Chapter 3: The Proposal
Aria's office was a glacier at midnight, all sharp edges and unforgiving silence.
She sat at her desk, Victor's will pinned beneath a bronze stapler like a captured insect. Beside it lay Kai Donovan's service contract, its clauses highlighted in blood-red ink. Termination notice: 48 hours. Severance: $250,000. Non-disclosure agreement: lifelong.
A cheap price to buy a ghost.
"Clara,"she said, not glancing up as her assistant scurried in. "Summon Donovan. Now."
"He's off-duty, ma'am. His shift ended at—"
"I don't care if he's in a coma. Get him here in twenty minutes or find me someone who can."
Clara fled.
Aria stood, pacing the glass-walled room. Her reflection fractured across the surfaces of a dozen ice queens, each more brittle than the last. She'd rehearsed this moment, scripting every word, but Kai had a habit of unraveling her plans.
No. This time, he'll comply.
She checked her watch. Nineteen minutes.
The elevator chimed at eighteen.
Kai strode in like he owned the building, his leather jacket reeking of rain and rebellion. He'd ditched his security uniform for a faded band tee and jeans that clung to his thighs with criminal intent.
"You're late," Aria said sharply.
"You're welcome." He tossed a grease-stained paper bag onto her desk. "Brought you a souvenir."
She didn't flinch. "Sit."
"Pass. I'd rather stand. Makes it easier to walk out."
Aria opened the bag. Inside: a congealed bacon-egg sandwich from a Brooklyn diner. His neighborhood. A taunt.
"Charming," she said, dropping it into the trash. "But we're not here to discuss your dietary crimes."
"Shame. I make great hangover food."He nodded at the whiskey decanter behind her. "Which you'll need after this chat."
"You think you know me, Mr. Donovan?"
"I know you didn't call me here at midnight to talk about my job." He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze sharp as a sniper's scope. "So cut the bullshit, Queen. What do you want?"
Aria's nails bit into her palms. Control. Always control.She slid his contract across the desk.
"I'm offering you a new position."
He didn't move. "Promotion?"
"Of sorts."
"Let me guess." He pushed off the wall, prowling closer. "Personal bodyguard? Dog walker? Assassin?"
"Husband."
The word hung between them, a live wire.
Kai froze. Then he laughed a deep, rumbling sound that shook the room. "Good one. Got a prenup draft too?"
"This isn't a joke." She opened the will, stabbing a finger at the marriage clause. "My father's final manipulation. Marry within a year, or the board dissolves my control. They'll vote me out, dismantle everything I've built."
"And you want meto play Prince Charming?" He smirked. "Got a thing for gutter royalty, Queen?"
"I want a transaction. One year of marriage. No intimacy, no emotional entanglements. You'll live in my penthouse, attend events, and act… devoted. In return, I'll pay you ten million dollars."
Kai's smirk faded. "Ten mil to be your trophy husband?"
"It's more than you'll ever earn in ten lifetimes."
He studied her, eyes narrowing. "Why me?"
"You're disposable." The lie tasted bitter. "No family, no connections, no ambition beyond your paycheck. And when this ends, you'll vanish. No one will care."
"Harsh." He circled her desk, stopping inches away. "But not honest. Try again."
Aria refused to retreat. "You're the only man in this building who doesn't fear me. The board will buy it."
"And you?" His voice dropped, rough as gravel. "Do I scare you?"
"Don't flatter yourself."
"Liar." He braced a hand on her chair, caging her in. "You're shaking."
She was. Fury or fear? Both, maybe. "Do you want the money or not?"
Kai straightened, pacing to the window. Manhattan sprawled beneath them, a kingdom of shadows and neon. "Ten million's a lot for acting."
"You'll earn it. The board will test us. The press will hunt us. You'll need to be… convincing."
"And if I say no?"
"You won't." She opened his contract. "You've violated six clauses this month alone. Harassment claims. Insubordination. I could bury you."
He turned, eyes glinting. "You could try."
"Or you could take the money." She softened her voice, the way she'd seen Victor do before a kill. "Ten million. A fresh start. All you have to do is pretend."
Silence.
Then—
"Double it."
"What?"
"Twenty million." Kai closed the distance, his heat searing her. "And I set the rules."
"You're in no position to bargain."
"Really?" He plucked the contract from her desk, tearing it in half. "You need me. Not some Ken doll. Me. Because I'm the only one who'll make this believable. So here's my offer: Twenty million. Total transparency, I get access to every meeting, every file. And you drop the Ice Queen act when we're alone."
"Never."
"Then find another fool." He turned toward the door.
"Fifteen," she snapped.
He paused.
"Fifteen million. And you follow my rules."
Kai glanced over his shoulder, grinning like a wolf. "Eighteen. And I move into your penthouse tonight."
"Seventeen. And you sign a postnup."
"Deal." He extended his hand. "But add one thing: You let me protect you. Really protect you. No locking me out of meetings or ignoring my intel."
Aria hesitated. Letting him in was dangerous. Letting him stay…
But Victor's will laughed from the desk.
She took his hand. "One year. No more."
His grip burned. "Better make it count, Queen."
At 2 a.m., Aria stood in her penthouse, watching Kai haul a duffel bag through the door.
"Where's my room?" he asked.
"Second door on the left."
He vanished down the hall. She poured a whiskey, her hand steady now.
Then…
"You've got to be kidding me."
She found him in the guest room, scowling at the bed.
"Problem?"
"This isn't a bedroom. It's a museum." He kicked the pristinely made bed. "Where's the TV? The… life?"
"I don't watch TV."
"Of course you don't." He dropped his bag, unzipping it to reveal a battered laptop, a Glock, and a stack of dog-eared sci-fi paperbacks. "Rules, Queen. First: I'm mounting a TV tomorrow. Second: You're buying a coffee maker. Third—"
"I don't drink coffee."
"You will." He stepped closer, his scent, gunmetal and leather invading her space. "Third: No more whiskey for breakfast."
"Or what?"
"Or I'll make you eat that dinner sandwich."
Aria turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.
"One last rule."
"What?" she glared at him.
"You call me Kai. 'Mr. Donovan makes me feel old."
She slammed the door.
Alone in her bedroom, she pressed a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat thundered, reckless and alive.
What have I done?