Chapter 3

Demi pushed past the bodyguards at the lounge doorway, her heels thudding rapidly against the thick hallway carpet as she fled the suffocating room.

Gloria's shrill voice echoed right behind her.

"Don't even think about running away! Our men are guarding every exit downstairs. You're walking down that aisle today whether you like it or not!"

Demi didn't look back. She gathered the heavy folds of her white skirt and walked faster, the tears she had held back finally blurring her vision.

The crystal wall sconces melted into fuzzy halos of light. Only one thought pounded in her skull: she could not let the Holman family get away with this.

She needed a man—any man—just to walk into that ballroom and blow this wedding to pieces, turning the Holmans into the biggest laughingstock in San Francisco society.

Blinded by tears and moving too fast, she rounded the sharp corner of the top-floor corridor without seeing the group of men striding toward her.

She slammed headfirst into a hard chest, the crisp scent of cedarwood mixed with faint tobacco instantly filling her nose.

The impact knocked her off balance. She gasped as she tipped backward, squeezing her eyes shut.

A strong arm whipped around her slender waist and hauled her firmly back against a broad, warm chest.

Demi's eyes flew open, her gaze crashing straight into a pair of deep, icy blue eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.

The man towering over her wore an immaculate black bespoke suit. His features were strikingly handsome, sharp and cold like a ruler who didn't belong in the mortal world.

Bentley Collier looked down at the woman in his arms—her eyes rimmed with red, her cheek slightly swollen, wearing a rumpled wedding gown—a flicker of intrigue crossing his dark blue gaze.

Behind him, his chief special assistant, Carter Brooks, sucked in a sharp breath and stepped forward to pull the reckless woman off his boss.

Bentley slightly raised his free left hand, halting Carter with a tiny gesture while keeping his eyes locked on Demi's face.

Demi froze for three full seconds before realizing she was clutching the lapels of a stranger's jacket, wrinkling the expensive fabric in her fists.

She let go as if burned and tried to step back.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

Bentley didn't release her right away. Instead, his large hand tightened slightly around her waist, the scorching heat of his palm pressing right through the thin satin of her dress.

His low, gravelly voice rumbled in the quiet hallway.

"Running in such a hurry, little bride? Trying to escape your own wedding?"

The casual remark hit Demi like a bolt of lightning. Looking at the commanding, breathtaking man in front of her, a wild idea took root in her mind.

Instead of pulling away, she stepped closer and grabbed Bentley's sleeve, tilting her head up to look straight into his eyes.

The man's gaze darkened instantly, the air around him dropping several degrees, yet he stood still and waited for her to speak.

Demi bit her lower lip, her voice trembling slightly but desperate.

Desperation overriding her better judgment, Demi grabbed his sleeve and whispered frantically, "Sir, are you looking to earn some fast cash?"

Behind him, Carter nearly choked on his own saliva. In all of California, someone was actually asking the billionaire CEO of the Collier Group if he wanted to make quick cash.

Bentley raised a dark brow, a trace of amusement surfacing in his icy eyes.

"Oh? How?"

Demi took a deep breath and pointed down the hall toward the grand ballroom doors.

"Walk through those doors with me in ten minutes and pretend to be my groom."

She unclasped a diamond bracelet from her wrist—the only piece of jewelry left to her from her college scholarship awards—and pressed it into his palm.

"This is the deposit. Once the wedding is ruined, I'll wire you another hundred thousand dollars."

Bentley looked down at the diamond bracelet still warm from her skin, his thumb slowly rubbing the cold cut of the stones as the corner of his mouth curved upward.

A glint of chilling, absolute calculation flickered in his deep blue eyes, his knowing smirk suggesting he already saw right through the entire desperate sham of this wedding and the frantic pawn standing before him.

Seeing his silence, Demi thought he wasn't satisfied with the price and added urgently.

"As long as you help me wreck this ceremony, you can name whatever terms you want!"

Heavy footsteps of the Holman bodyguards echoed from the far end of the corridor. Her time was running out.

Bentley leaned down slightly, bringing his handsome face close to her ear. His warm breath brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck, sending a shiver straight down her spine.

His voice dropped so low only the two of them could hear.

"Whatever terms I want? Are you sure you can afford the price?"

Pressed back by his overwhelming presence, Demi retreated half a step until her spine hit the wall, yet she stubbornly lifted her chin.

"I'm sure."

The guards' footsteps reached the edge of the corner. Demi squeezed her eyes shut, thinking her desperate gamble was over.

Just as the guards rounded the turn, Bentley suddenly reached out, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and pulled her firmly to his side.

"Deal."