Chapter 2 THE PRICE OF BEING HIS WIFE

I couldn't bring myself to touch the contract right away.

The words on the first page glared up at me, almost taunting me-like they already knew I'd do something I'd regret.

TEMPORARY MARRIAGE AGREEMENT.

My name sat under Rafe Mercer's, crisp black print, as if someone had already decided I belonged in his world.

I looked up at him.

"How long have you been planning this?"

"Long enough to know what I want."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the one you get, unless you're interested."

I nearly laughed. Here he was, proposing a business marriage, setting the rules as if everything had already been decided.

I pulled the folder closer.

"Before I even read this, I need something clear: Bellamy House isn't for sale."

"I never said it was."

"And I won't take any money that gives you a stake in the hotel. Not directly, not indirectly."

"You keep your ownership."

"Then write it in."

"It's already in there."

I flipped to the next page.

There it was-a clause that promised Bellamy House would stay in my name, and Mercer Holdings wouldn't get any ownership, no matter how much money changed hands.

I read it twice.

"You're paying off the entire debt?"

"Yes."

"And the renovations?"

"As long as they stick to the budget."

"What about staff? Their pay, their contracts?"

"That's on you, but I'll provide the funds so the hotel keeps running."

I frowned.

"That sounds generous."

He snorted. "Don't mistake business for generosity."

I met his eyes. "Trust me, I won't."

His face stayed calm, but I caught a twitch of his mouth.

I kept reading. The contract spelled out everything: public appearances, shared residence, confidentiality, the length of the marriage. Honestly, it was almost too detailed.

One section made me stop.

"Separate bedrooms?"

"Yes."

"You're particular about all this."

"I like knowing exactly what I've agreed to."

"Me too."

I turned another page. My eyebrow shot up.

"This says I have to attend three public events a month."

"Correct."

"That's overkill."

"It's reasonable."

"Not for someone running a hotel on the verge of collapse."

"Then we'll work the schedule around the hotel."

"We?"

"My assistant will handle it."

I closed the folder.

"Mr. Mercer, I appreciate the effort, but I won't be a prop at your parties."

His gaze sharpened.

"I never asked you to be."

"Then don't write it like you did."

We stared at each other for a long moment.

He reached for the folder.

"What do you want changed?"

I blinked.

"You'll negotiate?"

"I didn't expect you to just say yes to everything."

"Your attitude makes it hard to guess."

"Miss Calder, if I wanted someone who just agreed with me, I wouldn't have picked you."

I couldn't tell if that was meant as praise or an insult. With Rafe Mercer, probably both.

I reopened the contract.

"I want full control at Bellamy House-operations, staffing, business decisions. I need independent access to every account. And if you try to interfere with my ownership, I need the right to end this arrangement."

"That's fine."

"And my lawyer reviews the finances."

"Of course."

I studied him.

"You're agreeing pretty easily."

"These don't affect what I need."

"And what's that?"

He looked straight at me.

"A wife."

It was so blunt, I forgot to breathe for a second.

I stared at the contract.

"Why now?"

His expression shifted.

"What?"

"Why do you suddenly want a wife for twelve months? You're Rafe Mercer. You could have anyone."

"I don't want just anyone."

No hesitation.

I waited, but he didn't elaborate.

"Is someone else involved?" I tried. "Family, business, someone you need to impress?"

"That's not relevant."

"It is if you're asking me to marry you."

He leaned forward, hands on the table.

"My private life isn't open for discussion."

I held his stare.

"Then maybe you shouldn't ask someone to become part of it."

His eyes lost a bit of warmth.

"You're asking questions that have nothing to do with the contract."

"And you're asking me to make a life-altering decision without giving me a reason to trust you."

Long silence.

Then he stood.

"Take the contract. Have your lawyer look it over. You've got forty-eight hours."

"Forty-eight hours?"

"Your lender won't wait."

Perfect hit-he knew exactly where to aim.

I hated that he was right.

I gathered the papers, slid them back into my folder.

"I'll call you."

"Please do."

I stood up. Almost reached the door.

"Miss Calder."

I turned.

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Once you sign, I expect you to honor the agreement."

I offered a smile-nothing friendly about it.

"I could say the same for you, Mr. Mercer."

He didn't look away.

"Then we're clear."

I spent the afternoon in my lawyer's office.

By the time I left, my head throbbed.

The contract was possible, though my lawyer wanted revisions. She insisted the financial support should be written up separately, clearly keeping Bellamy House in my name.

"Do you understand what you're getting into?" she asked, sliding new documents toward me.

"I understand the contract."

"That's not what I meant."

I looked down.

She softened.

"Nessa, marriage isn't just a twelve-month business deal, no matter how tightly the contract's written. You're giving him access to your life."

"I know."

"And what if feelings get involved?"

I let out a breath.

"That's unlikely."

