My Accidental Marriage to the Billionaire CEO

The last thing I expected at a billionaire's engagement party was to become his bride.

My name is Ella Scott, 22, broke college senior, and tonight I was not a guest. I was the girl in the cheap black uniform holding a tray of champagne that cost more than my entire semester's tuition.

"Don't spill, don't speak, don't breathe too loud," my manager had hissed.

I was doing great. Until he turned around.

Alexander Knight.

CEO of Knight Global. 28. The kind of handsome that made magazines sell out. Cold grey eyes, jawline that could cut glass, and a reputation for destroying anyone who wasted his time.

And I had just poured an entire glass of 1989 Cabernet all over his custom white Tom Ford shirt and, worse, all over the million-dollar contract on the table in front of him.

The whole ballroom went silent.

"Oh my God!" I gasped, grabbing napkins with shaking hands. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry-"

He didn't move. He just looked down at the red stain spreading across his chest, then at me. His voice was low, deadly calm.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

Tears burned my eyes. "Please, it was an accident, I'll-"

"You'll what?" He stepped closer, and I could smell his expensive cologne mixed with wine. "That contract was worth ten million dollars. Can you pay for it, Miss...?"

"Scott. Ella Scott," I whispered. "No, I can't."

He studied me for a second, and something dangerous flashed in his eyes.

"My fiancée just left me for my business partner. In front of everyone. My family is watching. The press is watching. I need a wife in the next ten minutes or I lose my inheritance."

I froze. "What?"

"You spilled wine on me, ruined my deal, and embarrassed me. So now you will fix it."

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket - the same box his ex-fiancée had just thrown back at him.

"Marry me for 90 days," he said. "Be my wife. Convince my family, convince the board, and after 90 days, I will give you $100,000 and pay for your college debt. Refuse, and I will sue you and this catering company for the ten million you just destroyed."

My heart was hammering so loud I was sure everyone could hear it.

"You're insane!"

"I'm a businessman. I'm offering you a deal. The only one you'll get."

Behind him, I saw his mother walking towards us, smiling. Cameras were flashing.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear, his lips almost touching my skin, "Smile, my accidental wife. You're about to become Mrs. Alexander Knight."

And before I could say no, he slid the cold diamond ring onto my trembling finger.The Wine That Cost Me a Husband

The last thing I expected at a billionaire's engagement party was to become his bride.

My name is Ella Scott, 22, broke college senior, and tonight I was not a guest. I was the girl in the cheap black uniform holding a tray of champagne that cost more than my entire semester's tuition. My rent was due in three days, my scholarship was on hold, and this catering job was the only thing keeping me from being evicted.

"Don't spill, don't speak, don't breathe too loud," my manager had hissed before I entered the ballroom.

The ballroom at the Knight Tower was insane. Crystal chandeliers, billionaires in suits, women in gowns that cost more than a car. And at the center of it all, him.

Alexander Knight.

CEO of Knight Global. 28. The kind of handsome that made magazines sell out. Cold grey eyes, jawline that could cut glass, tall, powerful, and a reputation for destroying anyone who wasted his time. He was supposed to be getting engaged tonight to Victoria Hale, the supermodel.

I was doing great. I was invisible. Until he turned around.

I turned with my tray at the same second he stepped back to shake someone's hand.

The collision was slow motion. The champagne glass tipped. The dark red 1989 Cabernet flew in an arc and landed - all over his custom white Tom Ford shirt and, worse, all over the open million-dollar contract on the table in front of him. The papers turned red instantly.

The whole ballroom went silent. A hundred heads turned.

"Oh my God!" I gasped, my hands shaking violently as I grabbed napkins. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

He didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just looked down at the red stain spreading across his chest, then slowly, his cold grey eyes lifted to me. His voice was low, deadly calm, but everyone could hear it.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

Tears burned my eyes. My job was gone. My life was over. "Please, it was an accident, I'll clean it, I'll-"

"You'll what?" He stepped closer, and I could smell his expensive cologne mixed with wine. He was so close I had to crane my neck to look at him. "That contract was worth ten million dollars. The ink is ruined. The signatures are ruined. Can you pay for it, Miss...?"

