darkened. "Then someone else will say yes." I didn't touch the folder. Didn't look at the terms. But I didn't walk away either. Because for the first time... there was a way out. And I didn't know if I was strong enough to walk away from it.

Ace Wolfe – POV

She didn't even flinch. Didn't cry. Didn't hesitate. Just squared her shoulders, locked those defiant eyes on me, and said- "You need an heir? Find someone else to breed your dynasty, Mr. Wolfe. I'm not for sale-not even in crocodile leather." Then she turned on her heel-velvet dress swaying like defiance wrapped in silk-and walked right out of my office. No begging. No questions. Just fire in her eyes. I should've let her go. But I didn't. Because the second the door clicked shut behind her, I was already replaying last night. The rooftop party. The flash of gold lights on her skin. The way she looked over her shoulder like she felt me watching before she even saw me. I hadn't planned on noticing anyone that night. Hell, I hadn't even wanted to attend. Clark Maddox's father had called in a favor-one of the very few people I still owed something to. A campaign donation. A long-forgotten deal. Whatever it was, I owed him enough to show up. That was it. One drink, a few fake smiles, and I'd be gone. And then I saw her. Alara Grey. In a velvet dress too tight for comfort and too perfect to forget. Standing alone like she didn't belong, and yet somehow stealing the entire skyline's attention. She didn't know the power she held. Not yet. But I did. And now-she was in my head. Uncooperative. Unbending. Undeniably... tempting. She said no. Which only made me want her more. ⸻ Alara Grey – POV The coffee shop was quieter than usual-late afternoon light spilling through the windows, casting gold over the pastries in the case. Percy was in the back taking inventory, which gave me a moment to pretend I was fine. But I wasn't. Ace Wolfe offered me marriage. And a baby. And money I desperately needed. And I walked away. I didn't know if that made me strong... or stupid. I was still replaying every second in that glass fortress of his when the bell above the door jingled. Clark Maddox swept in like the world was a runway and she was the finale. Her coat was designer. Her hair in a silk ribbon. And she carried an energy that made heads turn when she walked. "Tell me you've been keeping secrets," she said, sliding into the stool across from me. "Because I just heard something insane from my driver's girlfriend's cousin." I blinked. "That's... oddly specific." She leaned in. "Is it true you were seen getting out of a Wolfe Empire Benz?" I bit my bottom lip. "Okay, yes. But it's not what you think." Clark's eyes doubled in size. "You know Ace Wolfe?" "Not know him. More like... had a strange conversation with him. Twice." "Twice?! Bitch, that man is the city's most elusive bachelor. He makes CEOs cry and models beg. He hasn't been seen in public with a woman since Eve." I stilled. "Eve?" Clark nodded. "Eve Montgomery. My cousin. You've probably seen her-supermodel, Vogue cover, leggy and lethal. She and Ace dated a while back. No one really knows what ended it, but... it got ugly." I swallowed. So that was her. The woman who once had his attention. Clark narrowed her eyes, suddenly more serious. "Why did you meet with him?" I looked down. "He made me an offer." "What kind of offer?" I hesitated. Clark was my best friend, but saying it aloud would make it real. And I wasn't ready for that. "Something I turned down," I whispered. "But I'm not sure for how long." She reached across the counter and squeezed my hand. "You're not a girl who sells her soul," she said. "No matter how expensive the devil's suit is." I smiled softly. "You make that sound noble." She grinned. "Dramatic's kind of my thing." But even as I laughed... my chest tightened. Because I wasn't sure how many more choices I had left. And I had a feeling Ace Wolfe wasn't finished with me yet.