Two days passed. Two days that Leo spent checking his email every five minutes, his heart oscillating between a sick sort of hope and a profound feeling of stupidity. They must have thought he was just some kid playing a prank. But on the evening of the second day, the reply came.
The email from "Goodman & Associates" was so formal and concise it was terrifying. There was no emotion, just an invitation. An invitation to a "preliminary and confidential" meeting at their offices in downtown Seattle, the next day, at eleven o'clock in the morning. He was instructed to bring proof of identity and to be prepared to sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) before any discussion could begin.
Fear and excitement churned in Leo's stomach. So, it was real. Real enough to involve lawyers and confidentiality agreements. He spent the night tossing and turning, running through every possible scenario, from meeting a wealthy, eccentric businessman to falling victim to a human trafficking ring. But the image of his overdue bills was enough to push him toward hoping for the former.
The next morning, he stood in front of his limited wardrobe, at a loss. Most of his clothes were paint-stained t-shirts, oversized hoodies, or daring pieces unsuitable for meeting a lawyer. In the end, he borrowed a simple white button-down shirt from his roommate and paired it with dark jeans in a desperate attempt to look "responsible." He looked in the mirror. He looked like a kid playing dress-up as an adult, but it was the best he could do.
The offices of "Goodman & Associates" occupied an entire floor of a glass skyscraper. Everything inside screamed wealth and power: polished marble floors, dark leather furniture, and the faint scent of polished wood and old paper. Leo felt himself shrink the moment he stepped inside. A receptionist with a robotic smile greeted him and led him to a small meeting room overlooking the city.
A few moments later, a man in his fifties entered, wearing an impeccable suit. This was Mr. Goodman. He shook Leo's hand with a cool, firm grip and gestured for him to sit.
"Mr. Vance," Goodman began without any preamble. "I appreciate you coming. As mentioned, this matter is highly confidential. Before we discuss any details, I'll need you to sign this agreement."
He placed a document in front of him. Leo read it quickly. It forbade him from disclosing anything about this meeting, the client's identity, or the nature of the offer, under penalty of exorbitant fines. A chill ran down his spine, but he signed it. He was past the point of no return.
Mr. Goodman gave a faint, satisfied smile. "Excellent. Now, let's speak plainly. My client is a very private and high-profile individual. Due to urgent personal circumstances, he needs to enter into a legal marriage contract for a term of one year. The terms are straightforward: you will live in his residence, and all your expenses will be covered. There will be no expectations… of a romantic or physical nature. This is purely a business transaction. At the end of the year, if all conditions have been met, you will receive a life-changing sum of money."
Leo swallowed hard. "And the conditions?"
"Absolute discretion. A facade of loyalty in public, should it ever be necessary, which is unlikely. And most importantly, an understanding that this is not a fairytale. This is a job."
Leo nodded slowly, trying to process it all. "And who is your client?"
"He is waiting for us now. If you are still interested after everything you've heard, we will proceed to the next step."
The meeting was arranged in a private room at an upscale, quiet café—neutral ground to minimize tension. Kian arrived first. He was wearing a black hoodie and dark jeans, looking as though he'd come to meet another programmer, not a potential spouse. He sat with his back to the door, scrolling through his phone with an air of boredom, his annoyance at the whole situation written in the crease of his brow. He was expecting to meet someone desperate, or perhaps a greedy scammer. He was prepared to shut it down in five minutes.
Then, the door opened.
Mr. Goodman entered first, followed by another young man. Kian slowly looked up, and for a moment, his brain simply stopped working.
He hadn't been expecting… this.
It wasn't a desperate or greedy man. He was… bright. Messy blond hair framed a face with soft features, and wide, green eyes looked around with cautious curiosity. He was wearing a simple white shirt, but it couldn't hide the gentle curves of the lithe body beneath it. There was something vibrant and chaotic about him, like an abstract painting in a museum full of straight lines. Kian felt an immediate annoyance—annoyance at the fact that his first reaction wasn't rejection, but an unwelcome sort of intrigue.
From Leo's perspective, the man sitting before him was terrifying. He was handsome in a dark, sharp-edged way, with black hair and dark eyes that scanned him coldly, as if he were a piece of furniture up for auction. An "do not approach" aura surrounded him. Leo felt his heart flutter, and this time, it wasn't just about the contract.
Leo sat opposite Kian, with Mr. Goodman at the head of the small table. The silence was thick and awkward.
Kian broke it first, his voice deep and devoid of warmth. "So, you're Leo Vance."
It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.
"Yes," Leo replied, trying to make his smile look natural. "And you are…?"
"My name is irrelevant at this stage," Kian cut in sharply. "What's relevant is whether you understand the nature of this deal. This isn't dating. This is a job. You will live in my house, you will follow my rules, and at the end of the year, you will take your money and disappear from my life. Is that clear?"
Leo was taken aback by the bluntness. His smile vanished. "Perfectly."
"Good. My rules are simple," Kian continued, his eyes locked on Leo. "Don't touch my things. Don't enter my personal space, which includes my office and my bedroom. Don't ask personal questions. We will be roommates, barely."
Kian expected the young man to falter or argue, but Leo just nodded, his green eyes holding an unreadable expression. There was a faint defiance behind his soft exterior.
"And do you have any rules?" Kian asked with a hint of sarcasm.
Leo thought for a moment, then looked directly at him. For the first time, their eyes truly met. Kian felt a small jolt, an irritating spark that disrupted his focus. Leo's eyes weren't just innocent; they were intelligent.
"I just have one rule," Leo said quietly. "Don't be an asshole to me for no reason. We can be professional, can't we?"
Kian stared. The response surprised him. It wasn't submissive or pleading. It was… direct.
He studied the young man again. He could see the faint desperation in his eyes, but he also saw pride. This wasn't what he'd expected. But time was running out. And this young man, in all his bright chaos, was his only option.
Kian leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'll do."
Leo looked at him, confused. "I'll do what?"
"You're hired for the position," Kian said coldly. "The lawyer will have the contract ready. Be prepared to move in by the end of the week. Are you in, or are you wasting my time?"
He left the question hanging in the air, like a final test. Leo's decision now would not only determine his financial future, but it would also thrust him into the world of a man who was mysterious, cold, and unbelievably intimidating.