Chapter 2 A Perfect Deal

Amelia's POV:

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I froze, certain I had misheard. "What?"

"One year. A marriage of convenience. You'll have access to the best medical care for your son, a substantial living allowance, and a penthouse apartment in Cypress Central. When the year is up, you'll receive ownership of the apartment and we'll divorce amicably."

"I'm practical. I need a wife to secure my position at Carter Group. You need financial security for your son and to finish your college degree. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."

His calm logic made the absurd proposal sound almost reasonable. But I'd learned the hard way that when something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

"Why me?"

"Several reasons." His voice took on a harder edge. "You're desperate enough to consider it, but proud enough not to take advantage. You intrigue me." He paused, a cold smile playing at his lips. "And my grandfather, who insists I need to find 'true love' and 'family happiness' before he'll hand over control of Carter Group - well, let's just say bringing home an exotic dancer with a child will be... educational for him."

The calculated cruelty in his tone made me flinch. "So I'm just a weapon in your family war?"

"You're a solution to both our problems," he corrected smoothly. "Does it matter why, as long as you and your son get what you need?"

I felt my cheeks burn with shame and anger.

I stood up, needing distance. "I don't make life-changing decisions in VIP rooms."

He pulled out a business card, holding it between two fingers. "Take 24 hours. Think about your son's future. My lawyer will have the contract ready tomorrow."

I took the card, my fingers trembling slightly. The heavy cardstock felt like it was burning my skin.

"One more thing," he called as I turned to leave. "For the public and the press, we met at the Columbia Business School charity gala last month. My grandfather, however..." A cold smile played on his lips. "He'll get the unedited version after he hands over the company to me. I want him to know exactly who I'm bringing into the precious Carter family."

"You want me to be both your respectable wife and your dirty secret?" The bitterness in my voice surprised even me.

"Welcome to high society, Ms. Wilson." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Where everything has two versions - the one for the papers, and the truth." He pulled out his phone, tapped something into it, and then looked back at me. "If you decide to accept, come to my office tomorrow at 10 AM sharp. Carter Tower, top floor. My lawyer will have all the paperwork ready."

I clutched his business card tighter. "And if I don't show up?"

"Then this conversation never happened. But..." He gave me a knowing look that made my skin crawl. "Think about Lucas's future carefully before you make your decision."

I walked away, his business card burning in my hand like a brand. Each step felt heavier than the last as I realized what he was offering wasn't just a deal - it was a performance. I would be both the perfect society wife and the scandalous exotic dancer, depending on which role served his purpose better.

But with Lucas's medical bills piling up, did I really have the luxury of pride?

The next morning found me in the gleaming lobby of Carter Group headquarters, my worn blazer painfully out of place among the designer suits. The receptionist eyed me skeptically until I mentioned Luke's name. Her demeanor changed instantly.

"Mr. Carter is expecting you," she said, directing me to a private elevator.

His office occupied the entire top floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of Ivywood City. Luke stood at one of these windows, his broad shoulders outlined against the morning light.

"You came," he said, turning. In daylight, he was even more intimidating - perfectly groomed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my yearly income.

"I did." I lifted my chin.

He gestured to the leather chair facing his massive desk. "Please, sit." The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air as he moved past me to retrieve a thick document from a leather portfolio.

I focused on the papers, trying to ignore how he watched me read. Each clause was meticulously detailed – the duration of our arrangement, the public appearances required, and the rules about discretion. My hand paused when I reached the sections about Lucas.

"The medical coverage clause..." My voice caught slightly. The numbers were staggering - comprehensive health insurance, coverage for all specialist visits, medications, and physical therapy sessions. Everything Lucas would need for his juvenile rheumatoid arthritis treatment. No more choosing between his medications and physical therapy. No more begging the hospital for payment plans.

"Is this... all of it?" I asked, overwhelmed by the extent of the coverage.

"Read on," Luke said. He had moved closer, leaning against his desk mere inches from where I sat. "There's more."

I turned the page, my fingers trembling slightly. Private school tuition. A college fund. Monthly allowance. The numbers made me dizzy - more money than I'd ever see in a lifetime of working at Ivy Club.

"This is too much." I forced myself to look up at him, even as my throat tightened.

"Your son's health isn't negotiable." His voice dropped lower as he reached past me to point at another section, his arm brushing mine. The unexpected contact sent a jolt through my body. "Neither is his education."

"I can provide for him myself," I protested weakly, even as I thought of Lucas's brave face this morning, trying to hide his pain as he struggled with his breakfast spoon.

"Like you've been doing at Ivy Club?" His words weren't cruel, just matter-of-fact. His cologne was clouding my thoughts, making it hard to focus. "Working until 3 AM and then taking him to morning therapy sessions on two hours of sleep?"

I flinched. He'd done his homework.

"This isn't charity, Amelia." He was close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "It's a business arrangement. I need a wife who can attend social functions and charity events. That's difficult to do if you're exhausted from working nights."

His fingers brushed mine as he turned another page of the contract. "This section outlines our public appearances. I expect you to be available for corporate events, charity galas, and social functions."

I tried to focus on the words, but his proximity was distracting. When had he gotten so close? The air between us felt charged, heavy with something I wasn't ready to name.

"And what exactly am I expected to do at these events?" I managed to ask, proud that my voice remained steady.

He smiled, a predatory curve of his lips that made my stomach flip. "Be charming. Look beautiful. Play the role of the devoted wife."

"And in private?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them.