Page 25 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“For how long?”

“As I said, six months. Once Blackwell’s takeover attempt is neutralized and the corporate restructuring is complete, we can dissolve the marriage.”

I sit back, stunned by the absurdity of it all. “And what happens if I say no?”

“I find another solution,” he says simply. “But the settlement I’m offering would set you up for life, Ava. Your own gallery. Freedom to create without financial worry. To do everything you’ve dreamed of doing.”

The mention of financial freedom hits a nerve. I think about my student loans. I think about counting paint tubes and stretching supplies. About the compromises I might have to make after graduation just to survive.

“Why me?” I ask again, because I still can’t wrap my head around it. “You could have anyone.”

“I need someone I can trust. Someone who understands boundaries.” His eyes hold mine. “Someone who won’t mistake this for something it isn’t.”

Oh, he’s good. Playing right into my well-documented trust issues and fear of emotional entanglement.

“And what if this competitor of yours investigates me? Finds out I’m just a broke art student?”

“That’s actually an advantage. It makes our relationship more believable. The rags-to-riches story. The billionaire who fell for the talented artist.”

I laugh bitterly. “Except you didn’t fall for me. You made that perfectly clear.”

A flash of something crosses his face. Regret? Annoyance? “That’s in the past. This is just business.”

“Business,” I repeat, testing the word. “So separate bedrooms?”

“Of course. And a detailed prenuptial agreement protecting both our interests.”

I take another sip of coffee, playing for time while my mind races. This is insane. Completely insane. I was so ready to turn down any offer he made to me. And I still am. Yet...

Financial freedom. My own gallery. No more debt. The chance to create without compromise.

He could be lying...

“I would need guarantees,” I hear myself saying. “Legal protection.”

“Naturally. You would have your own attorney review everything.”

“And no PDA beyond what’s absolutely necessary for appearances.”

He nods. “Agreed.”

“I’d need to maintain my own studio space. My own independence.”

“That’s not a problem.”

I stare at him, searching for the catch. “This is completely crazy, you know that, right?”

“It’s unconventional,” he concedes. “But it solves a problem for both of us.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” I remind him.

“I know.” He checks his watch. “I need an answer soon. Blackwell is making his move tomorrow afternoon.”

The pressure makes me bristle. “Tomorrowafternoon? Jesus. You weren’t kidding about soon. I... I’ll need time to think.”

“Of course.” He pulls out a business card and writes something on the back. “This is theaddress for my attorney’s office. Be there at 10 AM tomorrow to sign the papers.”

“I haven’t said yes,” I remind him yet again.

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