I signed my life away on a Tuesday. The pen felt heavy in my hand. Heavier than it should have. But then again, everything about Damien Cross felt heavy—his presence, his silence, the way he watched me like I was a problem he needed to solve. "Three months," he said. His voice was cold. Controlled. "You play the devoted girlfriend. You attend every event. You smile. You don't ask questions." I looked up from the contract. "And in return?" "Your brother's debt disappears. All of it." Two hundred thousand dollars. Money Jake gambled away to people who break kneecaps for fun. Money we'd never have. Not in this lifetime. "Why me?" I asked. Damien leaned back in his leather chair. His office overlooked the entire city. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything below us looked small. Insignificant. "Because you're nobody, Mara. No connections. No social media presence. You won't complicate things." Nobody. The word stung more than it should have. "And when the three months are up?" "You disappear. I pay you fifty thousand for your trouble. You never speak of this arrangement. Ever." I thought about Jake. About the men who came to our apartment last week. The way they smiled when they threatened him. When they threatened me. "What's the catch?" I asked. "No catch. You do what I say, when I say it. You're mine for three months." The way he said "mine" made my stomach flip. I signed. He didn't smile. Didn't shake my hand. Just took the contract and locked it in his desk drawer. "We start tonight. Charity gala. I'll have a dress sent to your apartment. Be ready by seven." "Tonight?" "Problem?" I had a hundred problems. But none of them mattered anymore. "No," I said. He stood. Six-foot-three of expensive suit and cold authority. "One more thing, Mara." "What?" "Don't fall in love with me. Women always do. It never ends well." The arrogance should have made me angry. Instead, I felt something else. Something dangerous. "Don't worry," I said. "I won't." He smiled then. Just barely. Like he knew something I didn't. "We'll see."