Having picked out my lunch, I sit down at a free table. There are so many employees here! What amazes me is how different they all look. Some are dressed in business suits, while others wear outfits completely uncharacteristic for such a firm. There are people in jeans, shorts, and t-shirts, and even a few with brightly dyed hair and extravagant hairstyles. Maybe this cafeteria isn't just for our company's staff?

I barely have time to think about it before some guy casually sits down next to me. Skinny, wearing something like a courier's uniform. A long black fringe peeks out from under his cap.

"Hi, you're new here? I'm Theo," he says as if we've known each other forever.

"Hi. My name's Dana. Yes, it's my first day at work," I reply, still a little embarrassed at his invasion of my modest personal space.

The guy smiles, dimples forming on his cheeks.

"Well, nice to meet you. What do you do here?"

"I'm Margarita assistant."

The boy lets out a low whistle, clearly surprised.

"I see. So how's it working with the she-dragon?" he asks, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Those words about my employer didn't sit too well with me. Although, to be fair, I hadn't really worked with her long enough yet-maybe he was right.

"Why do you call her a she-dragon? She seems like a normal woman. We haven't had any conflicts so far. And what about you? What do you do here?" I tried to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"I'm a courier. I deliver mail and food from the cafeteria to the offices. So, if they load you up with work and you don't have time to eat, just call me," he said, handing me a flyer with the number of the service.

"Alright. But now, maybe we should actually eat? Lunch break isn't endless, and I really don't want to be late on my first day," I replied, no longer looking at him as I turned to my meal.

We began eating, exchanging a few casual phrases. It turned out the cafeteria was, in fact, private, and those people with the sometimes striking appearances were actually some of the best inventors here. The office staff adhered to a strict dress code, but the engineers and inventors could dress however they liked, since they were seen as creative personalities and highly valued. They were, so to speak, the "stars" of the company. Thanks to them, the firm continued to develop and move forward with many projects.

After lunch, Theo escorted me to the HR department before heading off to his own business.

In HR, they told me they were overloaded at the moment and asked me to just leave my documents with them. They promised to email me a contract with all my data, so I could double-check everything and sign it with an electronic key. Afterwards, I'd be able to pick up my papers anytime. That's exactly what I did.

When I returned to my desk, I couldn't understand what was going on. People were carrying equipment and furniture out of the director's office, and he himself was no longer there. What, did they decide to start renovations while I was gone?

But as I looked closer, I realized everything was either broken or smashed apart. What on earth had happened here?

"What happened here?" I asked Margarita, unable to hide my shock. She just rubbed the bridge of her nose with a tired gesture.

"Nothing serious. Don't worry. It looks like the meeting simply didn't go as planned."

"And does it often not go as planned?" I couldn't help but press further.

"Not to this extent-this is the first time. Don't worry, he never lashes out at the staff."

Alright, I'll take her word for it. But judging by the destroyed furniture, he's stronger than he looks. My wolf inside gave a pleased snort at that, quietly impressed with the power of our pair. Human or not, I wouldn't want to be the one to push him into a fight.

"Oh, and Dana! Tomorrow we'll need to come to work earlier. They're bringing in new equipment and furniture for the office. We'll have to oversee it and make sure everything is set up properly."

*******

Konstantin

I'm furious! I've been pounding the punching bag for hours. How could he?! Then again... of course he could. That's exactly the kind of thing my father would do. Always so inventive with his own twisted version of "care."

"Investments in the future," my ass.

After my mother died, I was a difficult child. I was thirteen when she passed away. Cancer. Such a short word, yet so terrifying for anyone. I loved her deeply, I was bound to her. She fought hard, but in the end, she couldn't win.

Just a year later, my father remarried. And it was as if a chasm had opened between us. I was grieving, and I couldn't accept his hasty, brand-new choice.

That was when the rebel in me woke up. I got into fights with boys, was rude to everyone, a typical teenager angry at the whole world. I constantly caused my father problems and headaches.

Until he shipped me off to a closed private boys' school. Money was never an issue for him. David Pavlovich Molotovsky, my father, owned a paint-and-varnish factory. It had been passed down to him from his father, and before that, from his grandfather. A family business through generations.

But none of that interested me. I hated that school almost as much as I hated my father at the time. And yet... it helped me.

At that school, I discovered my passion for inventing. By the time I was sixteen, I already had my first patent-an invention designed to help people with disabilities move with minimal effort.

