It was supposed to be a routine meeting.
A basic paperwork pickup at the downtown law office.
Ten minutes in, ten minutes out.
Anastasia Rae had no idea she was about to walk into her own wedding.
She pushed open the heavy glass door, glancing at the email again on her phone. "Pick up the signed design contract from Rowe & Partners. Conference Room 7A. 10:00 a.m."
Simple. Or so she thought.
The receptionist barely looked up before saying, "You're late. They're waiting in 7A. Just through the hallway, second on the left."
Ana frowned. They?
Maybe her client had brought someone along. Fine. She adjusted the strap of her bag and walked in.
The room was dimly lit, quiet, almost too quiet. A low hum of air conditioning, the scent of fresh flowers, and the strange presence of…witnesses?
Two unfamiliar older men in suits. A woman with a notepad. A priest-like figure in a collar. And a man standing by the window, tall and distant, dressed in a crisp charcoal-gray suit.
What the hell is this?
"Miss Rae," one of the suited men said with a smile, rising from the table. "Good. We can begin."
Ana opened her mouth. "Sorry, is this for the design—?"
The woman handed her a clipboard. "Sign here. Initial here. And here."
"Uh—can I read it first?"
"Of course. But the terms haven't changed."
Terms? What terms?
She scanned the contract. Her name: Anastasia Rae. Legal terms. Confidentiality. One year. "Dissolution clause upon expiration."
Wait.
Marriage?
Her eyes flicked up in disbelief. "This… this is a marriage license."
"Yes," the man near the window said, finally turning.
He stepped into the light.
Sharp cheekbones. Stormy gray eyes. Clean-shaven. Impossibly calm. Impossibly cold.
Ana's breath caught in her throat.
It was Christian Blake.
THE Christian Blake.
CEO of Blake Enterprises. One of the youngest billionaires in the country.
Infamous for his silence, feared for his precision, and somehow even more terrifying in person.
"Why… Why am I marrying you?" she asked, voice shaking.
Christian's eyes didn't waver. "Because the paperwork was filed under your name. And the press already knows."
"I think there's been a mistake."
"There's no mistake," he said flatly. "Only a deadline. And we've both already crossed it."
Ana looked down at the pen in her hand. The contract. The faces watching her.
And her world blurred.
In less than five minutes, she had unknowingly signed the biggest deal of her life.
She was now Mrs. Christian Blake.
To be continued...