Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband (Billionaire Deal Trap #1)

Chapter One

Claire

It wasn't just my reflection that seemed outlandish; it was the whole fairy tale stretched out in front of me. This wasn’t how my life was supposed to go.

I stood in the bridal suite, a designer gown wrapping me in uncomfortable luxury, as the weight of this deal crushed my chest until I couldn’t breathe. Or maybe it was the bodice.

The girl in the mirror had hazel eyes too large for her pale face, her hair was swept into an elegant style that directly contradicted her usual simple style.

Two weeks ago, I'd been scrambling to keep my family afloat, drowning in debt with my mother’s growing medical bills and my brother’s tuition.

Of course, to add insult to injury, my boss, seeing that I was desperate, decided to try to get me into his bed.

Things were looking helpless, until Alexander Reed's phone call threw me a lifeline of razor wire.

The room's grandeur pressed down on me: fresh flowers sweetly perfuming every breath, champagne bubbling in a crystal flute, a dress that probably cost more than my college tuition, mom’s mortgage, and the cost of raising two kids combined.

I ran a hand down the lace bodice, feeling both captive and queen, wondering if I would survive this deal.

My mind flashed back to my boss, how he’d cornered me, his warm breath on my face and a cold wall at my back.

His voice was a growl, making every hair on the back of my neck prickle and stand on end.

"Claire, you're not thinking this through," he'd said, leaning closer with the kind of smile that made my skin crawl. "Consider the benefits. You and me—it's the best deal you'll get."

I remembered clutching the performance review in my hand, crumpled and damp from the shock. He’d promised to overlook my “poor performance” if I just… gave into him.

"I can't." My voice broke and terror flooded my chest. His dismissal followed me out the door, a revenge for not warming his bed, leaving me jobless and reeling. With no other options and rent and bills overdue, I'd swallowed my pride and agreed to Alexander’s offer. I’d chosen between the devil and the deep blue sea, but this option didn’t require intimacy I wasn’t ready for, so it was the better choice.

Alexander Reed. The name alone stirred something sharp and painful. I'd admired him from afar when I worked for his company—a man whose looks could cut glass and whose arrogance often did cut people to the bone. A few hours after I hit send, my phone buzzed with his number, the call that changed everything.

"Claire," he'd said, his voice as smooth and cold as polished steel. "I have a proposition for you."

His words were like ice water, shocking and leaving me in over my head. I had sat on the edge of my bed, heart hammering, as he outlined his bizarre proposal. He needed a wife—fast, no questions asked—and I needed money even faster. The contract was specific, stripping away any illusions: one year, no inquiries into motives, and enough money to keep my family secure for a long time. I’d be stupid to say no.

I blinked back to the present, the veil over my face like a bag over my head suffocating me. The girl in the mirror trembled. The suite, extravagant and indifferent, waited for me to step into the role of Mrs. Reed, a part I had no idea how to play.

A soft knock on the door pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. "Claire?" Michael's voice was gentle, filled with the only certainty I felt today.

"Come in," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

Michael slipped inside, awkward in his suit, looking like a younger version of our father. His presence was both a comfort and a reminder of why I was here, and his eyes scanned the room before settling on me.

"Wow," he said, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "You look... rich."

Despite myself, I laughed. "I feel like a fraud."

He sobered, crossing the room to take my hands. "You don't have to do this, Claire."

I squeezed back, finding some anchor in his solid grip. "Yes, I do. You know I do."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a gesture so like Dad's that made me ache. "I don't want you getting hurt. Or more hurt than you already are."

I thought of our mother, her hospital bills stacked up, Michael’s tuition and future on the line, and overdue rent.

He was wrong, I didn’t have a choice.

"I'll be fine. It's just a year, and then everything will be better." One year, then I could return to life as usual.

"Is it worth it?" Michael's voice cracked, showing the boy still inside the young man. "Living with that guy?"

I hesitated, the image of Alexander's wintry blue eyes flashing in my mind.

"It's only business," I said, echoing the lie I needed to believe.

He looked at me with the kind of knowing only brothers have. "Does he know about, you know, the fact that you've never—"

"No," I cut in quickly.

"And he won't." There was no reason for him to know that.

Michael nodded, his face shifting with conflicting emotions. "Just be careful, okay?"

I nodded back, not trusting myself to speak. I felt the pressure of every sacrifice I'd ever made pulling me under like an anchor.

"I'll be right there in the front row, glaring at him the whole time," Michael said, finally releasing a small, strained smile. "Don't worry, I'll make it awkward for him."

I laughed again, but it came out more like a sob. "Thanks. I need that."

We stood together, the silent room loud with the enormity of what lay ahead, and I felt the warmth of my brother’s loyalty like a comfortable blanket around my shoulders. He hugged me tightly, then left me alone in my fake fairy tale.

The minutes stretched like hours. I watched the clock, feeling my resolve fray with every tick. How had I gone from dreaming of love to signing a contract for a pretend version? But wasn't this my life, a series of compromises wrapped in pretty packaging?