"Scott. Ella Scott," I whispered, my voice breaking. "No, I can't. I can't even pay my rent."

He studied me for a second, his eyes dropping to my cheap shoes, my trembling hands, my terrified face. And then something dangerous, something calculating flashed in his eyes.

He leaned down, so close only I could hear him. "My fiancée just left me for my business partner. In front of everyone. Ten minutes ago. My family is watching. The press is watching. My grandfather's will says if I am not married by 30, I lose my entire inheritance and the company."

I froze. "What does that have to do with me?"

"You spilled wine on me, ruined my deal, and embarrassed me. So now you will fix it."

My mouth fell open. "How?"

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket - the same box his ex-fiancée had just thrown back at him on the stage. He opened it. A huge, cold diamond ring glittered inside.

"Marry me for 90 days," he said. His voice was not asking. It was commanding. "Be my wife. Convince my family, convince the board, play the perfect loving wife. And after 90 days, I will give you $100,000 in cash and pay for all your college debt. You will be free."

"And if I say no?"

"Refuse, and I will sue you and this catering company for the ten million dollars you just destroyed. You will never work in this city again, and you will spend the rest of your life in debt."

My heart was hammering so loud I was sure everyone could hear it. A hundred thousand dollars? That would save my life. But marry a stranger? A cold, arrogant billionaire who looked at me like I was trash?

"You're insane!"

"I'm a businessman. I'm offering you a deal. The only one you'll get in your miserable life."

Behind him, I saw his mother, an elegant older woman in diamonds, walking towards us with a worried smile. Cameras were flashing from the press wall. They were coming closer.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear, his lips almost touching my skin, sending a shiver down my spine I hated. "Smile, my accidental wife. You're about to become Mrs. Alexander Knight. Ten, nine..."

He was counting. He was actually counting down.

"Eight..."

His mother was almost here.

"Smile for your husband, Ella."

And before I could say no, before I could run, he took my shaking left hand and slid the cold, heavy diamond ring onto my trembling finger. It fit perfectly.

It was a perfect trap.

"Sign it."

Alexander's penthouse was nothing like I had ever seen. Floor-to-ceiling glass, looking over the whole city lights of New York. Cold, modern, expensive, with white marble floors and furniture that probably cost more than my entire four years of college. Just like him. Perfect, intimidating, untouchable. And now I was standing in the middle of it, in my cheap black catering uniform that smelled like sour red wine, with a diamond ring that was too big for me taped to my finger because my hands were shaking so much I was scared it would fall off.

He threw a thick, heavy contract onto his marble kitchen island. Ten pages, stapled. Legal language I barely understood, with my name already typed on it: ELLA SCOTT.

I stared at it. "What is this?"

"The marriage contract. The rules of our 90-day arrangement. Read it before you sign, Ella. I'm a fair man."

Fair? He had just blackmailed me into marriage an hour ago at his own engagement party.

I picked it up with trembling hands and started reading out loud, my voice shaking.

"Rule 1: For the next 90 days, Ella Scott will live in Alexander Knight's penthouse as his legal wife and will accompany him to all public events, business dinners, and family gatherings as required."

"Live here? With you?"

"Unless you prefer to commute from your tiny, roach-infested apartment that you can't afford. I had my assistant look you up. You are three months behind on rent. There's a guest room down the hall. Don't worry, I have no interest in sharing a bed with a girl who spills wine for a living."

"Rule 2: No intimacy is required or expected, but she must act as a loving, devoted wife in public at all times. This includes holding hands, kissing on the cheek when required for photos, and attending family dinners with enthusiasm."

"Rule 3: She must not fall in love with him."

I scoffed loudly. "Rule 3 is stupid and arrogant. Why would I ever fall in love with you? You threatened to sue me into oblivion an hour ago."