Ideas poured out of me as if from a horn of plenty. I had no shortage of them. At that time, my greatest support was my descriptive geometry teacher, Margarita Alexandrovna Schmidt. She was the one who saw my potential, who cared for me and always helped. I owe her a great deal, and that's why she now works for me. I know I can always rely on her.

But success doesn't come on its own. To launch my business, I needed finances. So, I turned to my father. He helped with funding and in return became the owner of forty percent of MoTech.

My business grew quickly. More and more of my inventions gained demand, and now the whole world knows about my company. Within its walls, some of the best technicians and brightest engineering minds are gathered.

Two years ago, my father passed away suddenly. A stroke. He left for work in the morning, got into his car... but never made it there. They found him still inside the vehicle. His shares temporarily passed to me. At the time, I didn't pay much attention to the word "temporarily." That was a mistake.

Today, his lawyers came to see me and hit me with a clause in his will. It states that if I don't marry by the time I turn thirty, those shares will pass to our rival company Logitronik. And the man who heads that firm... he's such a vile bastard that I know he'd ruin everything I've built.

And as if that wasn't enough, it isn't just about marriage. I would also have to remain married for at least five years. To make it even worse, my father appointed his best friend, Makar, as a sort of watchdog. At any time, Makar can show up at my house to "verify" the sincerity of my relationship with my wife. After those five years, if Makar confirms the marriage as genuine, the shares will finally pass to me fully and permanently.

My father often hinted that it was time for me to start a family of my own, but to put that into his will-that was a low blow. Clearly, the matter weighed on him far more than I ever realized. And now... there are only two months left until my thirtieth birthday!

Lyoshka, damn him!

That's what my father used to call his favorite lawyer. A scrawny little weed with two degrees, always hovering around my old man. After Father passed away, that snake deliberately kept this clause from me, because he'd struck a deal with the director of that cursed Logitronik, Pyotr Veniaminovich Savelyev. Looks like Alexey had been promised a nice fat slice in exchange for my father's shares.

And I would've gone on in blissful ignorance, if Lyoshka hadn't slipped up during one of his shady money schemes and ended up behind bars. That's when new lawyers stepped into my father's firm-the ones who paid me a visit today.

The moment they left my office, I let my fury loose and wrecked everything in sight. Everything that once stood or hung neatly in that office was reduced to splinters and debris.

I need a wife.

Konstantin

After briefly filling Margarita in on yesterday's visit from the lawyers, I leaned back in my chair and rubbed the bridge of my nose wearily. Since yesterday, it feels like someone's dropped a ton of problems on me-pressing down with unbearable weight.

In some ways, Margarita has always been like a mother to me. I listen to her advice. She's one of the few people who helped me reach the heights I stand on today. Sometimes, simple support and faith in a person-especially a wild teenager-can work miracles and shape their future. She never imposed her opinions on me; she only helped guide my energy in the right direction.

"Yeah..." she sighed. "I never trusted Alexey either. But look, you still have almost two months left. It could've been worse-you might never have learned about your father's condition at all. You have to get married, that's true, but don't rush into choosing."

"How am I not supposed to rush?" I snapped, frustration bubbling inside me. "It's not like I've got a lineup of candidates! I need to find a fake wife-someone I can live with under the same roof for five years. In one house. Always together, in public, under everyone's watchful eyes. And that damn Makar could drop by anytime. With the kind of work I do, I can't trust just anyone. Finding someone to pose as my wife is one thing, but finding someone reliable-someone I can actually depend on-that's not quick or easy. And the fewer people who know about the will's conditions, the better. Otherwise, there'll be plenty of bastards eager to ruin everything for me."

I rose from my seat and turned toward the panoramic window. Below, the city stretched out, filled with people hurrying back and forth. Each of them with their own problems, their own lives, their own hopes.

I ruffle my hair for what feels like the hundredth time. My head is about to explode from the constant thinking. Where on earth am I supposed to find a trustworthy person in such a short time?

And then-like lightning-it hits me. An insight. A revelation. I turn sharply to face Margarita.

"I think I know the right person!" I say, my eyes fixed on the door of the office. "She's right under my nose! If she agrees, I won't even have to look for anyone else."

"Are you sure?" Margarita asks suspiciously. "Maybe you should still take a look around, consider other options?"

"Almost sure," I reply confidently. "She's someone I can trust."

