Ashton's Pov 

Eleanor's mansion in Pacific Heights was where I'd spent every Sunday dinner since I was seven years old. The place still smelled like her lavender perfume and old money.

Olivia sat beside me in the car, fidgeting with the engagement ring I'd given her an hour ago. Five carats, emerald cut, worth more than most people's houses. She wore it like a shackle.

"Stop playing with it. You're supposed to love it."

"I'm supposed to love you too, but we both know that's theater." She dropped her hand. "How long is this dinner going to take?"

"However long Eleanor wants. She's eighty-six and terrifying. You smile, agree with her, and let her think this is real."

"What if she asks how we fell in love? We met three days ago when you destroyed my business."

"We met three days ago and felt an instant connection. The catering disaster became our story, how conflict revealed compatibility." I'd rehearsed this. "Love at first fight. Eleanor will eat that up."

"You're disturbingly good at lying."

"I'm good at strategy. There's a difference." I pulled up to the mansion. "Remember, she's sharp. One inconsistency and she'll know."

The front door opened before we reached it. Eleanor stood there in a purple dress, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Ashton, darling!" She kissed both my cheeks, then turned to Olivia. "And the infamous Olivia Chen. Let me see that ring."

Olivia extended her hand. Eleanor examined the ring, then smiled.

"He chose well. His grandfather gave me a similar one." She linked arms with Olivia. "Come, dear. Let's leave Ashton to his brandy. I want to hear everything about how my impossible grandson fell in love."

I watched them disappear into the sitting room. This was the real test.

****************

Olivia's Pov 

Eleanor's sitting room was full of antiques and family photos. I spotted a young Ashton in several frames, smiling, open, nothing like the cold man I'd signed a contract with.

"Sit, dear. Would you like tea? Wine? Something stronger?" Eleanor poured herself sherry.

"Tea is fine, thank you."

She prepared it herself, which surprised me. "So. Tell me the truth. Did my grandson bully you into this?"

My hand froze reaching for the cup. "What?"

"Ashton thinks he's subtle, but I raised him. I know when he's maneuvering." She sat across from me. "He needs a wife to secure his inheritance. You need money. He made you an offer. Am I close?"

My heart pounded. "Mrs. Blackwell-"

"Eleanor, please. And relax. I'm not going to expose you." She sipped her sherry. "I'm the one who suggested you, remember? I wanted to see if he'd be smart enough to pursue it."

"You... wanted this?"

"I wanted him to choose someone real. Someone who'd challenge him instead of worshiping him." She set down her glass. "Every woman he's dated wanted the Blackwell name. You're the first one who told him to shove it."

I laughed despite myself. "I didn't phrase it exactly like that."

"Close enough. You saw him as a person, not a bank account. That's rare." She leaned forward. "So here's what I need to know. Can you be what he needs?"

"I don't understand."

"Ashton has been cold and controlled since Victoria Sterling broke his heart five years ago. He buried himself in work and forgot how to be human." Eleanor's expression softened. "I don't care if this marriage is real or fake. I care if you can remind him that he's more than his company. Can you do that?"

"I don't know. I barely know him."

"You knew him well enough to call him out in a room full of people who've been kissing his ass for years." She smiled. "That takes either stupidity or courage. You don't strike me as stupid."

"I was desperate and angry. Not brave."

"They're often the same thing." She refilled her sherry. "I'm going to tell you something I've never told Ashton. His mother-my daughter-in-law-took her own life when he was twelve."

The words hit me like ice water. "Oh my God."

"The family said it was an accident. But I knew. She'd been miserable for years, married to my son James who cared more about quarterly earnings than his own wife." Eleanor's voice cracked. "I watched Ashton become exactly like his father. Cold. Distant. Married to his work. And I can't watch him end up alone and broken like her."

"Eleanor, I'm so sorry, but I can't fix him. This is just a contract."

"Contracts can become real if you let them." She met my eyes. "One year is enough time to show someone there's another way to live. Whether you take that opportunity is up to you."

The door opened. Ashton stepped in, his face carefully neutral. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all. Olivia and I were just getting acquainted." Eleanor stood. "Dinner is ready. James is already complaining that we're keeping him waiting."

"Father's here?" Ashton's jaw tightened.

"Of course. He needs to meet his future daughter-in-law." Eleanor swept past him. "Try to be civil, both of you."

Ashton offered me his arm. "How bad was it?"

"She knows."

"Knows what?"

"That this is an arrangement. She orchestrated it." I kept my voice low. "Why didn't you tell me your mother committed suicide?"

His entire body went rigid. "That's not dinner conversation."