He smirked, walking closer, still shirtless, revealing a chest that made my brain completely stop working. Hard muscle, perfect abs, broad shoulders, and a dark tattoo on his ribs.

"You'd be surprised how many women fall for me, accidental wife. You are already staring at me like you want me."

"I am NOT staring! I was looking at your tattoo!"

"Rule 4: He will not fall in love with her. Don't worry, princess, that will be the easiest rule of all. You're not my type. I like women who know how to behave in a ballroom."

That stung more than it should have.

"Rule 5: After 90 days, upon successful completion, divorce, $100,000 payment wired to her account, college debt of $42,000 paid in full, no strings attached, and a non-disclosure agreement. She will never speak about this marriage again."

One hundred thousand dollars. Forty-two thousand dollars debt gone. That was life-changing money for me. That was freedom.

He held out a black Montblanc pen. His fingers brushed mine as I took it. Electric. Warm.

I was about to sign when the private penthouse elevator dinged.

"Alex? Darling? Are you here? I heard what Victoria did at the party, you poor thing, I came as fast as I could-"

A beautiful, elegant woman in her 50s walked in with a casserole dish, and froze mid-step when she saw me. Her eyes went from my cheap catering uniform to the huge diamond ring to Alexander shirtless next to me.

Alexander didn't miss a single beat. He walked over in two long strides and wrapped a strong, possessive arm around my waist, pulling me hard against his bare chest. I gasped at the skin contact.

"Mother. Perfect timing. I want you to meet my wife. Ella Knight. My wife. We got married an hour ago at City Hall. It was spontaneous. Love at first sight."

His mother looked like she was going to faint.

"Your WIFE? Alexander Knight, what are you talking about? You were supposed to marry Victoria Hale tonight!"

I could feel his hand tightening on my waist, a silent, dangerous warning: Play along right now or you lose everything.

I swallowed hard and forced the biggest, sweetest, most fake smile of my entire life, leaning into his chest and putting my hand on his stomach. His muscles flexed under my palm.

"Hi... Mom. It's so nice to finally meet you. Alexander talks about you all the time."

Alexander's lips twitched. For the first time tonight, he looked almost amused. His grey eyes were actually laughing at me.

He looked down at me, his voice low and husky and full of fake love for his mother to hear.

"See, Mother? I told you. She already loves you. And I already love her more than life itself. Isn't she perfect?"

His mother was still staring at us like we were aliens who had landed in her son's penthouse.

This was going to be the longest 90 days of my entire life. And the most dangerous. Because the man I had just signed a contract with was looking at me like I was already his.

And for the first time, I wasn't sure if I was acting anymore.

The elevator doors closed and I was alone with him. A billionaire who now called me his wife.

"Take off the ring," he said coldly the second his mother left. The warm, loving husband act vanished instantly.

I stared at him. "What?"

He poured two whiskeys, sliding one across the marble counter to me. "The act is over for tonight. My mother bought it. For now. But we need to get one thing clear, Ella. This is not real. This is business."

My hands were still shaking. I took the ring off. It left a red mark on my finger. It was so heavy.

"Good. Now sit. We have rules to set."

I sat on the edge of his ridiculously expensive white sofa, afraid to dirty it with my uniform.

He sat opposite me, still shirtless, still unfairly handsome, and opened a file on his laptop.

"I had my lawyer draft this while you were standing there looking terrified. You will get $100,000 at the end of 90 days. $20,000 upfront tomorrow to pay your rent and quit that catering job. You will move in here tomorrow morning. You will have your own room, your own bathroom, your own closet. You will not enter my room without knocking."

He spoke like he was reading a grocery list.

"You will be expected to attend three events per week with me. Dinners, galas, board meetings. My stylist will dress you. My driver will take you. You will smile, you will say 'Yes darling', and you will pretend you are madly in love with me."

I found my voice. "And what do I get besides money? I mean, what if your family hates me? Your mother looked like she wanted to call the police."