Margarita only sighs heavily in response.

The next day, arriving at work earlier than usual, the first place I head to is the control room of our production workshop. It's located on the second floor, with massive observation windows that offer a full view of the entire manufacturing space.

The workshop is huge-and spotless. The employees move around in special suits and personal protective gear. We take that seriously here. After all, the quality and prestige of our products are at stake. The floor is filled with machinery-both massive and compact-most of it automated. Everything is robotic, powered by the latest technology that costs a small fortune. Human workers only oversee minor processes and input commands into the computers.

I love watching our machines at work. Somewhere, microchips are being soldered; in another area, a laser cuts out a precise detail; and further down the line, someone carefully assembles the finished product. Everything moves along conveyor belts or through the mechanical arms of robots. It all reminds me of a grand industrial orchestra, where every element plays its unique part-resulting in a perfect creation, a symphony.

There's a kind of romance in it for me-watching raw material transform into something precise, valuable, and alive. It calms me. Strangely enough, it even inspires me.

I stand there for a while, absorbed in the rhythm of the factory, until I hear the door open behind me-and the sharp sound of heels tapping against the floor.

I didn't turn around-I already knew who it was.

"Oh, you're here. Good morning. Something's bothering you? You don't usually come here without a reason," Nicole said with a faint smile as she came up beside me, also gazing down at the factory floor.

"What was it you wanted to talk about? You asked for a meeting," she said.

"Not here. Let's go to my office." I kept my eyes on the production line as I spoke, then finally turned and led the way to the door.

As expected, everyone was already at their workstations in my reception area. Margarita and Dana. So Margarita really did choose that girl. She's quite pretty, always neat and professional-and I can't deny I'm crazy about her scent. Those light-colored eyes of hers sometimes look at me as if they can see straight through to my bones.

After greeting everyone, Nicole and I headed into my office. While she settled into one of the chairs, I turned toward the panoramic window overlooking the city below. People everywhere, rushing-some to work, some on their own errands. The rhythm of city life. The sky was clouding over; rain was on the way.

I turned back to Nicole. She's been part of my life for a long time and is one of the few I can call a friend. Beautiful, intelligent, fully versed in my field. This would be the right choice.

She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off:

"Nicole, marry me."

I saw the shock in her eyes-and... was that happiness, too? She stared at me, clearly searching for the right words. I hurried to clarify:

"Not for real. I need your help. You're probably the only close and understanding person I can trust with this. It's my father's will. If I don't marry by my thirtieth birthday, his share of my company's stock goes to Logitronic. You know exactly what that would mean."

The joy in Nicole's eyes faded into thoughtfulness.

"This isn't exactly how I pictured my morning. And certainly not a proposal of marriage," she said with a faintly sad smile, not looking at me. "Can you explain in more detail what would be required of me in the role of your wife?" At last, she lifted her gaze to meet mine.

And in my mind, unbidden, flashed Dana's eyes-lighter even than Nicole's. Clearing my throat, I explained:

"We'll sign a contract. I need a wife for five years. But-" I paused. "The problem is, my father had a friend appointed to make sure the marriage is real, not fake." Nicole's brows drew together as she listened closely. "He can show up at my house at any time, meet with us, drop in unannounced. So we'll need to convincingly play the part in front of him."

Nicole exhaled slowly, still deep in thought.

"As for everything else," I continued, "there are no obligations. You're free to see whoever you want, just not openly. And yes, we'll live in the same house. I'll cover all expenses-including your role." I dropped heavily into my chair, feeling drained. "My birthday's in about two months, and I have no other candidate-certainly no romantic one. I'm not handing my life's work to that bastard Savelyev without a fight. You know exactly what this would mean for our company and everything we've built."

I looked straight into her eyes, hope flickering in mine.

"So... are you willing to go along with this crazy plan?"

"Won't it look suspicious to your father's friend that you suddenly decided to get married?" Nicole asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"No," I said confidently. "He knows we've been working together for a long time. We'll say we've been secretly in love for years and just kept it quiet. And when the details of the will came out, we decided there was no point hiding it anymore - so we made the decision to make it official. We'll go over the details later."

Nicole looked at me for a few moments, then gave a firm nod.

"Alright. I agree."

---

Dear readers,

This is my very first book, and I'm really nervous about it. I'd be so happy to hear any of your thoughts or comments! ❤️