I paced back and forth in my penthouse, my heart thumping. The ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner seemed to mock me, each second bringing me closer to financial collapse. I ran my hands through my hair, undoubtedly ruining it up beyond repair, but for once, I didn't care.
Mia will be here any minute. I'd asked her to come over, suggesting I had an important business pitch for her. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. I wanted her aid, terribly, but I wasn't sure how to ask for it.
The elevator dinged, and I spun around. Mia went out, looking effortlessly stunning in a simple top and slacks. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her brown eyes widened as she took in my untidy appearance.
"Dylan? Are you okay?" she questioned, concern clear in her voice.
I forced a smile. "Never better. Can I get you a drink?"
She shook her head. "No, thanks. What's this about? Your communication seemed urgent."
I signaled for her to sit on the leather sofa, and I perched on the edge of the coffee table across from her. Our knees were almost touching, and I could smell her mild, floral perfume. It was distracting, to say the least.
"Mia, I need to ask you something," I began, my mouth suddenly dry. "It's... unconventional, to say the least."
She leaned forward, her brow wrinkled. "Okay, you're starting to worry me. What's going on?"
I took a deep breath. "I need you to marry me."
Mia's jaw dropped. For a time, she just gazed at me, and I could practically feel the wheels working in her head. Then she laughed, a brief, unbelieving sound.
"Very funny, Dylan. What's this truly about?"
"I'm serious, Mia. I need you to marry me. It's... it's about my father's will."
Her laughter faded, replaced by a look of uncertainty. "Your father's will? What does that have to do with us getting married?"
I stood up, unable to sit motionless any longer. "There's a clause in the will. If I'm not married by my 30th birthday, I lose everything. The firm, the fortune, all of it."
Mia's eyes widened. "Everything? But that's... that's nuts. Why would your father do that?"
I shrugged, feeling the weight of my father's expectations heavy on my shoulders. "To teach me responsibility, I guess. To compel me to grow up. I don't know."
"And your birthday is..."
"In three weeks," I finished for her.
Mia rose up, shaking her head. "Dylan, this is crazy. You can't merely marry someone because of a stipulation in a will. Marriage is meant to be about love, about commitment."
I turned to face her, desperation creeping into my voice. "I know, I know. But Mia, think about it. It's not just about me. If I lose the company, thousands of people could lose their employment. The charitable foundations my father put up could lose their funds. It's bigger than just my trust fund."
She bit her lip, and I could see the conflict in her gaze. "But why me? Why not one of the socialites you typically date?"
I ran a hand through my hair again. "Because I trust you, Mia. You're brilliant, you're kind, and you comprehend this planet. And... and I know you won't try to take advantage of the circumstance."
Mia moved away, strolling towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. The sun was sinking, coloring the sky in tones of orange and pink. For a long period, she was silent, and I held my breath, waiting.
Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "What exactly are you proposing, Dylan?"
I moved to stand alongside her, our reflections misty in the glass. "A marriage of convenience. We get married, stay married for a year or two, then quietly divorce. I'll make sure you're well compensated, of course. You might use the money to sponsor your own initiatives, travel the world, whatever you choose."
She turned to look at me, her eyes searching mine. "And what about love, Dylan? What if one of us falls in love with someone else during this... arrangement?"
My heart skipped a beat at the concept, though I couldn't quite understand why. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. But for now, it's just business. A mutually beneficial arrangement."
Mia nodded slowly, then took a long breath. "I have conditions."
I felt a burst of hope. "Name them."
"First, we maintain this arrangement between us. No one else can know the truth, not even Jake."
I nodded. "Agreed. What else?"
"Second, we make this look authentic. If we're going to do this, we do it correctly. No cheating, no scandals. We act like a real couple in public."
"Of course," I answered hastily. "Anything else?"
Mia's eyes hardened slightly. "Yes. If I do this, I want a seat on your company's board. Not simply as a figurehead, but as a complete member with voting rights."
I blinked, astonished by her suggestion. It made sense, though. Mia was intelligent, and her thoughts may be helpful to the firm. Plus, it would make our marriage look more official to the public.
"Done," I said. "Is that all?"
She nodded, then reached out her hand. "One more thing. We need to write all of this down, make it official. I want a contract, Dylan. Something that protects both of us."
I took her hand, feeling a strange mix of comfort and something else I couldn't quite define. "Absolutely. We'll ask the attorneys to draw something out tomorrow."
Mia's hand felt warm in mine, and for a moment, we just stood there, the weight of what we were about to do hanging between us. Then she moved away, clearing her throat.
"So, um, how do we do this? Do you have a ring, or...?"
I laughed, some of the strain breaking. "God, I'm an idiot. I didn't even thought about a ring. We'll go shopping tomorrow. Get you whatever you want."
She nodded, a faint smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. "Alright then, Future Husband. I think we're engaged."
I grinned, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. "I guess we are, Future Wife."
Mia giggled, shaking her head. "This is insane, you know that, right?"
"Completely," I agreed. "But thank you, Mia. Really. You're saving my life here."
She stretched out and squeezed my arm. "Just don't make me regret it, okay?"
I covered her hand with mine. "I won't. I promise."
As Mia turned to leave, taking her purse and walking for the elevator, I felt a weird reluctance to see her go. She hesitated at the elevator doors, looking back at me with an unreadable face.
"Dylan," she whispered gently. "There's something I need to tell you. Something that might change everything."
My heart leaped into my throat. "What is it?"
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Mia stepped inside, her finger hesitating over the button for the lobby. Her eyes met mine, brimming with an emotion I couldn't comprehend.
"I'll tell you tomorrow," she said. "Goodnight, Dylan."
As the doors closed, separating us, I was left standing alone in my apartment, my mind racing. What did Mia need to tell me? And why did I have the feeling that our meticulously prepared strategy was about to grow a lot more complicated?