Maya's POV
Damon Blackridge moved through my apartment like a predator surveying territory—graceful, controlled, dangerous. He took in the ramen cups, the empty space where Lauren's furniture used to be, the eviction notice on my table.
His expression revealed nothing.
Sit, he said, gesturing to my own kitchen table like he owned it.
This is my apartment.
For now. He pulled out a chair and sat, his golden eyes never leaving mine. In thirty days, it won't be. Unless you accept my offer.
Anger flared through my exhaustion. You show up uninvited, claim to know everything about my life, and now you're threatening me?
I'm stating facts. His voice remained infuriatingly calm. You have four days until your board hearing. No lawyer. No evidence to counter Richard's lies. No money. No options. He leaned forward slightly. Except one. Me.
I wanted to throw him out. Wanted to scream that I didn't need help from strange men with impossible eyes and too much knowledge.
But my bank account said otherwise.
I sat down across from him. What do you want?
Two weeks of your time.
For what?
Damon reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather folder, sliding it across the table. I need a girlfriend for a business summit. Someone to smile when appropriate, look devoted, help me maintain appearances with my associates.
I stared at him. You're paying me to be your fake girlfriend?
Yes.
That's... I searched for words. That's insane. People don't do that.
People do all sorts of things when properly motivated. He tapped the folder. Open it.
My hands shook as I lifted the cover. Inside was a contract, dense legal text on expensive paper. And clipped to the front, a check.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
The numbers blurred. I blinked, certain I'd read it wrong.
Still five hundred thousand.
That's your signing bonus, Damon said quietly. Deposited immediately upon agreement. Another five hundred thousand when the job is complete.
A million dollars. My voice came out strangled. To be your girlfriend for two weeks.
To play the role convincingly. There's a difference.
I looked up at him, my mind racing. This has to be illegal. Money laundering or trafficking or—
Read the contract. Everything is legal, binding, and protected. You're free to have a lawyer review it. His slight smile returned. Though I assume you can't afford one at the moment.
The cruel truth of that statement cut deep.
Why me? I demanded. If you need a fake girlfriend, hire an actress. A model. Anyone. Why track down some random ER doctor?
You're not random. Something flickered in those golden eyes. You saved my life when you had every reason not to. I was John Doe—no insurance, no family, no one to advocate for me. You fought for me anyway. That kind of dedication, that refusal to give up—I need that beside me at this summit.
What kind of business summit requires a fake girlfriend?
The kind where appearances matter more than reality. Where showing weakness means destruction. His jaw tightened slightly. My associates are ruthless, Maya. They respect power and partnerships. A man alone is vulnerable. A man with a devoted partner is formidable.
This sounds like organized crime.
It's not. But it is dangerous. He held my gaze. I won't lie to you about that. The people you'll meet are powerful, volatile, and they don't tolerate weakness. You'll need to be convincing. Completely convincing.
Or what?
Or we both pay a price neither of us wants.
Fear crawled up my spine. What kind of price?
Damon was quiet for a long moment. The kind that makes Richard Castellan's betrayal look like a mercy.
The apartment felt too small suddenly. Too hot.
You're trying to scare me.
I'm being honest. He leaned back, his posture relaxed but his eyes intense. This job pays a million dollars because it's not simple. Because there are risks. Because if you fail to play the role convincingly, there are consequences.
What consequences?
That depends on how badly you fail. His voice remained steady. But I promise you this—I will protect you to the best of my ability. And my ability is considerable.
I looked at the check again. Five hundred thousand dollars. Enough to hire the best lawyers. Fight Richard. Clear my name. Start over.
Or enough to run. Leave this city, change my name, build a new life somewhere Richard's poison couldn't reach.
Why do you need a fake girlfriend? I asked again. What's really going on?
I can't tell you that until you sign.
That's not how this works
That's exactly how this works. Steel entered his voice. You want answers? Sign the contract. You want safety and normalcy? Walk away right now and face your board hearing alone.
You're manipulating me.
I'm offering you a choice. He stood, towering over me. A choice between certain destruction and possible salvation. Yes, there are risks. Yes, there are things I can't tell you yet. But that check is real, Maya. The money is real. And it's the only lifeline you're going to get.
