A great speech had just been delivered by none other than the man of the night—Adam Stone. He was the highest fundraiser at the charity ball, a title befitting the man known as the richest in the country. People gravitated to him like moths to a flame. Securing his support meant increasing their odds of success tenfold.
As he stepped down from the stage, the crowd surged toward him, showering him with praise and sycophantic admiration. Adam remained cold and aloof, a statue carved from marble. They clung to him like desperate dogs licking their master's shoes, all in hopes of receiving a bone.
From across the room, Diana sipped her champagne, faintly amused. But it wasn't a new sight to her. People were always drawn to him—for his commanding presence, his wealth, and perhaps even his undeniably good looks. The effect was the same.
Her eyes followed him as he broke away from the crowd and approached her with slow, confident steps. His black tuxedo was tailored perfectly to his tall, lean frame—custom-made by the country's top designer. At six feet two inches, he towered over her even in heels. His face was unreadable, yet striking: an angular jawline, full lips that rarely smiled, and slicked-back jet-black hair. But it was his eyes—dark blue, sharp, and piercing—that held the power to bend people to his will.
"Have you made up your mind yet?" he asked, stopping in front of her.
She toyed with her glass before answering. "I still don't think it's a good idea."
His gaze remained steady. "Have dinner with me. We can talk more there."
When she attended the fundraiser, it was purely as a representative of her father's company. She hadn't expected Adam Stone to suddenly propose marriage to her. Hours later, he was already expecting an answer—treating marriage like a business contract.
She sighed. "You're quite the persistent one, aren't you?"
The corner of his lips lifted slightly. "I wouldn't be where I am today if I weren't."
"So I've heard." She met his gaze, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "Let's go, then."
He nodded and led her to the exit. As they walked side by side, she felt the weight of dozens of eyes on them. She sighed inwardly. Being seen with him would thrust her into the center of attention—something she'd rather avoid. Hopefully, this would end tonight.
"How come you insist?" Diana asked once the food was served. They were in one of Adam's most exclusive restaurants—a place nearly impossible to reserve, unless you were the owner himself. Tonight, it was closed to everyone but them and the staff.
"You're the perfect candidate for me," he said casually, sipping his wine.
"You want me to be your wife," she replied, almost incredulous. "There are dozens of women who would throw themselves at that chance. Why not ask one of them?"
"I don't need them. I need you." His voice was calm, but his eyes burned with unnerving intensity.
"Then explain why I should accept your… proposal."
He leaned back, his posture relaxed yet dominant, like he owned the very air around him. "Do you hate me, Diana?"
She blinked, caught off guard. "No." He had never done anything to warrant such a strong feeling.
"Do you care for me?"
She frowned. What kind of game was he playing? She briefly imagined cutting open his head to find out what he was thinking. "No," she said finally. "We've known each other since high school, but we've never been close. I wouldn't even flinch if you dropped dead tomorrow."
"Are you in love with me?"
She laughed. "Of course not."
He chuckled, clearly satisfied. "That's exactly why you're perfect."
She stared at him, puzzled. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You feel nothing for me. That's what I need in a wife."
She looked at him like he had grown a second head. "You don't want a loving wife?"
His eyes darkened, his tone colder. "Love is overrated. That sentiment is not for me."
A heart of stone. Could she really marry someone like that?
She knew the answer.
"I'm sorry, Adam. But I must refuse. Marriage is important to me. It's not a business transaction."
"What about your father?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What about him?"
"I know him. He's turned down many suitors on your behalf. I believe you know why."
He wasn't wrong. Her father had rejected men who weren't powerful enough. He wanted someone greater than himself, a rarity—except for the man in front of her.
Her father would never refuse Adam Stone.
She swallowed the curse rising in her throat. He had come prepared.
"Someone's done his homework," she said dryly.
His lips curled in the faintest smile. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"Two years. That's all I'm asking. After that, we can go our separate ways."
She said nothing.
"This benefits you too. Marrying me would please your father. And after we part ways, he'll have no reason to refuse whoever you truly want to marry."
He was pressing every button, striking every weakness. Her father. Her freedom. Her future. He played his cards like a master.
"I'll think about it," she said at last.
Adam smiled—a rare, quiet smile of victory. He had won this round.
She had taken the bait.