The Billionaire Bargain's Bride

The ballroom's laughter was drowned out by the sound of crystal breaking against marble.

With her fingers clenched tightly around the stem of an empty champagne flute, Sera Calloway stood motionless. No, she had dropped it; it had slipped. Not by chance. Not at all. However, nobody took notice. They were too preoccupied with clinking their glasses and making unfulfilled promises.

Above her, the chandeliers glistened like mocking stars. Her world, this world, was falling apart. Only she could hear the collapse because it was happening so softly.

A waiter smiled nervously but politely as he hurried to clear away the glass fragments.

"Are you okay, Miss Calloway?" he said softly.

She forced a smile as she blinked. "Obviously. Just awkward this evening."

Before he could say anything more, she left, her heels clicking steadily on the floor as though nothing had changed. As though nothing had changed.

Another alert came as her phone buzzed against her wrist.

THE CALL WAS DENIED. The account is frozen.

Today's third.

Sera pulled up the app and slipped away from the crowd into one of the side corridors. Five numbers. Every zero.

She trembled her fingers.

She had no money.

No. Even worse. Her family was broke. And ashamed.

The Calloways, who owned the century-old Calloway Luxe line and were once considered Manhattan's golden family, were now in the news. Not for their empire of fashion. Not because they are charitable. However, this was because her father, Ezra Calloway, had recently been found guilty of embezzlement, fraud, and what the attorneys referred to as "willful deception of shareholders" and was sentenced to sixteen years in federal prison.

Sera was aware of the reality.

They had set him up. She was certain. However, the world doesn't wait for facts when it wants a villain. It's just cheers and points. Leaning against the wall, she took a deep breath and fought back the tears she hadn't had time to shed. Her mum was taking sedatives. Her younger brother was acting as though nothing was going on. Additionally, Sera, the brand's spokesperson and eldest, had been left to clean up a scandal-plagued legacy.

She had even been shunned by her supposed friends. She was now shunned at brunch by the same women who had once tagged her in their stories and imitated her lip colour. Even though she had always known that New York was erratic, betrayal still hurt when it came to staged hugs and manicured smiles.

Once more, her phone buzzed.

It was different this time.

Unidentified: You've been asked. Midnight. Put on black. No enquiries. Examine the glove box.

She furrowed her brows. What?

Even though Sera's Bentley was in a valet, curiosity won out. Before the speeches started, she told the driver she needed air and left the gala, heading into the night.

When she opened the car, the parking lot was almost deserted. A sleek black envelope with no return address was found inside the glove box.

One black card was inside. Letters in gold foil:

THE AUCTION

Private. Be discreet. Just one night.

Where: revealed upon RSVP

Dress Code: Stylish Philanthropy is the necessary cause with benefits.

No phone number. No webpage.

Her stomach churned. It felt like a trap, but lately, everything seems to be a trap.

However...

Calloways did not reject invitations. They overcame them.

Before making her choice, she spent several minutes in her car staring at the card. What more could one night take after all she had lost? Her standing? It was gone already. The wealth of her family? Destroyed. She had to see if there was any hope at all in that card.

By midnight, Sera was standing in Midtown in front of a huge iron gate. Without a word, a man in black opened it. The structure was a palace inside, dimly lit, with gold accents and a scent reminiscent of roses and money.

She didn't enquire. Not to, the card had warned.

She was met with a tight smile from a woman dressed in silver. "Miss Calloway. This way."

They were aware of her identity.

They did, of course.

She was led into a room with floor-to-ceiling glass and a crowd too refined for television after passing a lengthy hallway lined with paintings valued at millions of dollars.

Sera had attended diplomatic dinners, launch parties, and elite galas. However, this was not like the others. No cameras. Not a press. Just power-faceless, unrepentant power.

And on the stage... women.

All dressed in black. They're all pinned with numbers.

She stopped.

What is this?

The host said into a crystal microphone, "Welcome to the final round. Tonight, your kindness helps a few private causes and foundations. For a one-night-only event, our most beautiful volunteers will be auctioned off. No conditions. Just charity... with benefits."

The crowd laughed.

Sera's throat closed.

A woman appeared beside her, placed a small card into her hand.

"Eleven is your number."

With a voice hardly audible above a whisper, Sera declared, "I didn't sign up."

The female leaned closer. "You were not required to. You were signed in by someone. An individual sponsor."

The lights went down before Sera could react.

The auction started.

Paddles rising, the audience muttering, women crossed the stage with exquisite grace. The amounts were lewd. Fifty thousand. Ninety. A hundred and twenty-five was even crossed by one.

There was silence in the room as Number Ten stepped off the stage.

The host grinned indulgently and said, "And now, Number Eleven."

The world came to a halt when Sera entered the light.

A couple of gasps. A couple of murmurs. They knew who she was. They did, of course.

The disgraced Calloway heiress.

The room leaned in on her. Some are hungry. Some mockingly. Some with calculating, cold interest.

The voice then emerged.

"Two million."

There was a gasp in the room.

The host gave a blink. "Pardon me?"

The measured, composed, and even bored voice repeated, "I said two million dollars. USD. Regarding Eleven. And just to be clear, this isn't for a night."

More murmurs.

The voice went on.

"For a year of marriage, I'm offering two million dollars."

The audience muttered incredulously and laughed.

With her heart racing, Sera's head jerked towards the throng.

Who the devil-?

Then she caught sight of him.

Wolfe, Cassian.

Tall. A sharp suit. Ice-blue eyes. A face she had never forgotten, but hadn't seen in three years.

The Wolfes were old money. Older than the Calloways. Before her father cancelled a joint merger that would have cost the Wolfes millions of dollars, they had been business partners.

Throughout the auction, Cassian had avoided eye contact with her. So far.

Their gazes met.

He grinned.

Not in a friendly manner. Not in a mean way.

In a strategic manner.

Sera gasped.

This was not a bid. It was a power move.

She later confronted him in a private lounge that resembled the hideout of a Bond villain.

"You're crazy," she muttered.

Cassian did not offer her a drink, but he did pour one.

He declared, "I'm offering you freedom. No media. Not a scandal. Don't beg for loans."

Trying to maintain a steady voice, she crossed her arms. "For a fictitious marriage?"

"For a transaction that benefits both parties," he clarified. "You receive two million. Your family makes it through. Additionally, I get to make some corrections."

Sera's eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

Cassian looked her in the eye. "Like taking down the brand your dad tried to destroy with mine."

It was there.

The reality.

He had no desire for a wife. He desired retribution.

"Why me?" she enquired.

He said coolly, "Because you're the face of the Calloway name now. And the only one with the strength to carry it into the fire."

Sera stood, shaking. "I am not a pawn."

Cassian's smile was incredibly thin. "No. The queen is you. However, queens are also subject to sacrifice."

With every instinct urging her to flee, she gazed at him.

However, she thought of her broken and sedated mother. Her brother is still enrolled in school. In a cell, her father, rotting.

She let out a slow exhale.

"All right," she said. "A year. Not a day longer."

Cassian extended his hand.

"Agree."

The agreement was sealed when her fingers touched his.

Sera Calloway was suddenly the property of the man who had come to destroy her entire world.