Chapter 3 - The Price of Seven Days
Four massive private security guards formed a living wall around us as they shoved through the shouting mob of photographers.
Microphones were thrust over shoulders, journalists screaming questions that bounced off the marble walls like gunfire.
"Mr. Cole! Is she an employee?"
"Who is Claire Bennett?"
"What about the Sterling merger?"
"Is the alliance broken?"
Marcus Vance shoved a television cameraman out of the doorway and pushed us into the private executive corridor.
The heavy soundproof doors slammed shut behind us, cutting off eighty percent of the roar outside.
We were ushered into a lavish private lounge paneled in dark mahogany and furnished with deep leather sofas.
The moment the locks clicked into place, I shoved Ethan away with all the strength in my body.
He stumbled back half a step, raising his hands in a defensive gesture.
"What the hell was that?" I screamed, my voice cracking from the adrenaline tearing through my veins.
My hands were shaking so violently I dropped the briefing binder onto the Persian rug.
Papers scattered across the floor like fallen leaves.
Ethan let out a long, ragged exhale and rubbed both hands over his face.
"I panicked," he admitted, his deep voice muffled against his palms.
"You panicked?" I shrieked, advancing on him. "You panicked, so you assaulted your assistant in front of the entire New York press corps?"
"I kissed you to stop a war," he said, dropping his hands.
"You kissed me to start one!" I shot back, gesturing toward the closed doors where muffled shouts still echoed.
"You announced to three hundred armed sociopaths that we are getting married!"
"I know."
"You don't even know me!"
"I know you," he countered quietly.
"You don't even know my birthday!"
"February eleventh," Ethan said without a second of hesitation.
I froze in my tracks, my jaw slackening.
He winced slightly, looking genuinely uncomfortable for the first time since I had met him.
"Personnel file," he muttered. "I read your background check before signing your clearance."
"That makes it infinitely worse, you psycho!"
I grabbed my purse from the side table and slung the strap over my shoulder.
"I am done," I said, pointing a trembling finger at his chest. "I took this job because I needed health insurance for my mother and a paycheck to keep my family off the street."
"I did not sign up to be human bait for mafia drama."
"Consider this my official, immediate resignation."
I spun on my heel and grabbed the brass handle of the heavy wooden exit door.
"Claire, wait."
"Do not speak to me, Mr. Cole."
"I'll give you one million dollars."
My hand froze on the cold brass handle.
The silence in the lounge became absolute.
The hum of the ventilation system sounded like an aircraft engine.
Slowly, agonizingly, I turned back around to face him.
Ethan stood by the mahogany bar, unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket.
His face was completely devoid of mockery.
He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, calculating the exact trajectory of his fall.
"What did you just say?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"One million dollars," Ethan repeated, enunciating each syllable with icy clarity. "Tax-free. Transferred to an offshore escrow account in your name within two hours."
I stared at him, my brain struggling to process the sheer absurdity of the number.
One million dollars.
My mother's surgery would be paid for in cash by tomorrow morning.
The hospital debt that had crushed my father's spine for five years would evaporate.
Leo could pack his bags and return to Columbia University for the spring semester with every textbook and dorm fee fully covered.
My family would be free.
They would never have to choose between food and prescription pills again.
I swallowed the dryness in my throat, forcing myself to maintain an icy exterior.
"One million dollars for what?" I asked cautiously.
"Seven days," Ethan answered.
"Seven days doing what, exactly?"
"Pretending that we are madly, irrevocably in love."
He walked over to the leather armchair and leaned his hands against the backrest.
"You move into my estate tonight."
"You attend three high-profile family functions at my side."
"You wear the ring I give you."
"You convince my father and the Sterling family that our relationship began months ago in secret."
"And after seven days?" I demanded.
"After seven days, you discover that the mafia world is too violent for your moral conscience."
"You break up with me publicly."
"You take the one million dollars, resign from Cole Meridian, and disappear wherever you want."
"I will provide private security to watch over you and your family for six months after the split to ensure no one touches you."
It sounded like a clean, calculated business deal.
It sounded like salvation wrapped in a nightmare.
"Why?" I asked, my eyes narrowing as I studied his guarded expression. "Why go through this insane circus?"
"If you don't want to marry Madison Sterling, just tell your father no."
"You are a grown man."
"You lead half this city."
A bitter, dark smile touched Ethan’s lips, but his eyes remained hollow.
He stepped closer to me, his voice dropping into a register that sent chills skittering down my spine.
"Claire, you know nothing about how this world works."
"My father didn't arrange this marriage because he wants me to find companionship."
"He arranged it because Victor Sterling discovered an unsealed federal indictment involving our deep-water shipping terminals."
"Madison’s father has enough leverage to send my entire inner circle to a federal penitentiary for the next thirty years."
"The marriage was supposed to be a blood treaty—a guarantee that neither family would betray the other."
My blood ran cold.
"And by rejecting her publicly tonight..." I trailed off, the horror dawning on me.
"By rejecting her publicly, I gave them an insult that cannot be answered with negotiations," Ethan said grimly.
"If I simply refused her, my father would have had me stripped of my rank within the family council by morning."
"He would have viewed it as pure defiance."
"But by claiming I am already promised to someone else—by invoking the ancient family code of honor regarding a chosen bride—I bought myself seven days of arbitration."
"Seven days to find the evidence Victor Sterling is holding over our heads and destroy it."
"And what happens if your father doesn't believe us during those seven days?" I asked, my voice trembling.
Ethan looked directly into my eyes, and for the first time, I saw genuine fear flickering behind his storm-gray gaze.
"If my father proves this is a lie before I find that leverage," Ethan whispered, "he won't just kill me, Claire."
"He will execute anyone who helped me humiliate him."
Before the words could even settle into the heavy air between us, the brass handle of the heavy lounge door clicked.
May you like
The door swung open with a slow, ominous creak.
And standing in the open doorway, shrouded in the dim hallway light, stood a shadow that made Ethan reach instantly for the holster beneath his tuxedo jacket.
