Chapter 5: The Proposal

Jonathan’s Point of View

Months had passed, and I still hadn’t found a suitable wife. The clock was ticking, but it wasn’t desperation that gnawed at me. It was frustration. I had vetted many women-most beautiful, smart, and driven. But none of them were right. They all shared something in common: they wanted more from me than I was willing to give.

Marriage. A real one. They wanted love, affection, connection. Things I didn’t have the time or desire for. I wasn’t a man built for love. I was built for power, control. And I’d be damned if I let my father’s last wish strip that away from me.

Instead, I had passed my nights with brief distractions: women who knew the deal-no strings, no emotions. Just temporary pleasure. But each morning, I woke up to the same problem staring me in the face: this deadline looming over my head, the board hovering and waiting for any sign of weakness. I needed a solution, and fast.

I leaned back in my office chair, staring out at the city skyline. My reflection stared back at me, unrelenting, cold as ice. But beneath it all, there was the barest flicker of something new-doubt. I hated it. I wasn’t a man who second-guessed himself. I made decisions, and I stood by them. Now, though, time seemed to be running out, taking my control with it.

I massaged my temples, as the tension seemed to mount with each passing day. There must have been a way around this without turning my life into some sort of romantic circus. The very thought of faking affection, of playing the loving husband, sent goosebumps running down my skin. There had to be an easier way out. A practical one.

A knock on my office door snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Come in,” I called, my voice more irritated than I intended.

The door opened and Chloe Jackson stepped inside, her hands full with the usual stack of paperwork. As ever she was all efficiency, her dark brown hair pulled tight into a neat bun, her expression serious. She moved around my office like part of the furniture, greasing the wheels of every aspect of my life with seamless ease, both professional and personal. She knew me better than anyone-at least, she knew the version of me that I let people see.

“Mr. Wells, these need your signature before the end of the day,” she said, slapping the papers down on my desk without so much as looking up. Always professional. Always detached. It was one of the things I appreciated most about Chloe. She never pried, never asked questions about my personal life. She did her job and left her emotions at the door.

As she began to move away, something just clicked into place inside my head. A thought that hadn’t occurred to me, really. I watched her, my eyes narrowing as I contemplated the possibilities. Chloe. Of course.

“Chloe,” I called, softer this time, but my head was racing.

She turned around to face me at the door. “Yes, Mr. Wells?”

I had stared at her for what felt like an eternity as my thoughts seemed to curdle into a plan. Chloe was it. The answer. She had absolutely no romantic interest in me, and I-most definitely-did not have any feelings for her. It was simply a professional development of mutual respect over time, based on a level that at least in my eyes was particularly much-needed. No complications, no emotions.

“What do you think of marriage?” I asked as I closely watched her reaction.

Her face scrunched up, eyes furrowing in confusion. “Marriage?” she echoed, her voice hesitant. “I don’t understand your meaning, sir.”

I rose from my chair, rounding the desk as my eyes never strayed from hers. “I mean, what are your views about marriage. As a business arrangement?”

Her eyes were wide with surprise, her lips parted in a silent gasp, before she regained her poise. “I have never thought of that,” she said warily. “Why do you ask?”

I crossed the room, stopping just in front of her, close enough to see the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m going to be straight-forward, Chloe. The one condition that my father has in his will for me to inherit the company is that I must get married within one year, or the board takes control of Wells Enterprise.”

She blinked, taking a step back as the weight of my words finally sunk in. “And you… haven’t found anyone suitable?”

I shook my head. “No one who understands what this is. They all want more than I’m willing to give. I don’t need love or romance. I need someone practical, someone who knows how to keep up appearances without expecting anything beyond that.

Chloe’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “And you think I could be that someone?”

I nodded, my eyes steady. “You’ve worked for me for years. You know how I operate. You’ve never shown interest in my personal life, and I’ve never crossed that line with you. This would be a contract, Chloe. A business deal. Nothing more. You marry me for a year, and in exchange, I’ll provide you with financial security.”

She stumbled, her eyes dipping into mine in a search for hidden motives. “Financial security?” she asked, with not an ounce of confidence.

I nodded, aware exactly where her mind was about to turn. “Your sister. Emily. I know her medical bills are growing. I could see that they’re all taken care of. You wouldn’t have to worry about her getting the treatment she needs. Ever.”.

That struck a chord. I saw it in her face, the war flitting across her face. Chloe was intelligent, prudent. She wouldn’t say yes to such a thing without giving it some serious thought, but I knew her Achilles’ heel-her sister. She’d do anything for her.

She crossed her arms, a defensive move. “So, we get married, I pretend to be your wife for a year, and then what? We divorce?”

“Exactly,” I said. “It’s a temporary arrangement. A year later, you are free to leave, and with a lot more in compensation for your time.”

Chloe stared at the floor, heavy in her thoughts. The room fell silent, and I let her process. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head, the weight of my proposition settling onto her shoulders. Torn was what she was-I knew that much. But I also knew the kind of woman Chloe was: practical, logical. She wouldn’t walk away from an opportunity like this.

Centuries, it seemed, passed before she raised her head-her eyes finally steady. “I need some time to think about it.”

“Of course,” I said, stepping back to give her space. “But don’t take too much time. We don’t have enough left.”

She nodded, and wordlessly turned and disappeared out of the office, quietly shutting the door behind her.

I exhaled as tension released from my body. Chloe was the perfect candidate for the job-no emotions, no drama, just business. That was the only way I would get through this mess and not lose everything it had taken me years to acquire.

I leaned back into my chair, certain it would only be a question of time before she came round. She would agree to the deal-I was sure of it. And with that, everything would fall into place.

***

Two days later, Chloe stood in my office again, but this time, her expression was different. Resigned, yet determined.

“I’ll do it,” she said, her voice firm.

Relief washed over me, though I schooled my face into neutrality. “Great. We’ll get the contract typed up immediately.”

She said nothing for a moment, her eyes flashing up to catch mine. “It’s just a business arrangement, then? No expectations… beyond that?”

I nodded. “Exactly. No feelings applied. It’s just a contract.”

She blew out a deep breath and nodded. “Then I’ll sign it.”

When she signed on the dotted line, I felt a rush of excitement. The wheels were in full motion. A year from now, I would own the company- and Chloe would fly away scot-free.

What could go wrong?