The Billionaire's Contract Heiress

Aria Scott stared at the number on her phone. $200,000. That's how much her father's surgery would cost. And she had exactly $47.23 in her bank account.

"Excuse me, miss? Your order is ready."

She looked up at the café counter, her tired eyes meeting the barista's. She'd been working at this coffee shop for three years, pouring lattes and smiling at rude customers who never tipped.

"Thanks, Tom." She grabbed the tray and walked toward the corner table where a man in a black suit sat with his laptop.

He was always here. Every day. Same table. Same black coffee. Same cold, blank expression that made her want to throw something at his perfect face.

Christian Knight. She knew who he was. Everyone did. The 29-year-old billionaire CEO of Knight Corp, voted "Most Eligible Bachelor in New York" three years running. And also "Most Ruthless" four years running.

He never looked at her. Never said thank you. Just drank his coffee and typed on his laptop like the rest of the world didn't exist.

"Here you go," she said, placing the cup down. "Black. No sugar. Just like you."

Okay, so she couldn't help the sass. Sue her. She was having a really bad day.

Christian's eyes flicked up to her for the first time in months. Cold, gray, like a storm about to break.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." She turned away.

"Aria!"

She froze at the voice coming from her phone. It was Dr. Reynolds. Her father's doctor.

"I'm sorry to call again," he said. "But we need a decision by tomorrow. The surgery... it's his only chance."

Aria's hand shook. "I'm working on it, Dr. Reynolds. I promise. I just need a little more-"

"Listen to me." The doctor's voice was gentle but firm. "If you can't pay by Friday, we'll have to move him out of the ICU. And without the proper care, he won't survive."

The words hit her like a punch to the chest.

"Friday. I'll find it. I swear."

She hung up, her vision blurring with tears. She couldn't cry here. Not at work. Not in front of customers.

She turned to grab the tray and found Christian Knight staring at her.

"Problem?" she snapped, defensive.

"Your father." His voice was low, smooth, like dark chocolate. "He's sick?"

"That's none of your business."

"I heard what you said. Two hundred thousand dollars?"

Aria clenched her jaw. "I said it's none of your business."

Christian closed his laptop. "I can help."

She laughed bitterly. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England."

"I'm serious."

"Look, Mr. Knight, I don't know what kind of games billionaires play, but I'm not interested. I'm not some charity case you can throw money at to feel better about yourself."

For the first time, something flickered in his cold eyes. Amusement? No... something darker.

"I don't do charity," he said. "I do business."

"I don't have anything you want."

"Oh, but you do." He stood, and suddenly the café felt much smaller. At six-foot-three, he towered over her petite frame. "I need a wife."

Aria blinked. "What?"

"A contract wife. Thirty days. No feelings. No complications. You'll live with me, attend events with me, play the role of my loving wife. In exchange, I'll give you one million dollars."

She stared at him, certain she'd misheard. "One... million?"

"Tax-free. Paid in full upfront. You can save your father tonight."

Her heart raced. It was a trick. It had to be a trick.

"Why me?" she asked. "You could have any woman you want. Supermodels. Heiresses. Actresses."

"They want more than money. They want my soul." His lips curved into a cruel smile. "You just want to save your dad. Simple. Clean. Temporary."

"Thirty days?"

"Thirty days. No sex. No romance. Just... appearances."

Aria's mind spun. One million dollars. Her father's life. Thirty days with the most dangerous man in New York.

"What's the catch?"

"The catch is me." He stepped closer, and she caught his scent-cedar and something else. Something dangerous. "I have enemies. Being my wife means being a target."

"I can handle myself."

"We'll see." He pulled out a folded paper from his pocket. A contract. "Sign this, or watch your father die."

Her breath caught.

"Tonight. Your father's hospital. I'll transfer the funds as soon as you sign." He placed a pen on the contract. "What's it going to be, Aria Scott? Your father's life... or your pride?"

Aria looked at the contract. Then at him. Then at her phone, where a picture of her father in that hospital bed haunted her every waking moment.

She picked up the pen.

"Just so we're clear," she said, signing her name with a shaking hand. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for him."

Christian smiled-a real smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And just so we're clear... for the next thirty days, you're mine. Only mine."

He grabbed her hand before she could react. His touch was electric.

"Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Knight."

CLIFFHANGER: As they walked out of the café, a black car pulled up. The window rolled down, revealing a man with a scar across his face. "Well, well. If it isn't the great Christian Knight. I heard you were looking for a wife. Funny... I heard your father was looking for one too. Right before he killed that woman."

Christian's grip on Aria's hand tightened to the point of pain.

"Aria, get in the car. Now."

"What? Who is-"

"Get in the car!" he roared.

The man laughed. "See you soon, Mrs. Knight. Tell your new husband... I'll be watching."