Emma’s POV

My head felt like someone was hitting it with a hammer from the inside. The silk sheets under me were too soft, too expensive, too not-mine. Morning light stabbed through floor-to-ceiling windows I didn't recognize.

"Coffee?"

I jerked up, immediately regretting it as the room spun. The man from last night stood by a marble counter, wearing a crisp white shirt and dark pants. In daylight, he was even more intimidating. Those grey eyes watched me like a hawk watches a mouse.

"I don't... we didn't..." I pulled the blanket up to my chin, even though I was still wearing my wrinkled black dress.

"We didn't," he confirmed, pouring coffee into two cups. "You kissed me, cried on my shoulder for an hour about someone named Ryan, then passed out. I slept on the couch."

My face burned hotter than the coffee he handed me. "I'm so sorry. I thought this was the bathroom. I was drunk. My husband and my stepsister..."

"Were having sex in the Presidential Suite. Yes, you mentioned that. Several times." He sat in the chair across from the bed, keeping professional distance. "I'm Marcus, by the way. Marcus Blackwood."

The name hit something familiar in my brain, but I couldn't place it through the hangover fog. "Emma Chen. I'm really sorry about barging in. And the kissing. And the crying."

"Don't apologize." His voice was colder now, all business. "Actually, your timing is perfect. I have a proposition for you."

"If this is some weird way of hitting on me—"

"It's not." He pulled out his phone, showing me a photo of a gorgeous redhead. "This is Victoria Lane. My ex. She's in town for two weeks, trying to win me back. I need her to see I've moved on."

"Good for you?" I wasn't following.

He leaned forward, those grey eyes intense. "I need a girlfriend, Emma. A fake one. Two weeks, a few public appearances, make Victoria jealous enough to leave me alone."

"That's crazy."

"Is it? You need to show your husband you've moved on too. That you're not the boring little wife he can throw away."

The words stung because they were true. "He wouldn't care."

"Oh, he would." Marcus smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. It was sharp, like a knife. "Men like Ryan always care when they lose control of their toys."

"I'm not a toy."

"No, you're not. Which is why you're going to help me, and I'm going to help you." He stood, walking to the window that showed all of Chicago spread below us. "I just bought Thompson Marketing. Your husband's company."

My coffee cup rattled against the saucer. "What?"

"The deal closed yesterday. Nobody knows yet. It'll be announced Monday." He turned back to me. "Ryan's about to become my employee. How would you like to be the boss's girlfriend?"

The idea was insane. Completely, utterly insane. But the thought of Ryan's face when he saw me with someone richer, more powerful, more everything than him...

"I don't even know you."

"You know I'm rich enough to stay in this suite. You know I'm powerful enough to buy your husband's company. You know I kiss better than him."

My face burned again. "That's not... I was drunk."

"In vino veritas." At my confused look, he translated, "In wine, there's truth. You kissed me like you've been starving, Emma. When's the last time Ryan kissed you like you mattered?"

I couldn't remember. Maybe our wedding day? Even then, he'd been checking his phone during our first dance.

"What exactly would this involve?"

Marcus pulled out a tablet, all business now. "Public appearances. Dinner tomorrow night at Chez Laurent where Victoria will definitely see us. The Thompson Marketing announcement party on Monday. A few other events over the next two weeks. Hold hands, look in love, make her jealous."

"And in return?"

"I destroy your husband's career, legally and thoroughly. Plus, I pay you fifty thousand dollars for your time."

I choked on my coffee. "Fifty thousand?"

"Too low? I can go to seventy-five."

"No! I mean, that's too much. I can't take your money."

"It's not charity. It's a business arrangement." He sat back down, closer this time. "You help me, I help you. Everyone wins except the people who hurt us."

"Why me? You could have any woman in Chicago."

"Because you're real. You're hurt. You won't fall in love with me or my money." He paused. "And because when you kissed me last night, it was the first honest thing that's happened to me in years."

My phone buzzed. Ryan's name on the screen made my stomach turn.

"Where are you? We need to talk about divorce papers. Sophia wants to plan the wedding."

Wedding. They were planning a wedding while still married to me.

"So?" Marcus asked. "Do we have a deal?"

I thought about three years of being the perfect wife. Three years of being told I wasn't enough. Three years of being second choice to everyone, including my own stepsister.

"One condition," I said. "Ryan can't know it's fake. He has to believe I've really moved on."

Marcus's smile was real this time, and it transformed his face from dangerous to devastating. "Emma Chen, I'm going to make your ex-husband regret the day he let you go."

"Deal." I held out my hand.

He shook it, his grip firm and warm. "We should start immediately. Can you stay for breakfast? We need to get our story straight."

"What story?"

"How we met. How long we've been together. The basics that couples know about each other."

"We can't say I stumbled drunk into your room."

"No," he agreed, pouring more coffee. "We'll say we met at an art gallery. You were admiring a painting, and I couldn't take my eyes off you. Love at first sight."

"Nobody believes in love at first sight."

"Everyone wants to believe in it, though." He handed me a room service menu. "Order whatever you want. Then we'll go shopping."

"Shopping?"

"You need clothes for tomorrow night. Dresses that'll make Victoria feel underdressed. Jewelry that'll catch the light when you touch my arm. Shoes that make you tall enough to kiss me without standing on your toes."

"I can't afford—"

"I'm paying. It's part of the arrangement." He typed something on his phone. "James, my assistant, will meet us at Nordstrom at noon. He has excellent taste."

"This is happening really fast."

"Second thoughts?"

I looked at my phone. Three more texts from Ryan, each one nastier than the last. One from Sophia with a picture of her hand on her still-flat stomach. One from my stepmother asking why I was being so difficult about the divorce.

"No second thoughts," I said. "When do we start?"

"Right now." Marcus stood, offering me his hand. "Ready to become the most envied woman in Chicago?"

I took his hand, noting how perfectly mine fit in his. "Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Don't fall in love with me either. This is just business."