My heart drummed a steady beat of panic as I turned to leave. The girl in the mirror watched, her eyes full of questions without answers. I lifted the heavy skirt of my gown, took a breath that felt like it might be my last, and opened the door to whatever waited for me.

The music swelled, signaling it was time. I moved down the aisle like a mouse approaching a snake, but mesmerized despite impending doom. The whisper of silk against marble floors was nearly lost to the thundering of my pulse.

Everyone was staring; everyone was a stranger. The grand ballroom, smelling of flowers and extravagance, left me with only growing astonishment. This was how Alexander lived? Every moment lavish, every event luxurious?

At the end of it all stood Alexander, a beautiful statue carved in ice, his face as emotionless as my heart was wild.

I tried to keep my eyes forward, focusing on the man who would be my husband in contract if not in soul. This didn’t feel right, but I knew I had to go through with it. My family depended on me. My steps felt heavy under the weight of the dress, of the moment, of the thousand worries I couldn't silence. And yet, it was another sight entirely that almost stopped me mid-stride.

In the front row, an elegant blonde woman sat as if struck, shock shifting her features into something fierce and hurt. Her presence shot through me like lightning. She was sitting next to a man I recognized as Alexander's brother. So why was she staring at Alexander like he’d ripped out her heart and stomped it into oblivion?

I steadied myself, wondering why Alexander's eyes looked past me.

The rest of the room was a blur by comparison. I reached the altar, breathless from more than just the walk. Alexander turned to face me, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was a tightness in his jaw that hadn't been there before. My nerves sparked like frayed wires as the officiant began.

"Dearly beloved," the words rang out, filling the vast space with their empty, untrue promise. I glanced up at Alexander, searching for a flicker of humanity in those glacier-blue eyes, but he was already looking past me, his gaze finding its way back to the woman beside his brother. My chest tightened, a sense that something was not what it seemed rising within me.

But I’d agreed to this, and the money would be worth whatever happened next… right? Besides, I’m Claire Dawn and I’ve never been someone who didn’t find the silver lining in any situation. For now, Alexander Reed is choosing me in front of the world, and even if it’s fake, it’s exhilarating .

The vows passed in a surreal haze as if my brain couldn’t process things. Instead, it felt like the time I had my wisdom teeth out, the world had felt unreal and fuzzy – just like now. Alexander's voice was steady, detached, and mine wavered with each syllable, cracking under the pressure of pretending this was anything more than a transaction.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife." The finality of it sank like a stone in my stomach. Every muscle in my body tightened, as realization filled me – this wasn’t real, but it was. When Alexander was done with me, I’d be a divorced woman who’d survived a sham marriage, and I couldn’t even tell anyone the truth. My next husband – my hopefully real husband – could never know the truth.

I steeled myself for the kiss, expecting an obligatory brush of lips. But Alexander's hand pressed my lower back with sudden, possessive force, pulling me against him with an urgency that stole the breath out of my lungs. His lips crashed onto mine in a demanding motion, and the room dissolved into heat and bewilderment.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't what I thought a business arrangement would feel like. I trembled under the shock of it, a current of confusion and something darker coursing through me. The kiss seared away any illusion that this would be easy or cold. My body hummed to life, both wanting more and demanding I run. But I was frozen in place, surrendering to him as the thrill of his kiss burned through me.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes flickered with something unfamiliar—an intensity that made my pulse rebel and left me gasping for air. The control I'd imagined was nowhere in sight, replaced by a rawness I didn't understand but secretly wanted to feel again.

"Mrs. Reed," he murmured, his voice a low thrum that resonated in places I wasn't ready to acknowledge.

I touched my lips, expecting them to burn. "Yes," I whispered, but it sounded more like a question.

He watched me, his eyes telling me he already knew the secret I was trying so desperately to hide.

The ceremony concluded, a cascade of applause washing over us like a mocking tide. I stumbled through the next few moments, letting Alexander lead me down the aisle, my mind spinning in wild, uncertain loops like a lame horse struggling to stay upright.

The kiss lingered, branding me with more questions than I had answers for. It haunted me, even as the congratulations of wealthy strangers swirled around us. Was this all part of his plan? Was the passion an act as well?

I stole a glance at him, finding his profile hard and resolute. My heart, traitorous and confused, responded with a stutter I didn't recognize.

"You're full of surprises, Mr. Reed," I said, more to myself than to him.

We reached the end of the aisle, the noise and spectacle at our backs, and I was officially his wife. It was everything I had agreed to, yet nothing I had expected.

Alexander paused, his grip still firm on my hand. "Welcome to the family," he said, his voice carrying a note of challenge.

"Thank you," I replied, swallowing the storm of feelings that raged inside me. I didn't know if I meant it or if he even did.

Together, we faced the beginning of this charade, the end of our illusions, and the strange, uncharted territory in between.