"It's not any conversation apparently. You let me walk in there blind."

"My mother's death has nothing to do with our contract." His voice was ice.

"It has everything to do with why you can't trust anyone." I pulled my arm free. "I'm not going into dinner with more secrets. Either tell me the truth or I walk."

"You signed a contract."

"Sue me. I'm already broke." I headed for the door.

"Wait." The word stopped me. "You're right. I should have told you. My mother-Catherine-she was unhappy. My father neglected her for work. One night when I was twelve, she took pills. They called it an accidental overdose, but I found her note."

I turned back. His face was blank, but his hands were clenched.

"What did it say?"

"That she was sorry. That being a Blackwell wife had killed who she used to be. That she hoped I'd be stronger than my father." He met my eyes. "I burned it. No one else knows it existed."

"Ashton-"

"Don't. I don't need pity. I need you to understand that this family destroys people who aren't strong enough. Eleanor thinks you can handle it. I'm not convinced."

"Good. I'm not convinced either." I straightened my shoulders. "But I signed the contract. So let's go meet your father and pretend we're madly in love."

He almost smiled. "You're tougher than you look."

"I've survived worse than a dinner party."

"You haven't met my father yet."

The dining room was formal. James Blackwell sat at the head of the table, reading a financial report. He didn't look up when we entered.

"Father, this is Olivia Chen. My fiancée." Ashton pulled out my chair.

James finally looked up. His eyes were the same shade as Ashton's but completely empty of warmth. "The caterer."

"Pastry chef," I corrected. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwell."

"Is it?" He set down his report. "Ashton, I expected better judgment from you. This is obviously a ploy to satisfy the inheritance clause."

"James, don't start." Eleanor took her seat. "They're in love. Anyone can see it."

"Anyone can see it's convenient timing." James turned to me. "How much is he paying you?"

Ashton's hand found mine under the table, squeezing. Warning me.

"He's not paying me anything," I said carefully. "I love your son."

"You love a man you met three days ago? How financially fortunate for you." James smiled without humor. "Let me be clear, Miss Chen. I don't care what arrangement you've made with my son. But if you embarrass this family or damage Blackwell Industries' reputation, I will destroy you. Are we understood?"

The room went silent. Eleanor looked furious. Ashton's hand tightened on mine.

I stood up slowly. "Mr. Blackwell, I understand perfectly. You're a bully who uses money as a weapon because you don't know how to connect with people like a human being. I've met men like you before. They die alone, wondering why no one came to their funeral."

I grabbed my purse. "Ashton, take me home. I'm done being insulted by your family."

I made it to the foyer before Ashton caught up. "Olivia, wait-"

"That man is a monster. How did you turn out even remotely decent?" I was shaking.

"I didn't. You just met the best parts." He grabbed his keys. "But you were magnificent. Even Eleanor looked impressed."

"I wasn't performing. I meant every word."

"I know. That's what made it perfect." He opened the door. "Come on. Let's get out of here before my father has a stroke."

We were in the car when Eleanor appeared at the driver's window, tapping. Ashton rolled it down.

"That," Eleanor said, grinning, "was the best dinner this family has had in twenty years. Olivia, dear, you're going to fit in perfectly."

She walked back inside, leaving us in stunned silence.

"Did your grandmother just approve of me telling off your father?"

Ashton started the engine, and for the first time since I met him, he laughed. "Welcome to the Blackwell family, Olivia. It only gets worse from here."

Olivia's Pov 

Marcus was waiting on the porch when Ashton dropped me off. His arms were crossed, his expression dark.

"Who's the guy in the Bentley?"

"We need to talk." I climbed out, waving to Ashton. He pulled away slowly, watching us in his rearview mirror.

"Liv, what's going on? You've been weird all week." Marcus followed me inside. "And is that an engagement ring?"

I held up my hand, the diamond catching the porch light. "I'm getting married."

"To who? You haven't dated anyone in two years." He grabbed my hand, examining the ring. "This is real. This is insane. Who is he?"

"Ashton Blackwell. We met at the investor event." I went to the kitchen, needing something to do with my hands. "It happened fast."

"Fast? Liv, you met him three days ago when he fired you." Marcus's voice rose. "What the hell is happening?"

I couldn't tell him the truth. The NDA was ironclad. But I couldn't lie to my baby brother either.

"He apologized for how he treated me. We talked. We connected." The words felt like ash. "I know it sounds crazy-"

"It sounds like a scam. Or like you've lost your mind." Marcus paced the small kitchen. "You don't even believe in marriage. You said it was a patriarchal trap after Mom died."

