Chapter 1 – James
JAMES
“Is that really him?”
“It has to be! He’s wearing the same tie he had on at the premiere of Deadly Love.”
The two women don’t bother to keep their voices down, despite the fact that I’m sitting two tables away from them.
“You’re such a stalker. You memorized his outfits?” one says.
“No, but there were pictures of him and Anne Hathaway everywhere,” the other replies. “I’m not going to forget an outfit I saw in a zillion magazines. Do you think I should go over there?”
“You have to. He’s there by himself. Maybe he wants company.”
My lips firm into a frown. When I’m in public, a certain amount of attention is unavoidable, but I can’t afford an interruption for the meeting I’m about to have. Especially not of the sort they’re suggesting.
I signal to the server lingering several feet away from me. He hurries to my side, shooting me a blinding white smile that screams “aspiring actor.” I grit my teeth and hope he’s not planning to pitch himself for my next Sequel Original.
“How may I help you, Mr. Keller?” he asks.
I tilt my head toward the young women behind me, who are openly taking photos of me on their smartphones like I’m a zoo animal. “Relocate them, please.”
“Right away, sir,” he says brightly.
The server might have dreams of acting, but he still works for the Ritz, and he’s been trained well.
I half-listen as he smoothly offers the girls an open table closer to the fireplace, a coveted spot for social media photos.
They coo in excitement, seeming only a little disappointed that they’ll need to move to the opposite side of the restaurant.
I give him an approving nod. I might not be asking for his headshot, but he’s earned a very generous tip.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t take a meeting here, a public place outside of my control. I might put up A-list clients at this luxury hotel, but I rarely come here myself. Still, I wanted to have this first meeting on neutral ground, not in my office or apartment. This seemed like a safe choice.
“Sorry I’m late.” A melodic voice carries over my shoulder. It’s immediately followed by a blur of auburn and deep blue as a tall woman pulls out the chair opposite me, smoothly slips out of her black wool trench coat, and falls into the seat.
I push to my feet to take her coat or help with her chair, but she’s already seated and the waiter is already here taking her coat.
She seems to barely register me as she removes her leather gloves and folds one leg over the other beneath the skirt of her high-necked dress. The shade of indigo plays off the copper tones in her hair in a way that would capture beautifully on film
I clear my throat as she orders herself a decaf cappuccino.
So, this is Maura Matthews.
The woman who, after today, will potentially become my fiancée.
I recognize her from the few photos that her father provided, though none of them were high quality. She always seemed to be turning away from the camera, distracted by something. Some of the photos even looked doctored.
There aren’t many to be found of her online, either. She has no social media presence, and Victor told me she prefers to live a private life, away from the press. I can’t blame her—if I could disappear from the public and still run my company effectively, I would.
But it did make me wonder if the photos I did find were the product of some very good AI generation, and maybe she wasn’t the great beauty her father described at all.
I can see now that the pouty lips, upturned brown eyes, and pin-straight hair are all the same as her photos, though in three dimensions, I can see that video would do her favors photos never could.
She’s beautiful, not that it matters for my purposes.
Once the waiter has left, I clear my throat.
“Thank you for coming.”
Her head tilts to the side when her eyes finally meet mine, like she’s examining me. Her gaze roams over my eyes, nose, and eventually, to my mouth. I say nothing and let her look her fill.
“Well, you do look just like your pictures,” she says finally.
I raise a brow. “Is that good or bad?”
She laughs, a low, warm sound. “Don’t fish for compliments. You know what you look like.”
Now, it’s my turn to be curious.
Does she find me attractive, then? That would make this easier.
Maura sits back in her seat, folding her arms, but lifting one to indicate the upper-class cafe and wine bar. “So, do you come here a lot?”
“No.”
When I don’t elaborate, she raises her brows.
“I thought we should meet in a neutral location, somewhere we wouldn’t run into our friends.”
“Ah. You mean Brinley and the gang of miscreant assholes you hang out with. Her words, not mine,” she adds.
I nod. It took me until a few days ago to put the pieces together and realize that Brinley Windsor, my friend Luke’s sister, is close with Maura.
