The sunlight in the Sterling townhouse didn't just shine; it interrogated. It bounced off the white marble floors and hit my pounding head with the force of a physical blow.
I was sitting at a breakfast table that could have seated a small village, staring at a plate of eggs that looked too perfect to eat. I was still wearing my emerald silk dress from the night before, though I'd finally managed to unhook the diamond necklace that had felt like a shimmering noose.
"You look like hell," a voice drifted across the room.
I didn't even turn. I knew that voice. It was the sound of a man who woke up every morning with five million dollars and zero regrets. Reid Sterling walked in, wearing a crisp white shirt and a scowl.
"Good morning to you, too, Reid," I muttered, pushing a piece of toast around my plate. "I spent three hours being poked by stylists and another four being stared at by people who think I'm a gold-digging parasite. Forgive me if I didn't wake up glowing."
Reid sat down at the head of the table, not even glancing at the food. He opened a laptop and started typing with a clinical precision that made my teeth ache. "The tabloids are already calling you the 'Diner Cinderella.' Cassandra Vance's PR team is probably drafting a counter-narrative as we speak. You need to get used to the staring."
"I'm used to being stared at, Reid. I've worked in a diner since I was seventeen," I said, my voice rising. "But I'm not used to being a weapon in your family's civil war."
He stopped typing. His gray eyes flicked up, locking onto mine. "You aren't a weapon, Maya. You're the insurance policy. And right now, the insurance policy needs to move its things into the master suite."
I nearly choked on my coffee. "The what?"
"The board of directors sent a private investigator to the townhouse this morning to 'verify' our living arrangements," Reid said, his voice flat. "If they find you sleeping in the guest wing with your dusty suitcase and your mother's locket, the contract is void. And if the contract is void, you go back to the diner, and I lose the company."
He stood up, walking toward me until he was towering over my chair. He smelled like expensive coffee and cold determination. "We have one year. One year of sharing a room. One year of convincing the world that I am a changed man because of you."
"We never agreed to share a room," I hissed, standing up to meet his gaze. I felt the grit in my voice—the raw, human defiance that an AI could never fake. "The contract said 'marriage in name only.' It didn't say 'sleep in the lion's den.'"
"The lion's den has a king-sized bed and a lock on the door," Reid countered, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "Choose, Maya. The guest room and the debt, or the master suite and the five million."
I looked at him—really looked at him. He was a man who had everything and trusted no one. And I was a girl who had nothing and was being forced to trust him.
Before I could answer, the heavy double doors of the dining room swung open. Arthur Sterling stood there, leaning heavily on his cane, a triumphant smirk on his pale face.
"I see you two are already arguing like a real married couple," Arthur chuckled, though the sound ended in a ragged cough. "Wonderful. The photographer will be here at noon for the official engagement portraits."
Reid and I shared a look of pure, mutual exhaustion.
"Portraits, Father?" Reid asked.
"The world wants to see the woman who tamed the Ice King," Arthur said, winking at me. "Make it look convincing, children. The sharks are circling."
I looked down at my chapped knuckles, then at the emerald silk, and finally at Reid. "I hope you're good at faking a smile, Mr. Sterling. Because I'm about to make you look like the happiest man on earth, even if it kills us both."
Author's Note:
And so it begins! 🏠 Single room, two people who can't stand each other, and a five-million-dollar secret.
Writing this chapter made me realize just how much of a "lion" Reid really is—but Maya isn't exactly a lamb, is she? I loved writing her reaction to the master suite. It's one thing to sign a paper; it's another to share a zip code with a man like Reid Sterling!
Question for my readers: If you were offered $5 million to marry someone you hated for a year, would you do it? Or is some debt just not worth the headache? Let me know in the comments!
Don't forget to add BFMDD to your library
— Sophia Theaddus