"I changed my mind."

"In three days? After one conversation with a billionaire?" He stopped pacing. "Oh my God. This is about money, isn't it? The foreclosure notice."

My silence answered him.

"Liv, no. Tell me you didn't sell yourself to some rich asshole to save the house." His voice cracked. "I'll drop out. I'll work. We'll figure it out together."

"You're not dropping out. Mom died making sure you could finish school." I grabbed his shoulders. "This is my choice. Ashton is good to me. This is real."

"You're lying. I can always tell when you're lying. Your left eye twitches." He pulled away. "I can't believe you'd do this."

"Marcus-"

"I need air." He headed for the door. "Don't wait up."

The door slammed. I stood alone in our mother's kitchen, wearing a stranger's ring, and wondered if Ashton was right about everyone being transactional.

My phone buzzed.

"How did it go? - AB" 

*He knows something's wrong. Just not what." 

" He'll adjust. People always do when money's involved." 

I threw my phone on the counter. Ashton's cynicism was exhausting.

Another buzz. Sophie this time.

" Emergency bestie meeting. My place. Now. Wine required." 

******************

Sophie shoved a wine glass in my hand the second I walked in.

"Talk. Now. Why is my Google alert blowing up with photos of you and Ashton Blackwell?"

"Google alert?"

"I set one up after you met him. I don't trust billionaires." She pulled up her laptop. "Look. 'Tech Mogul Ashton Blackwell Engaged to Mystery Woman.' There's a photo of you two leaving his grandmother's mansion. You look miserable."

"I was miserable. His father is a nightmare."

"Liv, what is happening?" Sophie sat beside me. "Please tell me you didn't sign that contract."

I held up my left hand.

"Oh my God. You married him already?"

"Engaged. Wedding's in three weeks." I drank half the wine in one gulp. "I signed this afternoon. Had dinner with his family tonight. His grandmother knows it's fake and approves. His father hates me. Marcus suspects and isn't speaking to me. So yeah, it's going great."

Sophie refilled my glass. "Okay. Deep breath. Tell me everything."

I told her about the contract, the money, the terms. When I finished, Sophie was quiet for a long moment.

"Three and a half million dollars."

"Plus Marcus's tuition and expenses."

"For one year of playing house with an emotionally unavailable billionaire." She set down her glass. "Liv, this is either the smartest or stupidest thing you've ever done."

"I don't know which one yet."

"What's he like? Really like, when you're alone?"

I thought about Ashton's face when he told me about his mother. The way his hands clenched. The vulnerability he hid behind ice.

"Damaged. Brilliant. Cold on the surface but there's something underneath. Something hurt." I stared at my ring. "His grandmother thinks I can fix him. I can't. I'm barely holding myself together."

"Maybe you just have to survive him for twelve months."

"He said the same thing about catching feelings. If it happens, suffer quietly until the contract expires." I laughed bitterly. "Very romantic."

"Do you think you could? Catch feelings?"

"For a man who views me as a business transaction? No." But even as I said it, I remembered the way Ashton had defended me to his father. "I don't know. Maybe. Which would be disaster."

"Because men like Ashton Blackwell don't fall in love with women like me. We're too different." I finished my wine. "This is temporary. I need to remember that."

Sophie hugged me. "For what it's worth, I think you're brave. Stupid, but brave."

My phone rang. Ashton.

"I should take this."

Sophie nodded, retreating to her bedroom.

"Hello?"

"We have a problem." Ashton's voice was tight. "Victoria Sterling is back in San Francisco. She knows about our engagement."

My stomach dropped. "Your ex-fiancée? You didn't mention her."

"Because she's been in Europe for five years. I didn't think she'd matter." He exhaled sharply. "She just called. She wants to meet you. Tomorrow. Lunch at her club."

"Why?"

"To assess the threat. Victoria views me as unfinished business." He paused. "This is going to get complicated."

"More complicated than lying to my brother and being insulted by your father?"

"Yes. Victoria is dangerous. She's smart, connected, and she knows exactly how to manipulate people." His voice dropped. "She's the reason I don't believe in love anymore."

"What did she do to you?"

"That's not important. What's important is that you understand she will try to break us up. She'll dig into your past, find your weaknesses, exploit them." He sounded tired. "If you're going to back out of this contract, now's the time."

I thought about Marcus, about the debt, about working three jobs until I died. "I'm not backing out."

"Good. Because the story just hit the society pages. We're officially news." He sent me a link. "Check your email. My publicist prepared a statement. Memorize it. You'll be giving interviews by Monday."

