After I declined Adrien Walton, I thought that would be the end of that weird proposal. Close the chapter, delete the draft, and move on with my very normal, very non-contractual life and never think about it again—like a weird fever dream I could laugh about in ten years.
But I was so very wrong.
The next few days were a new version of hell I wasn't prepared for-Adrien constantly on my case to accept the contract. Calling me into his office for "updates." He'd revise the contract like we were negotiating nuclear disarmament and send printed versions to my desk with color-coded annotations, as if that was the thing stopping me from signing my life away. I half-expected him to start including PowerPoint presentations.
One time, I swear, he slid the damn thing toward me like it was a check for a million dollars and I'm almost certain the zeros had mysteriously multiplied again. And the most absurd part? He had the audacity to highlight the "no touching" clause in bold, flaming red ink like that would seal the deal.
I nearly set the whole folder on fire.
Today, thankfully, was different.
A rare cosmic event had occurred: Adrien was out of the country for some big, important meeting. Which meant, for the first time in days, I could actually breathe.
I took a deep breath. Ah, yes. The sweet scent of freedom. I love the smell of peace.
Aria, of course, seized the opportunity to stage what she called an "emergency intervention." Apparently, I was "visibly cracking under the stress of boss-induced delusion" and "one breakdown away from throwing someone out a window."
So she dragged me to the beach.
Literally dragged. As in, she pulled the covers off me and threatened to drown my phone in her matcha latte if I didn't put on sunscreen and come willingly.
And now, here we were.
The waves crashed in the distance and the breeze kissed my skin, the air smelled of salt and coconut oil. I had just finished applying sunscreen and was settling onto the cloth spread out on the warm sand. My sunglasses were in place, and my toes were buried in tiny golden grains. My soul—almost—restored.
Finally-bliss.
Until my phone started ringing.
At first, I didn't even move. I wasn't expecting anyone's call. I figured it was a spammer or maybe a wrong number or some poor telemarketer trying to sell me insurance. Whatever it was, they could wait. I was off duty.
But then it rang again.
And again. And again.
I groaned, reaching for my phone with one eye still closed.
Caller ID: Adrien Walton.
Of course.
Because even across the ocean, even on my day off, and even with an entire time zone between us, this man had somehow decided I wasn't allowed five minutes of uninterrupted peace.
I stared at the screen like it owed me an apology. "What does this man want now?"
Aria looked over from where she was sipping a coconut drink. "Please don't tell me that's him again."
I held up the phone. "Oh, it's him."
She rolled her eyes. "You better not pick up."
I stared at the screen for a second longer. It stopped ringing for a moment.
Then it rang again.
"Block him."
"He's technically still my boss."
"Then block him with dignity."
The call ended again.
And then started again.
I let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a sob, then finally answered with the enthusiasm of a snail crawling through salt. "Yes, Mr. Walton?"
"Have you changed your mind yet?"
No hello. No preamble. Just straight to business. Classic Adrien.
I collapsed onto the towel and gazed at the sky as though it might consume me entirely if I pleaded sweetly enough.
"Do you ever take a break?" I asked, shielding my eyes with one hand.
"You're avoiding the question."
"Because it's a dumb question."
He exhaled, the sound sharp and irritated even over phone. "It's not a dumb question. It's a business offer."
"It's a weird offer-one that I already said no to."
There was a brief pause, and I could practically hear him clenching his jaw through the speaker.
"You are acting unreasonably."
" Unreasonable?" I sat up. "I'm not the one drafting fake girlfriend contracts like it's a normal Tuesday."
"Isabella-"
"Certainly not, Mr. Walton." I mimicked his tone perfectly. "I told you I'm not doing it. You need to find someone else to play pretend with."
Another pause. Longer this time. I thought maybe, just maybe, he'd hang up and leave me alone to melt peacefully into the sand like a stress-free popsicle.
But no. Of course not.
"I'll forward an updated version this evening."
I let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "You're not serious."
"I'm always serious."
"Unfortunate."
He ignored that. " You'll receive it by nine."
And then he ended the call.
I stared at the phone in disbelief.
Aria looked at me like I'd just informed her I'd joined a cult.
"Did he... seriously just call you while you were on vacation to send you yet another version of his crazy dating contract?"
I dropped my phone onto the towel as if it burned. "He's out of the country and still micromanaging me like a Netflix villain."
She blinked. "Girl. He is so far past delusional, he needs a passport."
ADRIEN'S POV
I wasn't used to hearing no.
I'd offered her a clean deal─ no feelings, no complications, merely a contrac. Three months of faking it and a substantial compensation to go along with it. It made perfect sense. However, she rejected it as though I had requested her to give away a kidney.
Fine.
She wanted to play hard to get? Then I'd play smart.
I picked up my phone and dialed Cameron. He picked up on the second ring.
"I want all the information you can find on Isabella Miller," I said directly.
There was a pause, followed by a soft laugh. "You finally decided to go full villain, huh?"
"Don't be dramatic," I said, tapping a pen against the desk. "This isn't personal. "I simply want to understand what could persuade her to agree."
Cameron's tone sharpened immediately. "Got it. How deep do you want me to go?"
"Deep enough to know what strings to pull. Finances. Family. Identify whatever she is having difficulties with."
"Give me a few hours."
I ended the call leaning back in my chair. It wasn't about manipulation. It was strategy. If I wanted her on board, I needed to speak her language and sometimes, the only language people understood was pressure.
When Cameron returned the call that evening, he had a complete report ready.
"She's still paying off student loans," he began, matter-of-fact. "The balance is high. She's been doing it gradually, but she's overdue on payments."
Noted.
"Her dad owns a vet shop. The place is close to two years overdue on rent. One more missed payment and the landlord could kick them out."
Bingo.
"And her younger brother─he's in college. Tuition's overdue by two semesters. He's on warning."
I smiled slightly. "You've outdone yourself."
"Don't I always?"
I ended the call and went to work.
I knew I had her now.
I'd found her weak points.
First, the student loan office. I called the head of the department directly, someone I'd done business with before.
"I need you to contact Isabella miller," I said. "Tell her she has 24 hours to settle the balance or face formal action. Be… assertive."
They agreed, of course.
Next, the landlord. I'd already purchased the building where the vet shop was located—Cameron made sure the deal went through quietly.
"Mr. Walton," the man greeted me on the line.
"Mr. McMillan, if payment isn't made within 24 hours, I want that clinic locked up. Keys changed. No exceptions."
"Yes, sir."
Last stop—the brother's college.
I called the Dean's office myself. "Student name is Liam miller," I said calmly. "He's behind on tuition. I want you to issue an official warning─payment within 24 hours or he's out for the semester."
"Understood."
With everything set in motion, I sat back in my chair and folded my hands.
She didn't want to listen when I made her an offer.
But let's see how quickly she comes running when the walls start closing in.
All I needed was for her to feel that pressure, the fear of everything slipping through her fingers. It wouldn't take long for her to cave.
I'd made sure of it.
Now, I just needed to wait for her call.