"I heard about your new project," Aria said.
I raised my head from my phone, staring at her in bewilderment.
"What?"
"It's not a secret. Word is everywhere that you're taking part in the East Bay project. It's kind of the talk of the city."
"Well… I might be taking part."
"What do you mean might?"
I sighed. "If I don't get the capital to buy the land, I'll lose my chance. The government officials definitely won't lease it, not when the land is so popular and there are dozens of companies fighting for it."
"Why don't you just get a loan? Besides, your mom's family owns the largest bank in the city."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I want to prove I can handle things on my own. My dad keeps treating me like a child. He wants me to 'stop this fetish of being an entrepreneur and running a company.'" I made air quotes with my fingers. "He expects me to stay home, enjoy the family wealth, and wait for some Prince Charming. They don't take me seriously at all. And if I can't get support from my own family's bank, no other bank will give me a loan."
Aria frowned. "Okay… so what's the plan now?"
"Well, you know the Gonzalez Global Group."
"Yeah, who doesn't? Besides, your one and only love is a Gonzalez." She gave me a teasing smile.
"That was a long time ago. We were young and naïve."
"Oooh." I mocked her tone.
"Do you want to hear the plan or not?" I shot her a look.
"Fine. Hit me."
"I got some news from my source—apparently, the Gonzalezes won't be taking part in the bidding for the land."
Her jaw dropped. "That's great news, because with them in the picture, no one else stands a chance."
"I know."
"So how does this help you get the finance?"
"Great question. Since they're not interested in the land, I was thinking of making a deal with them for funding."
Aria raised a brow. "And what could you possibly have that the almighty Gonzalezes would want?"
"Honestly? Nothing. But I was thinking of asking for a loan. I'd pay back with interest after a while."
She blinked. "That's your big idea?"
"It's the only option. Besides, I've got a dinner meeting with Matheo."
Aria's eyes widened. "The Matheo? As in Matheo Gonzalez?"
"Yeah."
"Wow."
"What?"
"So you're going to ask the business god for help? The same one whose brother you asked out in college—when it was painfully obvious he liked you?"
"Bloody hell, it wasn't that public."
"Oh please. So the field at college was a private place?"
I groaned, covering my face. "Fuck. How was I even that stupid? Lucky no one recorded it."
"Maybe they were too stunned to react."
"Whatever. That's in the past."
"And now you're going to use the fact that big brother likes you to get the help you need?"
"What makes you think he likes me?"
"For starters, he's cold to everyone. He's the untouchable business god. Companies wait months—sometimes a year—just to get a meeting with him. Yet you casually tell me you've got dinner with him?"
"Well, we did grow up together. That gives me a little leverage. Doesn't mean he likes me."
"Keep saying it until you believe it."
I grabbed my jacket, rolling my eyes. "I don't have time to feed your delusions. I have a meeting to attend."
"More like a date."
"Girl, shut up. This is important."
"Fine," she said with a grin. "Go have your business meeting with the stunning, devilishly handsome business god."
I ignored her, rolling my eyes again, and walked out of her living room.
Outside the Vega mansion, my assistant Marcus was waiting beside the car.
"Good evening, boss," he said, opening the back door for me.
I gave him a small nod and slid into the leather seat. The car pulled away from the gates and merged into the pulse of the city. My heart, however, was beating faster than the traffic lights we passed.
The dinner was at Maison Étoile—one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Months-long waiting lists, tables booked out by royalty and billionaires, and yet… Matheo Gonzalez apparently snapped his fingers and secured a private room. Of course he did.
By the time we rolled into the sleek parking lot, my palms were already clammy. Calm down, Aurora. You've faced boardrooms, shareholders, and sharks in heels sharper than knives. This is just dinner. Dinner with the devil, but still… dinner.
Marcus opened the door, and I stepped out, smoothing down my jacket. The building rose like a glass jewel, light spilling from chandeliers that probably cost more than some people's houses.
Inside, a hostess greeted me with a polished smile. "Welcome to Maison Étoile. Do you have a reservation?"
"Yes. Under Gonzalez." My voice didn't even shake—a small victory.
Her smile widened knowingly, as if the name alone carried weight. She led me past velvet curtains and hushed conversations in French until we reached a heavy wooden door.
"This way, ma'am."
I stopped at the door, palms slick against my skirt as I tried to dry the sweat. One deep breath. Then another. You've got this, Aurora.
I knocked softly.
"Come in," a cold, detached voice commanded.
Matheo.
Even without seeing him, I felt it—the quiet authority woven into that voice. I pushed the door open and stepped in, head high, heels clicking against marble.
He sat at the table with the ease of a king on a throne, gaze briefly lifting to meet mine. His eyes—dark, sharp, and unreadable—pinned me in place before flicking back to the menu as if I were an afterthought.
"Are you planning to stand at the door all night?" he asked, his tone flat, dismissive.
I forced a calm smile, walked to the table, and slid into the seat opposite him. My eyes lingered on his face longer than I intended. That annoyingly perfect jawline wasn't easy to ignore. Maybe Aria was right—he was handsome. But looks didn't erase arrogance.
He didn't bother looking at me when he spoke. "So. What's so important you wanted to discuss?"
"The East Bay project," I began.
His brow arched, finally granting me a fleeting glance that felt like an insult. "Who doesn't know about it?"
"I was hoping to talk to you about the financing."
That got his attention. He set the menu down, eyes narrowing as they fixed on me fully for the first time that night.
"And what," he asked slowly, "makes you think I'd be interested in investing when I could simply take the project for myself?"
"Because you're not interested in the land," I said evenly. "That's exactly why I came to you. I'd like to request a loan—one I'll pay back with interest."
His lips curved—not kindly. "A loan?"
"Yes."
"Do you think I lack money?" His voice cut like glass.
"No," I replied quickly. "If I thought that, I wouldn't be here."
That earned me a smirk. The kind that made him look dangerously untouchable.
"Well," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, "that offer doesn't exactly excite me."
My chest tightened. "Then name your terms. Make a request, and I'll see to it."
He studied me, gaze unblinking, as if peeling away every layer of my soul. Then his expression softened—not warmly, but with the weight of a decision.
"I must say," he murmured, "you've built quite a name for yourself. Not many women in our business could do what you've done. You could've just spent your family's wealth, but instead, you chose to carve out your own empire. I'm impressed."
My heart skipped. Compliments from Matheo Gonzalez were rarer than diamonds.
Then he leaned forward, voice low and deliberate.
"So here's my offer: I'll give you the capital you need. In return…" His eyes gleamed, something dark and calculating flickering beneath them. "…you marry me."
The air left my lungs. "What?"
He didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Just stared, waiting.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. "And what exactly would you gain from this… marriage?"
His smirk deepened, slow and predatory.
"That's my business. All you need to know is—you'll get your capital."
He tilted his head slightly, gaze burning through me.
"Deal?"