"You haven't met many men like Rafe Mercer, have you?"

"I've met enough wealthy men to know money doesn't guarantee a good husband."

"Then why even consider it?"

I glanced at the documents.

Because Bellamy House was dying.

Because my mother's staff depended on me.

Because every night I'd wondered which bill I'd miss next.

"I can't let the hotel disappear," I whispered.

My lawyer reached across, squeezed my hand.

"Don't lose yourself saving it."

I nodded, though I had no idea how to do that.

Back at Bellamy House, the lobby felt oddly quiet.

Mrs. Bennett, our housekeeper, was arranging flowers. She'd been with my mother for over twenty years, and lately, kept her worries hidden behind busy hands.

"You're back early, dear."

"I finished my meetings."

She eyed me carefully.

"Any good news?"

I tried to smile.

"Maybe."

Her face brightened.

"That's wonderful."

I couldn't bring myself to say more.

I headed toward my mother's office but paused-voices spilled out from the dining room.

Two staff members stood near the doorway.

"I heard the bank people are coming next week," one whispered.

"What'll happen to us?"

"I don't know. My daughter's starting university soon. I can't afford to lose this job."

I closed my eyes. Their fear was now mine.

I couldn't ask them to keep believing if I wasn't willing to fight.

My phone buzzed.

An email. Rafe Mercer.

REVISED MARRIAGE AGREEMENT.

I opened it.

He had accepted every change my lawyer wanted. Separate finances, ownership untouchable, operational independence spelled out.

At the bottom: My legal team is ready when you are.

He made it so simple to say yes.

Maybe that was the scariest part.

Next morning, I returned to Mercer headquarters.

Rafe waited in his office, reading something. When he saw me, he set it aside.

"Miss Calder."

"Mr. Mercer."

"Decided?"

I placed the contract on his desk.

"Almost."

His eyes narrowed.

"What's missing?"

"An answer."

"To what?"

I took a breath.

"Why me, Rafe?"

For the first time, I used his name. I hadn't even meant to.

He noticed.

His attention zeroed in on me.

"Because you're the woman I want to marry."

My heart tripped.

Finally, something personal, even if it sounded too easy.

I should have felt relieved.

Instead, I was unsure.

"You don't know me."

"I know enough."

"No, you know my finances, my hotel, my desperation. That's not the same."

He moved around the desk.

"Then tell me what I'm missing."

I met his gaze.

"I won't pretend. I won't give up Bellamy House, and your money won't dictate my life. If we do this, I stay Nessa Calder-not a sidekick to your name."

He stopped in front of me.

"Understood."

"And I won't promise to love you."

"I never asked you to."

"Good."

His eyes dropped to the contract in my hand.

"Are we done negotiating?"

I hesitated.

One question left.

"Is there anything about Bellamy House you haven't told me?"

For a split second, something flickered in his face.

It faded almost instantly.

"Why do you think so?"

"I'm just asking."

He held my gaze.

"Everything you need to know is in the agreement."

Not the answer I wanted.

But that foreclosure notice waited at home, and the hotel was running out of time.

I slid the contract across his desk.

"I'll sign."

He grabbed his pen.

"Good."

"Don't look so satisfied. This is just business."

"That's all I expect."

I signed.

He signed below.

Just like that, I became Rafe Mercer's temporary wife.

He closed the folder, handed it to his assistant.

"Announce it. We'll have a wedding on Friday."

"Friday?" I stared. "That's three days!"

"I don't see the point in waiting."

"Some people need time."

"What do you need?"

I opened my mouth, then shut it.

Arguing was pointless-he treated wedding planning like setting a meeting.

He glanced at his watch.

"My driver will take you home. My assistant will handle arrangements."

"I can drive myself."

"I know."

He lifted his phone, ending the conversation.

I turned for the door.

"Nessa."

I paused.

He rarely used my first name.

"When we announce, the press will have questions. You're expected to stand beside me like this marriage is real."

I turned back.

"Isn't it?"

His face gave nothing away.

"Legally, yes."

That unsettled me.

I left without another word.

Later, Rafe stood alone in his office.

The marriage agreement lay open on his desk.

His phone rang.

He answered, barely glancing at the screen.

"Secured her signature?" A man's voice.

"Yes."

"And she's still in the dark?"

His jaw clenched.

"Yes."

Quiet lingered.

"You're making a mistake, Rafe."

"That's my concern."

"Her mother's name's already tangled in this mess. If she finds out what happened before the wedding, she'll walk."

Rafe looked down at Nessa's signature.

"She won't find out."

"You're sure?"

He ended the call.

He stayed still for a moment.

Then he pulled an old file from his desk drawer.

Its cover: BELLAMY HOUSE - ORIGINAL LOAN ACQUISITION.

Below it, a document with his own signature-the same signature that had helped put Nessa, the woman he just married, in danger.