At 4 AM, I found something interesting. A brief mention in a business journal from eight years ago. Adrian had been named in a lawsuit by former Blackwood business partners who claimed he'd orchestrated a hostile takeover using "manipulated financial data and coercive tactics." The case had been settled out of court, details sealed.
I sat back in my chair, a chill running through me. The article about my family's bankruptcy had used similar language. Manipulated reports. Financial coercion.
Was it possible? Had Adrian engineered our downfall just to force me into this marriage?
But that made no sense. Why go through such elaborate lengths? He could have any woman he wanted.
My phone alarm chimed at seven. Time to get ready for the lunch that would determine the rest of my life.
I chose my armor carefully. A tailored black dress by Alexander McQueen sophisticated, expensive, severe. Red heels that added three inches to my five-foot-six frame. Hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Minimal jewelry, just the diamond studs my grandmother left me.
In the mirror, I looked every inch the CFO I was. Professional. Untouchable. In control.
The mask I needed to get through this.
My driver one of the few luxuries we hadn't liquidated yet dropped me at Aureole at exactly 12:55 PM. I'd deliberately arrived early. It was a small power play, but I needed every advantage I could get.
The restaurant was one of Manhattan's finest, all floor-to-ceiling windows and modern elegance. The maître d' recognized me immediately.
"Ms. Chen, Mr. Blackwood is already here. This way, please."
My stomach dropped. Of course he'd arrived first. Adrian Blackwood wasn't the type to cede any advantage, no matter how small.
We wound through the main dining room to a private alcove overlooking the city. And there he was, standing with his back to me, hands in his pockets, studying the view as if he owned it.
He probably did own it. The Blackwoods owned half of Manhattan.
"Mr. Blackwood, your guest has arrived."
He turned, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
The photos hadn't done him justice. Adrian Blackwood was tall at least six-two with the kind of lean, athletic build that spoke of disciplined gym sessions and careful diet control. His charcoal suit was custom-tailored, probably Italian, fitted perfectly to his frame. Dark hair, slightly longer on top, styled with careless precision. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, the kind of face that belonged on magazine covers.
But it was his eyes that stopped me cold.
Gray, like smoke or steel, and so intensely focused that I felt pinned beneath their weight. He studied me with the same attention he'd probably give a balance sheet, taking in every detail.
"Aria." My name in his voice was low, controlled, with an edge of something I couldn't quite identify. "You're early."
"So are you."
"I'm always early." The corner of his mouth twitched not quite a smile. "Punctuality is a sign of respect. Or control. Sometimes both."
He moved closer, and I caught the scent of his cologne. Something expensive and understated, cedar and bergamot. He extended his hand.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. His grip was firm, warm, and the moment our hands touched, I felt something electric shoot up my arm. His eyes flickered, just for an instant, and I knew he'd felt it too.
"Shall we sit?" He gestured to the table, playing the perfect gentleman.
I took my seat, hyperaware of how he moved around the table to sit across from me. Graceful, controlled, like a predator circling prey.
"I took the liberty of ordering wine." He poured from a bottle I didn't recognize, something French and undoubtedly expensive. "A 2015 Château Margaux. Unless you prefer something else?"
"I don't drink at business meetings."
"Is that what this is? A business meeting?" He leaned back in his chair, completely at ease. "I thought we were getting to know each other. Future husband and wife should at least be acquainted, don't you think?"
"Let's not pretend this is anything other than what it is," I said coolly. "A transaction. You're buying my family's company and getting a convenient wife in the bargain. I'm selling my freedom to save my parents. Let's skip the pleasantries."
Something flashed in his eyes surprise, maybe, or approval. "Direct. I like that. Most people waste time dancing around the truth."
"I don't have time to waste. We have three weeks until the wedding, and I'd prefer to establish ground rules now."
"Ground rules." He took a sip of wine, watching me over the rim of his glass. "Interesting. What did you have in mind?"
"First, separate bedrooms. The contract allows for separate residences, but I assume for appearances we'll need to live together. Fine. But I want my own space."
"Agreed. My penthouse has six bedrooms. Take your pick."
"Second, I maintain my position at Chen Industries. I won't be some trophy wife who shops and lunches while you run my family's company into the ground."
"You'll be appointed COO, reporting directly to me. Non-negotiable."
I gritted my teeth. "Co-CEO or nothing."
"You're not qualified to be co-CEO. You're brilliant at operations and finance, but you lack the strategic vision and industry relationships necessary for the top position." He said it without malice, just stated it as fact. "Give it two years. Prove yourself. Then we'll talk about co-CEO."
I wanted to throw my water glass at him. "Fine. Third"
"No." He set down his wine glass. "My turn."
"Excuse me?"
"You're not the only one who gets to set terms, Aria. This marriage works both ways."
I crossed my arms. "Then by all means, enlighten me."
"First, no affairs. I don't care if this is a business arrangement. While you wear my ring, you're mine. Publicly and privately. I won't be made a fool of."
The possessiveness in his voice sent an unwanted shiver through me. "The same goes for you."
"Obviously. I have no interest in maintaining a mistress or entertaining other women. When I commit to something, I commit fully." His gaze held mine. "Even a marriage of convenience deserves fidelity."
I hadn't expected that. "Fine. What else?"
"Second, you attend all family functions with me. Dinners, galas, board meetings where spouse attendance is expected. And you play the role convincingly. The contract specifies a united front. That means no cutting remarks, no cold shoulders, no obvious animosity in public."
"That's in the contract already. I agreed to it."
"Agreeing and executing are different things. I need to know you can pull this off. Can you smile at me in public and pretend we're madly in love while hating me in private?"
"Can you?"
"I don't hate you, Aria."
The words hung between us, loaded with meaning I couldn't decipher.
"You don't even know me," I said finally.
"Don't I?" He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his attention focused entirely on me. "Aria Chen, twenty-four years old. Graduated magna cum laude from Columbia with a double major in business and economics. Joined Chen Industries immediately after graduation, worked your way up from junior analyst to CFO in three years. Known for being brilliant, driven, and uncompromising. You take your coffee black, work sixteen-hour days, and haven't taken a vacation in two years."
My hands clenched in my lap. "You had me investigated."
"Of course I did. Just as you spent last night researching me." He smiled then, a real smile that transformed his face from coldly handsome to devastating. "Did you find what you were looking for? In all those articles and photos?"
"I found that you're calculating, ruthless, and emotionally unavailable. Multiple ex-girlfriends say you're impossible to get close to. You settle lawsuits rather than let details become public. And you somehow managed to be in Singapore the exact week my family's financial reports were being manipulated, which seems like a hell of a coincidence."