I hated that he was right. Hated that I was desperate enough to consider this. Hated that a million dollars could make me overlook every red flag screaming danger.
But Richard's face flashed through my mind. His smug smile. His confident destruction of everything I'd built.
And Lauren's cold voice: Maybe now you'll know what struggling feels like.
What exactly would I have to do? I asked quietly.
Damon sat back down, sensing my weakening resolve. Attend the summit with me. Stay by my side. Smile when appropriate. Touch me affectionately. Laugh at my jokes. Look devoted—like I'm the most important person in your world. Make my associates believe we're genuinely together.
For two weeks.
Fourteen days. Then you're free, rich, and able to rebuild your life however you choose.
And if I can't play the role? If someone figures out we're faking?
His expression darkened. Then we handle it. Together.
Not exactly reassuring.
I flipped through the contract, scanning the dense legal language. Confidentiality clauses. Non-disclosure agreements. Stipulations about physical proximity, public behavior, maintaining the illusion of a romantic relationship.
Page four, section two: Physical proximity required to maintain relationship authenticity, including but not limited to: shared accommodations, public displays of affection, and constant companionship throughout the duration of the agreement.
Shared accommodations? My voice rose. You mean
We'll share a suite. One bed. Appearances matter to my associates. They'll expect us to be inseparable.
I'm not sleeping with you!
I'm not asking you to. His tone remained infuriatingly calm. I'm asking you to share a room and play a role convincingly. What happens, or doesn't happen, behind closed doors is between us. But in public, you need to look like a woman who's completely devoted to me.
My face burned. This is insane.
Yes. It is. He leaned forward. But insane problems require insane solutions. You're facing the destruction of your career, your reputation, your entire future. Richard Castellan has made sure no hospital will touch you, no colleague will support you, no opportunity will open for you in this city. He's won, Maya. Unless you do something dramatic to change the game.
And your offer is the dramatic solution?
It's the only solution. His golden eyes held mine. Sign the contract. Take the money. Fight back. Or refuse, face your hearing alone, and let Richard watch you fall apart exactly the way he planned.
The choice was impossible. Terrifying. Wrong in every way.
But he was right about one thing—it was my only option.
I picked up the pen, my hand trembling.
If this goes wrong, I said quietly, if you're lying or manipulating me or leading me into something worse than what I'm already facing
You'll what? You're a five-foot-six doctor with no resources and no allies. What exactly would you do to me?
His bluntness was somehow refreshing after two weeks of pitying looks and false sympathy.
I'd find a way to make you regret it, I said firmly.
A real smile touched his lips—the first genuine expression I'd seen. I believe you would. Which is another reason I chose you.
I looked at the signature line. At the check for half a million dollars. At the impossible choice between certain destruction and uncertain danger.
And I signed my name.
The moment the pen left the paper, Damon took the contract, folded it carefully, and tucked it back into his jacket.
The money will be in your account within the hour. He stood. We leave in three days. Pack light—everything you need will be provided. Dress professionally. Bring nothing electronic except your phone.
Wait, I don't even know where we're going
The Summit Grounds. A private estate several hours from here. He moved toward the door. My associate will arrive tomorrow morning at nine to prepare you. His name is Kieran. Do exactly what he tells you. Your survival may depend on it.
Survival? Fear spiked through me. You said this was dangerous, not deadly
I said there would be consequences for failure. How severe those consequences are depends entirely on how convincingly you play your role. He paused at the door. One more thing, Maya. From the moment you signed that contract, you belong to me. In public, in private, for the next two weeks—you're mine. Get used to that idea.
The possessiveness in his voice should have terrified me.
Instead, it sent heat through my body that I absolutely did not want to examine.
I'm nobody's property, I said.
For the next two weeks, you are. It's in the contract, page seven, section five. His smile was slight, dangerous. Sleep well, Dr. Reeves. Tomorrow, your real education begins.
He walked out, closing the door softly behind him.
I stood alone in my apartment, staring at the contract I'd signed, wondering what I'd just agreed to.
My phone buzzed thirty minutes later.
Deposit: $500,000.00
I stared at the notification until my vision blurred.
It was real. The money was actually real.
I'd just sold two weeks of my life to a dangerous stranger for half a million dollars.
And I had no idea whether I'd made the best decision of my life or signed my own death warrant.