CHAPTER 2

Adrian shut the heavy oak door to his office with a bang; the sound reverberated in the room. He frowned more as he ran a hand through his thick black hair, still thinking about the meeting he had just left. His jaw was tense as he walked to his desk, the heels of his shiny shoes clicking sharply on the floor.

"Adrian," a familiar voice said, bringing him out of his reverie. His grandmother's attorney, Tiller, stood by the window, his dark suit impeccable. Beside him, Marcus, Adrian's best friend and COO, leaned back casually against the armrest of one of the soft chairs, looking careful.

"What is it now, Tiller?" Adrian asked sharply as he sat down in his chair. His fingers began drumming on the wooden desk, evidence that he was impatient. "I thought we wrapped up my grandmother's estate months ago."

Tiller, adjusting his glasses, stepped closer, carrying a nice leather briefcase. "Ordinarily, we would be, but something has risen that requires your prompt attention."

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"

Tiller opened the briefcase carefully and withdrew a sheaf of papers. He laid them on Adrian's desk pointedly. "An inheritance clause," he said, his voice even but firm. "It was in your grandmother's original will, but it didn't take effect until now.".

Adrian glanced over at Marcus. His friend's eyebrows were squished together, and he was sitting up a little straighter than usual. He turned back to Tiller and leaned forward. "What sort of clause?"

Tiller cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "To continue being the CEO of Sterling Industries, you'll have to be married three months from the date today and stay married for at least two years."

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the distant hum of cars outside. Adrian looked over at Tiller, his lips compressed into a thin line.

“You’re joking,” he finally said, though his tone suggested he knew otherwise.

" I assure you, Mr. Sterling, I am not," Tiller said, unruffled. He indicated the papers. "The bylaws are very specific here. If you fail to obey them, your stock and officer position will pass on to the next fitting family member."

Adrian's jaw clenched. "She's always been up to something, hasn't she?" he muttered, his voice low. "Even from beyond the grave.".

Marcus let out a low whistle. "Your grandmother always did know how to keep things interesting."

"Interesting is not the word I would use.” Adrian snapped. He picked up the papers and read them, his frown getting worse with each paragraph. "Why would she do this? She knew I did not want to settle down any time soon.

Tiller gave a small smile. "Maybe she thought it was best for the company—and you."

Adrian's lips were tight. He threw the papers back on the desk and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Thank you, Tiller. You can leave now."

The lawyer nodded. "Of course. Please let me know what you decide to do next."

When Tiller left, Marcus stood up straight, his sharp blue eyes on Adrian. "So," he said, crossing his arms, "what are you going to do?"

Adrian blew out a fast breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know yet."

“Well, you’ve got three months to figure it out,” Marcus said, his tone laced with both concern and amusement. “That’s not a lot of time to find a wife. Especially one willing to sign up for a two-year contract.”

Adrian threw him a pointed look. "I don't need your observations, Marcus.".

Marcus raised his hands as if giving up. “I’m just saying. This isn’t really your strong suit.”

Adrian waved him off. “I’ll handle it. You’re dismissed.”

Marcus paused, his mouth opened as if to argue, but he changed his mind. He shook his head a little and walked to the door. “Good luck, man. You’re going to need it.”

The door closed behind him, and Adrian was left alone in the large office. He got up and began to pace back and forth with his hands deep in his pockets. The gravity of the situation weighed very heavily upon him.

Marry within three months. Stay married for two years.

The thought churned in his mind like a storm. How in the world was he to find a wife on such short notice? He wasn't the kind of man who dated casually, let alone fell into an arrangement as serious as marriage. The women he had been with in the past were fleeting at best—none of them the type to agree to this arrangement.

The intercom on his desk gave a sharp buzz, truncating his meandering thoughts. He rose and thumbed the button. "What is it, Owen?"

"Samuel Winters is on the phone," his secretary said, courteous but stern. "Should I connect him?"

Adrian frowned, his eyebrows coming together. Samuel Winters? The name sounded familiar, yet he did not expect to hear it today. "Yes. Connect him."

The phone rang a short while later, and Adrian picked it up. "Adrian Sterling."

“Adrian,” Samuel’s voice drawled on the other end, smooth and slightly mocking. “I trust I’m not interrupting anything too pressing.”

Adrian's lips moved in annoyance. Samuel was a shady businessman, always mixing in charm with being rude. "What do you want, Winters?"

“I heard about your problem,” Samuel said, clearly amused. “You’re in quite a tough spot, I must say.”

Adrian tensed up. "How do you know about that?"

 "News travels fast," Samuel said breezily. "Particularly when it's about someone like you. You know how much the corporate world loves to gossip."

Adrian ground his teeth together. "If you called to gloat, I'm hanging up."

“Relax,” Samuel said with a gloating chuckle. “I’m calling to offer a solution.”

 Adrian narrowed his eyes. "I don't want your solution."

"Don't be in such a hurry to get rid of me.”.Samuel said. “You're going to have to get married, aren't you? And I know someone who will be a perfect match."

 Adrian stopped and grabbed hold of the receiver tightly. "What do you mean?"

Samuel was speaking in a devious tone. "Let's just say it could help both of us. I'll send you the details. Think about it." Before Adrian could respond, the line went dead.

He slowly lowered the receiver, his mind racing. Samuel Winters didn't do anything without an ulterior motive. Whatever he was offering would come with strings attached.