"Marry me."
The words dropped like glass on marble—sharp, cold, impossible to ignore.
Aria Vale didn't look up right away. She stirred her coffee slowly, watching the cream spiral into the dark brew. The upscale café buzzed softly around them, but at this table, silence reigned.
When she finally lifted her gaze, her eyes met steel-gray ones—hard, unreadable, and far too familiar.
Leonhart Crane.
He sat across from her like a man closing a deal. Perfectly tailored suit. Watch worth more than her apartment. A jawline sculpted by God and ruthlessness alike.
"I don't marry strangers," Aria said coolly. "Try Tinder."
He didn't smile. "This isn't a joke."
"I gathered."
Leon leaned forward, folding his hands atop the table. "You need money. I need a wife. For six months. We both walk away richer."
Aria arched a brow. "You say that like you're not already obscenely rich."
He didn't deny it. "Then consider it a donation."
She scoffed, pushing her cup aside. "To what? The Society for Emotionally Stunted Billionaires?"
His lips twitched—almost a smirk, almost warmth. But it vanished as quickly as it came.
"I've reviewed your situation, Miss Vale. You have no family, no assets, no attachments. You work at a café under an assumed name. You're trying very hard not to be found."
Aria's spine stiffened.
He knows.
Her fingers itched to reach for the knife tucked in her coat sleeve. But no. Not here. Not yet.
"So you're blackmailing me into marriage," she said.
"I'm offering protection," Leon corrected. "And half a million dollars. Up front."
Her breath caught.
That much money could disappear her for good. No more moving every six months. No more aliases. No more looking over her shoulder for the past she thought she'd buried.
But marrying him?
Aria stared at Leon, really stared.
He didn't recognize her.
He didn't remember the girl in the red dress from three years ago—the one he'd saved at a party neither of them should've been at. The one he'd kissed like he was drowning and she was air. The one who disappeared before sunrise.
Aria hadn't forgotten. She never would.
And now he was here, asking for her hand with the same voice that once whispered her name like it mattered.
"What's in it for you?" she asked carefully.
Leon's expression didn't change. "A woman stepped forward claiming she's carrying my child. My board is pressuring me to appear stable. I need a wife, now. One with no past to be dragged through the press."
She could laugh at the irony. No past? She had more skeletons than a graveyard.
"You could choose anyone."
"I choose you."
Why?
But she didn't ask. Because deep down, Aria knew fate didn't deal second chances. It gave you hard choices wrapped in bitter irony.
"If I say yes," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "we keep our lives separate. No questions. No expectations."
Leon nodded. "Understood."
"And when it ends, you forget I ever existed."
This time, his eyes flickered.
He held out his hand.
Aria stared at it.
Once, his hand had held hers under moonlight. Once, it had pulled her from a burning car. Once, it had brushed against her cheek like she was made of something breakable.
Now it offered a deal with the devil.
She took it.
His grip was firm. Cold.
The contract had begun.
Neither noticed the woman snapping photos from across the café.
Nor the message being sent to a shadowed number:
She's resurfaced. The girl you wanted found. She just shook hands with Leonhart Crane.