Three months of pretending, how hard could it be?"
Izzy didn't sleep. How could she? She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it clicked with every turn. The billionaire's card on her nightstand seemed like a ticket out of this hell she was in.
A fake engagement. With Alexander Blackwood.
It was absurd and insane. The kind of thing rich people did in soap operas or scandals. Not in real life. Not in hers.
And yet...
She rechecked her phone. Three missed calls from the billing department. One polite voicemail that barely masked the urgency. A note from the pharmacy: her mom's latest medication wouldn't be released until payment was made.
She stared at the card Alex had left behind.
It didn't feel like an opportunity, it felt like a trap. But so did everything else these days.
By 7 a.m., she was already half-dressed and pacing, the card clenched in her hand tightly. Sophie called right as she was slipping on her coat.
"You look like you didn't sleep," Sophie said the second she answered the video call.
"That's because I didn't."
"You're not thinking of calling him."
"I'm thinking of surviving," Izzy said. "There's a difference."
Sophie frowned. "Izzy, you're the most resourceful person I know. But this? This sounds like something out of a tabloid disaster. You fake-date a billionaire, then disappear under suspicious circumstances."
"I don't have to disappear. I have to fake it."
Sophie groaned. "Promise me one thing?"
"Maybe."
"Don't sign anything until I read it."
Izzy hesitated. "Fine."
She hung up, pocketed the card, and left before she could change her mind.
Blackwood Enterprises looked even more intimidating in daylight—a steel-and-glass giant among Midtown's chaos. The lobby was silent, sleek, and smelled like Roses.
"Izzy Hart," she told the receptionist.
Without blinking, the woman said, "Mr. Blackwood is expecting you."
Of course, he was.
The elevator shot to the top floor. The only thing audible was her racing heartbeat.
When the doors opened, Alex was already there, no assistant, no laptop. Just him, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows like a scene out of a billionaire's revenge fantasy.
He turned when she stepped in.
"You came," he said, like it was inevitable.
"I haven't said yes."
"Yet."
She followed him into his office. It was larger than her apartment. Probably twice as expensive, too. Dark wood, green leather sofa with a fireplace. It was a kind of place where deals happened and people didn't leave quite the same.
"I drafted the contract," he said, gesturing to the document on the table.
"You don't waste time."
"I don't have time to waste."
She picked it up. Three months, no intimacy. Public appearances only. Confidentiality clause. Clear payment schedule. Final say on media coverage.
And tucked at the bottom, a small clause that caught her attention.
"What's this?" she asked, pointing.
"If the arrangement ends early," he said, "you keep a percentage. Unless you breach confidentiality or appear in any unauthorized press."
"So if I so much as sneeze in the wrong direction, I'm screwed."
"If you sneeze while leaking proprietary business information, yes."
She raised a brow. "Do people really do that?"
He looked at her like he'd seen worse.
Izzy set the contract down. "Why me?"
"You embarrassed me."
"Most people don't offer jobs to people who do that."
"I'm not most people."
He walked to the desk, pulled out a sleek black folder, and placed it in front of her.
"That's your media profile," he said. "We had to update it."
"You had someone dig through my life in twelve hours?"
"Twelve hours is generous."
Izzy opened the folder. A summary of her business. Her degree. Mentions of her mother's medical fundraising page. Even a quote from a Yelp review where someone had praised her centerpieces.
"You're thorough."
"I'm cautious."
"You mean paranoid."
"I prefer prepared."
Izzy closed the folder.
"My mom's treatment is in two weeks," she said quietly. "The hospital needs payment by Friday."
"Then I suggest we agree then."
He pulled out a pen.
"Isabella," he said calmly. "Are you in?"
Her name sounded strange in his voice. It sounded foreign and she couldn't help that she liked it.
She looked at the contract again and then signed.
The second the ink dried, she felt it: not excitement, not relief, something else.
As she'd just handed over a version of herself she might not get back.
Alex stood and opened a drawer. He brought out a small, velvet box. He opened it to reveal a ring.
It wasn't overly flashy, it was small perfect, and beautiful.
"For appearances, to make this look real," he said.
She held out her hand and he slipped it on. Izzy stared at the ring, it fitted her perfectly. Wait.. how did Alex know her ring size?
"There's a press interview tomorrow," he said, pulling her from her thoughts. "You'll be briefed."
"I know how to talk to the press."
"Not like this, you don't."
She sat back in the leather chair. "So what exactly are we supposed to be?"
"Happy," he said flatly. "Committed to each other and lovable."
"Sounds exhausting."
He smirked. "It will be."
Before she could answer, the door opened.
A tall man with a chiseled jaw and a smirk that said trouble stepped inside.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said, already looking Izzy over like he was trying to solve her.
Alex didn't flinch. "Nathan, this is Isabella Hart."
"The Izzy Hart?" Nathan said, stepping closer. "The one who made my inbox explode last night?"
He extended a hand toward Izzy.
"COO," he said. "Blackwood's cleaner and fixer. Also, the guy who'll be cleaning up whatever mess this arrangement makes."
Izzy shook his hand warily. "Nice to meet you... I think."
Nathan turned to Alex. "You really went through with it."
Alex's tone went cold. "Do you have something to say?"
"Just surprised," Nathan said, still smiling. "You usually see through people faster than this."
Izzy straightened. "Excuse me?"
Nathan held up his hands. "No offense. I'm sure you're great at pretending. That's why you're here, right?"
The room went silent. After a moment, Alex's voice cut through the tension.
"Don't test me, Nathan."
Izzy watched the two men stare each other down. Something unspoken passed between them.
Nathan finally turned away.
"See you at the briefing," he said over his shoulder. "Try not to scare her off before then."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Izzy turned to Alex. "That's your COO?"
"He's useful."
"He's a snake."
"He's loyal," Alex said. "To power."
Izzy stared at him. "So if I ever stop being useful, what happens to me?"
Alex looked at her for a long moment and then muttered quietly. "That depends on how real you let this get."