He actually laughed. A short, cold laugh. "My mother will love you. She has wanted me married for five years. She doesn't care if you were a waitress, a student, or an alien. She just wants grandkids."

Grandkids? My face went hot. "There will be NO grandkids! Rule 2 said no intimacy!"

"Relax. I don't want kids with a stranger either. It's just something she will ask. You will say 'We're taking our time'. That's all."

He slid the contract toward me again, this time with a pen.

"This time, really read it. And sign it. Or you can walk out that door right now and wait for the lawsuit papers for the ten million dollar contract you destroyed. The catering company already fired you, by the way. I got a text."

My blood ran cold. Fired? I needed that job.

He saw my face. "Don't look like that. It's not personal. It's just business. You ruined my deal, so I ruined your job. Now I'm offering you a better one. Being my wife is a promotion. Most women would kill for this chance."

"I'm not most women," I whispered, tears in my eyes.

"I know," he said quietly, and for a second his voice was softer. "That's why I chose you. Victoria was perfect. Beautiful, rich, connected. But she was fake. You... you spilled wine all over me in front of 200 people and your first instinct was to apologize with napkins. You're real."

I looked up, surprised by his words.

He quickly looked away, his cold mask back on. "Don't get ideas. It's just an observation. Now sign."

I looked down at the paper. $100,000. Debt gone. Rent paid. No more catering. Just 90 days of pretending. I could do 90 days. I had survived four years of college with no money, I could survive 90 days with a handsome jerk in a penthouse.

I picked up the pen.

"What happens if I break a rule? Like... if I accidentally fall for you?" I tried to joke, but my voice cracked.

He leaned forward, his grey eyes dark and serious, inches from my face. I could smell whiskey and his cologne.

"Then you will get hurt, Ella. Because I don't do love. My last engagement just ended with my fiancée sleeping with my business partner. Love is a liability I can't afford. So do yourself a favor. Don't fall for me."

His words should have been a warning, but my stupid heart beat faster.

I signed. Ella Scott, in messy, shaky handwriting, right next to Alexander Knight's perfect, strong signature.

The moment the ink dried, he stood up.

"Good. Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Knight. Your room is the second door on the left. Be ready by 8 AM. My stylist will be here. And Ella?"

"Yes?"

"Try not to spill anything on the sheets. They're $5,000."

And with that, he walked into his bedroom and closed the door, leaving me alone in his huge, cold, beautiful penthouse, wearing a catering uniform and holding a contract that just made me a billionaire's wife for 90 days.

What had I just done?I stood there for a long time after his door closed. The penthouse was silent except for the hum of the city far below. I was alone. Really alone. In a stranger's home, wearing a stranger's ring, having just signed my life away.

I walked to my room - the second door on the left. It was bigger than my entire apartment. A king-size bed with white sheets that really did look like they cost $5000. A closet already half full of boxes. I opened one. Dresses. Designer dresses with tags still on. Shoes. He had actually had someone shop for me.

I sat on the bed and finally let the tears come. What was I doing? I was 22. I was supposed to be studying for finals, not married to a cold billionaire who hated me.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "This is Alexander. My driver will pick you up My phone buzzed again. Another text from Alexander: "Stop overthinking and sleep. You look terrible when you cry. 6 AM is sharp. Don't make me come get you."

I stared at the message. Was that supposed to be caring? Or was he just being a jerk again? I couldn't tell with him. One second he was cold, the next second he was looking at me like I was the only real person in his fake world.

I typed back: "I don't look terrible. And I'm not crying."

Three dots appeared instantly. He replied: "Your mascara on my guest pillow says otherwise. Goodnight, accidental wife."

I touched my cheek. My mascara was indeed smudged. I threw the phone on the bed and screamed into the pillow - the $5000 pillow. It smelled like him. Cold and expensive and annoyingly perfect.

90 days. I just had to survive 90 days without falling for my billionaire husband.