Arabella stood in the dimly lit study, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of the mahogany desk. Across from her sat Alexander Knight, calm and unreadable, flipping through the contract like he was reviewing a routine document—not one that would determine the course of both their lives.
She had read the fine print twice already. Every clause. Every condition. Yet still, the weight of it pressed on her like a mountain.
"You really expect me to sign this?" she asked, her voice tight.
Alexander's eyes rose slowly to meet hers. "You came here with a plan, Arabella. You wanted protection, security, and above all—an opportunity. This contract offers you all of that."
"Yes," she admitted. "But I didn't think you'd be so… calculated."
He leaned back, the light catching the sharp lines of his jaw. "This is business. You should know that by now."
Arabella had spent days agonizing over what she would do if Alexander offered her a deal. She thought she'd be prepared for anything. But what she hadn't expected was how personal it all felt. The man who once looked at her with such cold detachment now wanted to bind her to him—for one year. A marriage in name only. No emotions. No attachments. Just appearances.
Clause 1: She was to live with him in his penthouse.
Clause 2: Attend public events as his wife.
Clause 3: Keep their arrangement secret from the media.
Clause 4: No romantic involvement with anyone else.
Clause 5: Under no circumstance should she fall in love.
The last clause felt like a knife twisting in her chest.
"I'll only do this," Arabella said slowly, "if you add one more condition."
Alexander's brow lifted. "I'm listening."
"I want full control over my freedom when this contract ends. No surveillance. No connections. You cut ties with me completely. I don't want to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. The ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner felt deafening.
Then Alexander nodded once. "Done."
Arabella blinked. "That's it?"
"I'm a man of my word. And I know when not to push too far."
His agreement left her momentarily disarmed. She had expected resistance, maybe even a smirk or a cold dismissal. But Alexander simply returned his gaze to the contract and pulled a pen from the drawer.
He slid it across the table toward her.
Arabella hesitated only for a moment before picking up the pen and signing her name.
Arabella Blake.
As the ink dried on the paper, she felt something inside her shift. The reborn woman she had become just entered into a deal with the very man whose world had once shattered hers.
---
Later that evening, Arabella sat on the edge of the guestroom bed in Alexander's penthouse, her thoughts churning.
She was officially Mrs. Knight now—at least on paper.
Elina had called earlier, demanding updates, but Arabella had ignored the call. She wasn't ready to explain any of this. Not yet. Not until she understood the full scope of what she'd agreed to.
There was a knock on the door.
She rose and opened it to find Alexander standing there, sleeves rolled up, no tie, his shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar. He looked… less intimidating like this.
"I brought you something," he said, holding out a small black box.
Arabella took it cautiously. Inside was a platinum wedding band.
"You expect me to wear this?" she asked.
"It's for appearances. Events. Public sightings. That's all."
She studied the ring in the soft velvet. It was beautiful—understated, elegant, expensive. Just like everything in Alexander's world.
With a small nod, she took it and slid it onto her finger.
"Why me?" she asked quietly. "You could've chosen any woman to fake-marry. A model. An actress. Someone who knows how to play pretend."
Alexander's eyes didn't waver. "Because I trust you."
Arabella laughed bitterly. "You don't know me."
"I know enough," he replied. "You're not after my money. You don't care about power or influence. You've already lost everything, and yet you're still standing. That matters to me."
His words stunned her. For a brief second, she thought she saw something genuine in his expression. But it was gone too quickly.
"You have your own room," he said, stepping back. "We'll keep things separate. Unless public appearances demand otherwise."
Arabella nodded. "Understood."
As he turned and walked away, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, trying to steady her breath.
Trust.
She wasn't sure what shocked her more—his admission or the flutter in her chest when he said it.
---
The next morning, Arabella sat at the breakfast bar, dressed in a silk robe she found hanging in the wardrobe. It fit perfectly, which both impressed and unsettled her. Alexander Knight was thorough to a fault.
The maid—Marisol, a quiet, older woman—served her a light breakfast and offered a polite nod before disappearing.
Arabella picked at her toast, distracted. Her phone buzzed.
Elina: Answer me! Where are you?! You disappeared!
Arabella sighed and finally replied.
Arabella: I'm safe. I'll explain everything soon. Just… trust me.
She didn't want to lie to Elina, but how could she explain this arrangement? The contract? The marriage?
Just then, Alexander walked in, dressed in a tailored suit, looking like he stepped out of a luxury fashion ad.
"Good morning," he said, picking up a mug of black coffee.
Arabella nodded. "Where are you headed?"
"Board meeting. You're coming with me."
She blinked. "What?"
"We're married now, Arabella. Our first public appearance as a couple matters."
She stood, nearly dropping her toast. "You didn't mention anything about that today."
"Last-minute change. I need you by my side." He took a sip. "You can handle it, right?"
His tone wasn't mocking, but it wasn't exactly warm either.
"I can handle anything," she replied, squaring her shoulders.
"Good." He glanced at his watch. "You have twenty minutes to get ready. I left an outfit for you in your closet. Wear it."
---
The drive to Knight Corporation headquarters was quiet. Arabella sat beside Alexander in the back seat of the sleek black Rolls-Royce, her nerves simmering beneath her calm exterior.
When they arrived, the attention was immediate. Paparazzi flashed cameras as the couple stepped out, arms linked, picture-perfect.
Arabella kept her smile subtle, her posture poised. She could feel the eyes of every journalist, employee, and executive on her.
Inside the boardroom, whispers followed them. Arabella felt the judgment—the curiosity.
Alexander introduced her simply. "This is my wife, Arabella Knight. She'll be accompanying me to key events moving forward."
Some board members nodded. Others raised eyebrows. But no one challenged him.
Arabella held her head high, her presence dignified and graceful.
As the meeting began, she sat beside him, silent but attentive. Her gaze occasionally met his as he spoke, commanding the room like a born leader.
She hated to admit it, but Alexander Knight had a kind of charisma that was magnetic.
When the meeting ended, he leaned close and whispered, "You did well."
A strange warmth spread through her chest.
"Don't get used to compliments," he added, smirking slightly as he led her out of the room.
---
That evening, Arabella stood on the balcony of the penthouse, looking out at the glittering city lights. The ring still sat on her finger, cold and heavy.
Alexander joined her, holding a glass of scotch.
"Was today too much?" he asked.
"No," she replied honestly. "I've faced worse."
A beat passed before she turned to him. "This contract… it may protect me for now, but eventually, I'll have to face my past."
"You won't have to face it alone," he said, surprising her.
Their eyes locked.
Arabella wasn't sure what their marriage would become—or what she'd discover along the way—but for now, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Safe.
Even if it was only temporary.