My Accidental Marriage to the Billionaire CEO

The elevator doors closed and I was alone with him. A billionaire who now called me his wife.

"Take off the ring," he said coldly the second his mother left. The warm, loving husband act vanished instantly.

I stared at him. "What?"

He poured two whiskeys, sliding one across the marble counter to me. "The act is over for tonight. My mother bought it. For now. But we need to get one thing clear, Ella. This is not real. This is business."

My hands were still shaking. I took the ring off. It left a red mark on my finger. It was so heavy.

"Good. Now sit. We have rules to set."

I sat on the edge of his ridiculously expensive white sofa, afraid to dirty it with my uniform.

He sat opposite me, still shirtless, still unfairly handsome, and opened a file on his laptop.

"I had my lawyer draft this while you were standing there looking terrified. You will get $100,000 at the end of 90 days. $20,000 upfront tomorrow to pay your rent and quit that catering job. You will move in here tomorrow morning. You will have your own room, your own bathroom, your own closet. You will not enter my room without knocking."

He spoke like he was reading a grocery list.

"You will be expected to attend three events per week with me. Dinners, galas, board meetings. My stylist will dress you. My driver will take you. You will smile, you will say 'Yes darling', and you will pretend you are madly in love with me."

I found my voice. "And what do I get besides money? I mean, what if your family hates me? Your mother looked like she wanted to call the police."

He actually laughed. A short, cold laugh. "My mother will love you. She has wanted me married for five years. She doesn't care if you were a waitress, a student, or an alien. She just wants grandkids."

Grandkids? My face went hot. "There will be NO grandkids! Rule 2 said no intimacy!"

"Relax. I don't want kids with a stranger either. It's just something she will ask. You will say 'We're taking our time'. That's all."

He slid the contract toward me again, this time with a pen.

"This time, really read it. And sign it. Or you can walk out that door right now and wait for the lawsuit papers for the ten million dollar contract you destroyed. The catering company already fired you, by the way. I got a text."

My blood ran cold. Fired? I needed that job.

He saw my face. "Don't look like that. It's not personal. It's just business. You ruined my deal, so I ruined your job. Now I'm offering you a better one. Being my wife is a promotion. Most women would kill for this chance."

"I'm not most women," I whispered, tears in my eyes.

"I know," he said quietly, and for a second his voice was softer. "That's why I chose you. Victoria was perfect. Beautiful, rich, connected. But she was fake. You... you spilled wine all over me in front of 200 people and your first instinct was to apologize with napkins. You're real."

I looked up, surprised by his words.

He quickly looked away, his cold mask back on. "Don't get ideas. It's just an observation. Now sign."

I looked down at the paper. $100,000. Debt gone. Rent paid. No more catering. Just 90 days of pretending. I could do 90 days. I had survived four years of college with no money, I could survive 90 days with a handsome jerk in a penthouse.

I picked up the pen.

"What happens if I break a rule? Like... if I accidentally fall for you?" I tried to joke, but my voice cracked.

He leaned forward, his grey eyes dark and serious, inches from my face. I could smell whiskey and his cologne.

"Then you will get hurt, Ella. Because I don't do love. My last engagement just ended with my fiancée sleeping with my business partner. Love is a liability I can't afford. So do yourself a favor. Don't fall for me."

His words should have been a warning, but my stupid heart beat faster.

I signed. Ella Scott, in messy, shaky handwriting, right next to Alexander Knight's perfect, strong signature.

The moment the ink dried, he stood up.

"Good. Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Knight. Your room is the second door on the left. Be ready by 8 AM. My stylist will be here. And Ella?"

"Yes?"

"Try not to spill anything on the sheets. They're $5,000."

And with that, he walked into his bedroom and closed the door, leaving me alone in his huge, cold, beautiful penthouse, wearing a catering uniform and holding a contract that just made me a billionaire's wife for 90 days.

What had I just done?I stood there for a long time after his door closed. The penthouse was silent except for the hum of the city far below. I was alone. Really alone. In a stranger's home, wearing a stranger's ring, having just signed my life away.

I walked to my room - the second door on the left. It was bigger than my entire apartment. A king-size bed with white sheets that really did look like they cost $5000. A closet already half full of boxes. I opened one. Dresses. Designer dresses with tags still on. Shoes. He had actually had someone shop for me.

I sat on the bed and finally let the tears come. What was I doing? I was 22. I was supposed to be studying for finals, not married to a cold billionaire who hated me.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "This is Alexander. My driver will pick you up My phone buzzed again. Another text from Alexander: "Stop overthinking and sleep. You look terrible when you cry. 6 AM is sharp. Don't make me come get you."

I stared at the message. Was that supposed to be caring? Or was he just being a jerk again? I couldn't tell with him. One second he was cold, the next second he was looking at me like I was the only real person in his fake world.

I typed back: "I don't look terrible. And I'm not crying."

Three dots appeared instantly. He replied: "Your mascara on my guest pillow says otherwise. Goodnight, accidental wife."

I touched my cheek. My mascara was indeed smudged. I threw the phone on the bed and screamed into the pillow - the $5000 pillow. It smelled like him. Cold and expensive and annoyingly perfect.

90 days. I just had to survive 90 days without falling for my billionaire husband.