Good news, as far as I’m concerned. My marriage to Maura might be a business arrangement, but it would obviously be ideal for us to get along reasonably well.
If our social circles overlap, we’ll at least have one thing to talk about—even if Brinley does despise me and my friends, her own brother included.
“Did they tell you anything about me?” Maura blurts. “Your friends, I mean.”
“They don’t know about us.” I did explain the arrangement to Ryan, one of my friends, but I didn’t press him for information on Maura herself.
She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Figuring out how to tell people about our situation. There’s not exactly a Hallmark card that says ‘I’m contractually marrying a stranger.’”
“We should petition to have one made.”
Her lips tilt into something that’s almost a smile. When the server approaches with Maura’s drink, we both stay silent until he’s out of earshot.
“I keep trying to come up with a way to tell Brinley. But I can’t think of a version of that conversation where she doesn’t tell me this is a terrible idea. I mean, it is a terrible idea.”
My stomach twists. Part of me wondered whether Maura wanted this contract or if she just wanted to please her father. This is the entire reason I requested this meeting, much to Victor’s annoyance. I need to know if she’s chosen this or if it was chosen for her.
The tabloids and gossip blogs already call me ‘the villain’, but I’m not a total monster. This contract isn’t just for a marriage. It requires me to put a baby in this woman within a year of taking our vows or the deal that will get me 50 percent of her father’s company is out the window.
Either she convinces me this is what she wants, or I walk out of here the same way I came in: the owner of the largest streaming service in this country, disgustingly wealthy, and terminally single.
Not a bad life.
But it could be better. Bigger.
If she says yes.
I meet her eyes. They’re lighter than I thought at first—like tea with a splash of milk. “If you think it’s a terrible idea, we can end this arrangement now. No questions asked.”
Her lips part. “But—why? Am I really that different from what you expected?”
My brow furrows. “No.”
“There must be something about me,” she presses. “Something that made you change your mind. What is it?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing objectionable about you.”
She’s misunderstanding me. I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. “In fact, you’re altogether different from what I thought you’d be, but not in a bad way whatsoever.”
It’s not just her beauty, which is a perk I didn’t think I’d get, but her bearing.
She’s full of contradictions. Blunt questions, asked in a melodic voice that speaks of diction classes.
Tailored designer clothing and paint-stained hands.
She’s chaos wrapped in elegance—something adjacent to the icy society princess I expected.
It makes me wary.
As a rule, I avoid unpredictable elements—I don’t need people around me who throw wrenches in my plans.
But something about her intrigues me. For once, I don’t want to cut a meeting short, which might be a good sign.
If we get married, we’ll have to spend years together.
My wife should be someone I can spend more than five minutes with in a café.
Maura leans forward, mimicking my position as she fixes me with a determined gaze. “This isn’t a love match, Keller. If you’re not attracted to me, or if you think we wouldn’t fit for some reason, I’d rather just know instead of having to guess.”
“I am being frank. I have no objections.”
She blinks at me, her confusion transforming into understanding. “You’re worried about me. You thought my father pressured me into this.”
“Didn’t he?”
“No. I chose this. It’s what I want.”
“Not many women would choose to give up romance.”
“Trust me. I’m not the least bit interested in romance, let alone a traditional marriage. I never have been. I deliberately chose to be alone, even before Victor cooked up this marriage merger.”
I twist my coffee cup in my hand as I consider.
I have no doubt other men pursued her. If she’s single, I do believe it’s because she chose it.
Still, she might only be marrying me to appease her father.
She might tire of the arrangement in a few months, once she realizes I’m not a kind or thoughtful man—or worse, after she’s already pregnant with my child.
Maura sighs loudly, like she can already tell what I’m thinking. “I want this,” she says bluntly. “It might have been my father’s idea, but it fits my needs.”
“Which are?”
“A baby. Financial security. Freedom from my father.” She ticks off each point on her fingers. “My father is a controlling bastard, and I’m tired of living under his thumb. “
My jaw clenches. The words “controlling bastard” have been used to describe me, too. Maura would just be trading one villain for another.