Neil’s POV

I wasn’t supposed to care. No, I had no interest in caring and I would never allow it.

That was the deal I made with myself a long time ago—no attachments, no emotional strings. Just power, clean lines, and the satisfaction of control.

That was all I needed.

Even with my last girlfriend, I kept it emotionless. Until she started wanting more—dinners that weren’t just transactions, affection that wasn’t timed. I ended it, and I didn’t look back.

Then came the real problem.

“If you’re not married by the end of the next quarter—or at least engaged by the end of this one,” my grandfather said, voice like cracked granite, “you’re out. No company. No seat. No name.”

He said it as if it didn’t mean dismantling everything I’d spent years building.

Lancaster Industries was mine in everything but the title. My blood. My sweat. My nights. The old man knew it, and he didn’t care.

“Don’t give me that look,” he added, swirling his tea like we were talking about the weather. “I won’t hand my legacy to a man who can’t even keep a woman.”

I almost laughed. “So now my future is tied to romantic optics?”

“If the optics make the board more comfortable—and me—I say yes. Maybe Jax is a fool, but at least he has a family. You? You have shadows.”

“You’ve got great-grandkids already.”

“They didn’t grow up under my roof. You did. And you’re the one meant to carry this forward.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t back down. He never did.

So I walked out before the storm inside me could make things worse.

That same night, I told my private investigator to find someone. Not someone I’d fall for—God no. Just someone who looked good on paper. Someone sharp, grounded, and burned enough not to believe in fairy tales.

Then I found her. Faye Martin. Divorced. Quietly brilliant. Holding on by sheer willpower and not an ounce of romance in her bones.

Perfect.

I read her file. Twice. Then reviewed her portfolio—designs with character, a signature touch that didn’t scream for attention but demanded it anyway. I watched her and her family on the level just below the restaurant which our blind date had been set for from the camera angle on my pad.

I expected her to walk up afterwards and not find me there, but she took me by surprise as she stormed out and made her way to the bar where I had been. The rain had caught with her but those angry looks in her hazel eyes immediately told me that I had been right in the choice that I made.

No fake smiles. No pretenses. And I respected that.

When she stood to leave after taking a look at the envelope, I followed, stepped beside her, leaned in—and made my move.

“I know your ex-husband was my employee. I know he cheated. And I know he didn’t deserve you.”

Her breath caught. I saw it. Felt it.

Then I stepped back and sealed it. “And I also know you’re about to walk away from the only offer that could give you everything he took from you.”

Her hand tightened around her purse. A breath later, she looked at me with wary fire in her eyes.

“You have my full attention now, Mr. Lancaster.”

It made me smile. Just a little.

“Then let me give you something worth paying attention to,” I said, lowering myself into the seat again.

She hesitated, but finally sat. “Okay…”

“It’s simple. You’ll be my girlfriend, attend galas, family retreats… then, for the final three months—my wife.”

She blinked at me. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m offering a deal. You help me out, and I help you. You get exposure. A shot at one of my firm’s high-end building projects. Money, too, if that sweetens it.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“You want to pay me to date you?”

“It’s not dating, we’re not dating…for real.” I said smoothly. “It’s acting. Clean, simple, and temporary.”

“Is this something you do often?” She asked. “Hire women to play house?”

“No.” I nearly smiled like I had been doing with her all evening unintentionally, but I forced myself to hold it back. “You’re the first.”

“Why me?”

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I held her gaze in a firm manner and I couldn’t find it in myself to look away. She was freakishly gorgeous.

“Because I already know who you are, and because I chose you.” I finally said in a slow manner like it actually mattered.

She blinked slowly. “So I become your actress... and get married again?”

“My partner,” I corrected. “In public. Strictly professional in private. No strings. No expectations. You’ll keep your schedule, and you can walk away at any time—everything I promised still intact.”

I blinked in surprise as she suddenly stood up from her seat.

“Ms. Martin—”

“No. Whatever this is, I want no part of it.” Her voice shook. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough, shouldn’t that be enough?” I said calmly, not moving.

Faye packed up her things. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do you—”

“Have a lovely evening.” She cut me off, already walking away.

I didn’t stop her. I figured she was gone. Most people would have accepted an offer like this immediately. But she wasn’t most people and that made it all the more interesting.

Letting out a sigh, I walked out the bar and toward my car in the underground lot. I had only gotten in when my phone rang.

Unknown number. But Truecaller said her name.

I answered.

“I’m coming back,” she said, and hung up.

I stared at the screen a moment, then scoffed lightly before making my way back into the bar. By the time I got there, the bar was slightly emptier and as she entered again, I noticed that the anger I had detected on her face earlier was no longer there.

“Didn’t think you would change your mind about seeing me again so soon.” I chuckled.

“I did.” She sat on the barstool next to me but not meeting my eyes. “Then I changed it back.”

A smile tugged at my mouth. “Fair enough.”

The waiter approached, but she waved him away without a word.

Then she leaned forward, arms folded. “Let’s be clear, Mr. Lancaster. I’m only here to hear the full offer. After that, I walk if I don’t like what I hear.”

“Understood.”

“Then talk. The real deal. Not the pitch-perfect version you rehearsed. I want all of it—strings, thorns, and the damn fine print.”

I leaned back and studied her.

“Deal.”

I opened the thin leather file I had brought along with me. It contained everything she needed to see. Contracts. Clauses. A nondisclosure agreement. Even a projected timeline. Clinical. Cold. But necessary.

Faye stared at it, then at me. “You brought paperwork to dinner?”