The article headline read: "Silicon Valley's Most Eligible Bachelor Off the Market: Ashton Blackwell's Whirlwind Romance with Unknown Chef."

Unknown chef. That stung more than it should.

"They make me sound like nobody."

"You are nobody to them. That's the point. Cinderella story sells." He was typing in the background. "I'm sending a stylist to your house tomorrow morning. You need a new wardrobe for lunch with Victoria. Nothing you own will work for her club."

"What's wrong with my clothes?"

"They're fine for your life. Not for mine." He said it matter-of-factly, no malice. Somehow that made it worse. "The stylist's name is Patricia. She's discreet and efficient. Let her do her job."

"Anything else you want to change about me?"

"Your attitude could use work, but we'll save that for later." He almost sounded amused. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be brutal."

"Ashton, wait. What am I supposed to say to Victoria?"

"The truth. That you love me, we're getting married, and she's too late." He paused. "Can you lie convincingly?"

"I've been lying to Marcus all night. I'm getting good at it."

"That's what concerns me." His voice softened slightly. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your brother. This arrangement has costs for both of us."

"What costs do you have? You're getting exactly what you want."

"Am I?" He was quiet for a moment. "Goodnight, Olivia. Don't let the wine make you do anything stupid."

He hung up before I could respond.

Sophie emerged from her bedroom. "Wine's not strong enough. I'm breaking out the tequila."

"I have to meet his ex-fiancée tomorrow. The one who broke his heart."

"Of course you do. Because this situation wasn't messy enough." She grabbed the tequila and poured two shots. "To faking it and making it."

We clinked glasses. The tequila burned going down.

My phone buzzed one more time. A text from a number I didn't recognize.

" Welcome to the family, dear. Ashton chose well. Don't let Victoria intimidate you. She's all bark and expensive shoes. - Eleanor" 

I showed Sophie.

"I like the grandmother."

"Me too. Which makes this whole thing harder." I took another shot. "What if I actually start caring about these people?"

"Then you're screwed. But at least you'll be rich and screwed."

We laughed, but it sounded hollow.

Marcus's bedroom light was still off. He hadn't come home.

I texted him: *I love you. I'm sorry. This is the right choice even if you don't understand yet.*

He didn't respond.

I stared at my engagement ring, this beautiful prison I'd locked myself into, and wondered if Ashton was right.

Maybe everyone really was just transactions and survival.

"Maybe love was the lie we told ourselves to make it hurt less."

Ashton's POV

With crystal chandeliers, champagne flutes clinking, and everyone smiling, the charity dinner was a glittering cage. I detested these occasions. Had always had. However, Olivia was by my side, wearing her green gown that caught the light and made her skin shimmer, so tonight seemed different. Something sharp twisted in my chest when she laughed at one of Derek's stupid jokes, throwing back her head and exposing her throat for a heartbeat. When did her chuckle begin to pierce my armor? My jaw tightened. This remained a contract. An exchange. Emotions were a liability. I had to keep that in mind.

Then, like smoke from a fire I had long since put out, Victoria emerged from the crowd. The red dress, which she had always weaponized so skillfully, clung to every curve. "Ashton, sweetheart." Her voice sounded like honey over glass. Her lips touched my cheek as she leaned in, lingering just long enough to make my skin crawl. I was struck by the same jasmine scent that I had spent a lot of money trying to forget.

With her gaze slipping to Olivia, she whispered, "Congratulations again." "And this must be your fiancée."

Olivia had a steel-smile. "Victoria." I've heard a lot about you.

"I hope it's all good." Victoria looked at Olivia in a dissatisfied yet amused manner, much like someone evaluating a fake purse. "We ought to eat lunch sometime. Ex to the present. I could offer some survival advice on how to deal with him.

Olivia's fingers pressed into my tuxedo sleeve as her fingers clenched around my forearm. "Thank you, I think I'm doing great."

Victoria's laugh was brittle and brilliant. "You are, of course, my dear."

Pretending to coordinate photographers, Natalie hovered ten feet distant with her tablet in hand. However, her gaze continued to flicker, first to Olivia, then to Victoria, and finally to me. Throughout the week, she had been posing strange questions. When was the wedding date decided upon? Did Olivia already have a prenup agreement? I dismissed it as the overzealous actions of an assistant. It felt darker now.

Next, James showed up with a whisky in his hand and pulled me away with that familiar grasp that implied compliance was anticipated. His voice remained low, reserved for me alone. "I take it that this is only temporary? A show for the board? Victoria has returned to her hometown. She is aware of our world. The game. Get married to someone who won't make the name look bad.