The reception was a show of wealth, a celebration crafted with precision and devoid of warmth. I stood at its center, a reluctant actress under glittering chandeliers, Alexander's grip on my hand holding me to a reality that was actually fiction. Smiles, champagne, congratulations—they blurred around us like scenery flying by out the window of a runaway train.

We moved through the crowd, and I tried to wear my new identity with some semblance of grace, though it rubbed at my raw nerves. Everyone looked at us with eyes full of curiosity, envy, and disbelief. Did they all know? I couldn’t shake the feeling that they all saw right through the act I’d put on.

The dance floor before us was beautifully decorated with expensive little trees in opulent pots wrapped in fairy lights. The space was magical, though my heart hurt because it was all fake.

Alexander pulled me close, his touch electric and unsettling – I felt need to escape or maybe wanting more? My whole body seemed to vibrate with the aftershocks of the ceremony and his kiss.

"You're shaking," he whispered, his voice cool and edged with something like amusement. "Relax, it's just an act."

I looked up, searching his face for clues. "You're very convincing," I said, unable to keep the tremble from my voice.

We began to dance, moving in a slow circle that felt both intimate and painfully public. The music swelled, drowning out the noise of the crowd, leaving just the two of us and the tension growing between.

As I settled into the rhythm, I scanned the room, taking in the spectacle of wealth and excess. My gaze caught on Jen, my sister, laughing with James, her charm in full, manipulative force. Even from this distance, I could see the glittering bracelet she wore, one I'd bought for myself but never had the heart to take back from her.

I stiffened in Alexander's arms, waiting for his reaction. He followed my gaze, his eyes narrowing briefly before his expression iced over again. The pressure of his hand on my waist increased, a silent reminder that nothing escaped his notice.

"That's your sister?" he asked, a thread of something dangerous in his tone.

I nodded, biting my lip. "She likes to get what she wants."

His lips twisted into a mirthless smile. "I know someone like that too."

I tensed, surprised by the venom in his words. Who’d hurt him? I tried to tell myself I didn’t care.

Before I could respond, a man in a wrinkled tux stumbled towards us, a drunken smile plastered across his face. "Congratulations, Alex!" he slurred, clapping a hand on Alexander's shoulder. "Didn't think you'd ever move on from Allison. Well done, mate."

The world paused, the music and chatter fading into an oppressive silence. I felt Alexander's grip on me tighten, a moment of raw emotion breaking through his polished facade. Anger flared in his eyes, burning so fiercely I thought it might consume us both.

"You're hurting me," I whispered, my voice small and unsure.

He blinked, the mask snapping back into place with practiced precision. "Apologies," he said curtly, releasing me as if I were something fragile and unwanted while I tried to process what had just been said. Surely it was just the drunken ramblings of some man, right? Alexander Reed didn’t love. Everything in his life is a carefully measured and calculated move, including the people.

The drunk guest wobbled away, oblivious to the damage he'd caused, leaving a trail of awkward whispers in his wake. I watched him go, his words echoing in my mind.

Alexander's mood shifted, an undertow of rage and frustration pulling at the surface calm. I didn't know how to navigate the new landscape of his emotions, didn't know if I wanted to try. Instead, I decided to take the approach I would in any other situation, any other time. “You look handsome,” I say, adjusting the flame lilies of his pocket boutonniere.

“Don’t,” he said, moving my hand, and I blinked.

“I can’t call my husband handsome?” I asked, blinking. This was going to be harder than I thought.

“Don’t touch the flower. They’re poisonous.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I swallowed so hard it hurt. “Poisonous?”

He nodded. “Every part of it. Can’t have you dying on our wedding night.”

Something in the way he said the words melted my heart a tiny bit. Until he continued.

“Suspicion of murdering my wife is not the kind of publicity I need.”

There it was. Everything was about him. How would I survive the sheer calculating, coldness of this man?

We continued to dance, a mechanical caricature of romance, and I wondered how long it would be before we both fell apart.

"You have a lot of questions," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "I thought the contract was clear."

I met his gaze, my own defiance sparking in the face of his cold certainty. "I didn’t ask any questions," I said, each word daring him to deny the truth.

He let out a short, humorless laugh, and for the first time, I saw a crack in the armor. It made my heart freeze with an unexpected mix of triumph and dread. "You’re correct. But your eyes betray you."

The dance ended, and applause swept over us like a wave threatening to drown me. Alexander didn't release me this time. Instead, he pulled me from the floor with renewed determination, the elegant perfection of his plan tainted by emotion.

My curiosity twisted with fear as we wove through the guests. What had I gotten myself into? What kind of man was Alexander Reed when his guard slipped, and how much more would it cost me to find out? Fear blended with excitement as I thought about how unpredictable my future had become.

We left the reception behind as he led me into a private room, closing the door on the world and our audience.

"The contract clearly stated you weren't to ask questions," he said, his voice cutting through the silence as I held my breath, trying to make myself small. "But I can see you have many. Choose your next words carefully, Mrs. Reed."