Olivia stood stiff up next to me. She had heard every word. Her cheeks lost color, but she remained unflinching. She just took her hand from my arm and drifted, as if in need of fresh air, toward the balcony doors.

I didn't excuse myself from my father; I just followed.

The night air was cool, crisp, and real. Leaning against the stone railing, Olivia gazed down at the city lights that stretched out like diamonds. Her knuckles were white against the rail, and her shoulders were tight.

"Your father is correct," she whispered. "I don't belong there."

"You do." The words came out more roughly than I had intended. I moved in closer till I could feel the heat radiating from her. "He is incorrect. In that whole room, you are the only genuine thing.

She turned. She had too much brightness in her eyes. "Actually this began because you settled my debts, Ashton. On paper, I am here. That's all.

"No longer." After hesitating, I raised my hand and cupped her face. Under my palm, her skin felt like warm silk. "Not for me."

Her breath caught. For a moment, I feared that she would retreat behind her fierce independence, which she carried like armor. Rather, she got up on her tiptoes to meet me halfway.

The kiss began gently. Then it caught fire. I grabbed her waist and pulled her close to me. My heart raced in my ears as she tasted like champagne, vanilla, and something more exotic. As if I were oxygen and she was drowning, her fingers curled into my lapels and drew me in. I tilted her head, intensifying the kiss until all I could hear was the tiny moan she made in the back of her throat and the slide of her tongue.

Inside, applause broke out, signaling the start of the auction. I was unconcerned. She didn't either. Only when oxygen became essential did we separate. Her cheeks were heated and her lips were puffy. With a gravel voice, I urged, "Come back in with me."

With hazy eyes, she nodded.

I saw the artwork she had loved earlier inside. It was a little canvas depicting a gloomy New York street with warm lights shining in the windows. I made a strong bid. Her eyes widened as the hammer dropped. "You didn't have to, Ashton-"

"I wanted to." Easy. It's true.

Derek saw us close to the bar and smiled as if he had just won a lottery with himself. "Blackwell, look at you. Smiling. I'm betting that I'll leave the office before midnight tomorrow. What have you done to my best friend, and who the heck are you?

I whispered, "Shut up," but my mouth's corner still lifted.

Olivia laid her head on my shoulder during the limo trip home. Neon streaks blurred past the city. She said, "Tonight felt... different."

"It was." I kissed her temple. No photographers. Not a performance. Only the soft beat of her breathing against my jacket.

She took off her shoes at the penthouse and made her way directly to the kitchen-the stress reaction, which I was beginning to long for. I rolled up my sleeves and shrugged out of my jacket as I followed. "Teach me."

Startled, she laughed. "You? Make cookies at one in the morning?

"Why not?"

We worked side by side. I cracked eggs while she measured flour. The tip of her nose was dusted with flour. I extended my hand and used my thumb to brush it away. She froze. Our gazes met. The air became more dense.

I gave her another kiss, this time slowly and deliberately. With her hands moving up my chest, she let out a moan into my mouth. The heat erupted quickly and intensely. I stepped between her thighs and hoisted her onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around my waist. Cookies are forgotten. Skin, breath, and the way she spoke my name like a secret became the only things in the universe.

On the island, my phone buzzed insistently. I ignored it. It buzzed once more after that.

Cursing beneath my breath, I broke the kiss. An email that is anonymous. The subject line is empty. Attachments include heaps of past-due medical bills, pictures of Olivia's former apartment block and her mother's name written in bold black pen. "She doesn't belong," the message body read. Leave before it's too late.

My veins were filled with ice. With my heart pounding against my chest, I quickly erased it. There was an observer. Excavating. Victoria? Natalie? Is Trevor Vaughn looking for signs of weakness?

Olivia saw the change. "What's not right?"

"Nothing." I made myself smile again. "Just work crap."

She looked at my face, but she didn't press. In deep stillness, we finished the cookies. Crumbs stuck to her lower lip when she bit on one. I used my thumb to wipe them away once more, more slowly this time. I acknowledged to myself that I was falling as I watched her eyes briefly flutter shut. Difficult. Carelessly. And before it could establish itself, someone wanted to tear it away.

Olivia was still asleep next to me the following morning, her hair all over the pillow, when my phone lit up with a fresh text from an unknown number.

"Tick tock. The truth will shortly be revealed.

I gazed at the screen till it became hazy. Who in the world was doing this? How much did they already know?

Olivia was calm, trustworthy, and mine in a way I never would have imagined wanting somebody to be. I gripped the phone more tightly.

They were going to discover one thing, regardless of the nature of the game: I defend what is mine.

Even if it means losing everything.