Carter industries' launching new technology and revamping their e-commerce platform. Andrei's planned a commemoration and his celebratory mood is the last thing I want to mess up, but what I saw last night was seriously weird. I'm freaked out by the idea that Eva might want to harm me. The memory of her standing at my doorway still unsettles me. It's giving me major chills just thinking about it. “What's wrong, Brielle?” Andrei rolls into my bedroom, his face etched with concern. “Not sure what to wear?” My gaze flickers to the wardrobe, filled with a luxurious array of high-end clothing. I inwardly curse myself, realizing that I hadn't even thought about what to wear for the event. “This will be our first official public appearance as a couple. You need to get ready.” Andrei moves to the wardrobe, a determined look on his face. “Come on, seriously we need to find something for you," he urges, already sifting through the bountiful selection of outfits. I watch him with a m
“Three hours already?” I mutter, glancing at my watch before berating myself with a mental eye roll. 'Chill out Brielle. Not every little thing is a conspiracy. Quit being so paranoid.' I try to convince myself that Eva is just messing with my head. Yeah, she is manipulative, but that doesn't mean she's going to pull something crazy in the next few hours I turn my attention the flurry of handshakes, polite smiles, and forced small talk, but the sense of unease refuses to abate, and I'm glancing over my shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of Eva amidst the crowd. Her threats linger in my mind, 'Just stop being paranoid, Brielle!' I reprimand myself, trying to shake off the mounting dread. 'Get it together, or tell Andrei what a demon Eva is and that's setting you on edge.' With guests filtering out of the hall, I scan the room for any trace of Eva, but she remains absent. Andrei and I take pictures with associates, his grin shining through behind that mask. He's so obviously
The car's headlights are still on, glaring right at us. Andrei, who's supposed to be confined to a wheelchair, turns to face the headlights with a look that could kill. I turn my head to see who is behind the wheel, and the answer is all too clear: it's Eva. She's gripping the steering wheel tight, her eyes wide with shock. Andrei rises to his feet, a single-minded determination in his eyes as he storms towards the car. With one swift motion, he yanks open the driver's side door, revealing a petrified Eva behind the wheel. She's frozen in fear, her eyes darting between Andrei's furious glare and the two perfectly formed limbs supporting his towering frame. I shift my weight, propping myself up on my elbows, my own disbelief mirrored in the shock on Eva's face. It's impossible, yet undeniable—the man we thought was confined to a wheelchair is standing before us, whole, broken. Eva finally steps out of the car, her movements stiff and awkward, her eyes never leaving Andrei'
Eva just keeps on butting in, trying to act all concerned and meddling like she doesn't have anything to do with the mess we're in. “It's good to see you've made such a miraculous recovery, Andrei.” “I don't wanna talk to you right now, Eva. Not after what you pulled back there…" Andrei snaps. “Everything that happened was an accident. I never intended for it…" She begins, trying to justify her reckless driving, but Andrei isn't having it. He briskly ushers me into the front seat of his car, shutting the door firmly behind me. Through the side mirror, I can still see them, their mouths moving in a frenzied back-and-forth. Eva is clearly trying to explain herself, but Andrei looks like he's not buying a word of it. It's a relentless back-and-forth. Andrei is in such a hurry to get away that you'd think the ground beneath him was on fire. Eva tries to keep up, matching his pace as they argue, she won't let go, determined to get her point across even as Andrei continues
Brielle's POV It takes a moment for me to work up the nerve, but eventually, I find the words. “How did the miracle happen?” “It wasn't a miracle. I worked for it… I put in the time, the effort, the pain, I pushed my body beyond what it thought it could do, and I walked again…" My eyes wander, drawn to the source of my confusion and doubt. They land on Andrei's legs, and I think to myself, 'How the hell did he manage to do all that PT without me knowing,' “Don't gawk like that. It's distracting.” Andrei snaps. He keeps his eyes trained on the road, the muscles in his jaw clenched as if he's biting back a harsher response. I get the message loud and clear, and I quickly shift my gaze away. I take a deep breath, the air in the car suddenly feeling stifling as I struggle to find the right words. “It's… um, it's really amazing, Mr. Carter… It's hard to believe that you were confined to a wheelchair just a few months ago, and now… now you're walking.” “Thought I clarified it, M
Brielle's POV It's Andrei's turn to laugh, and he's just daring me to come at him. “I cheated on you? Really? You don't believe a thing I say, do you? What's the real issue here, Brielle?” “You hurt my feelings, Andrei Carter. By impregnating your ex-girlfriend, you've shown that you don't respect me or our union, so let's put an end to this." "Thick as a brick, stubborn as a mule... those traits really suit you, Ms. Monroe. I've tried to get through to you, to explain myself, but you're as deaf as a stone to reason. You'd rather cling to your misconceptions than actually try to understand." “Understand what, exactly?” I retort, my voice rising with frustration. “You're telling me that I'm supposed to believe you didn't sleep with your ex when she's claiming you did? Am I supposed to accept that this baby just appeared out of thin air? Like some divine intervention or something_" “I never slept with Eva,” Andrei grits out, his jaw tightening with each word, "Not once, not ev
Brielle's POV Good lord, I think I may have gotten myself into a mess with Andrei Carter. Gone is the sweet, injured guy in the wheelchair, and in his place is a man who's making my heart race and my knees shake. He's got charm and strength that's making me second-guess myself. I'm starting to think that I bit off more than I can chew with this him. I catch his gaze and my heart skips a beat. The intensity of his stare sending a thrill through me. His hair is tousled up, a stark contrast to the polished CEO look he usually sports. He's not playing around, that much is clear. “Andrei, I have got to hand it to you” I say, trying to keep my cool even though my heart's racing a mile a minute. “You've done a complete 180 in the past day, and, I'm totally lost trying to figure out who you even are anymore. It's like you're a whole different person.” “Brielle, This is nothing but a bit of risqué conversation between two consenting adults.” He smiles, his fingers gesturing leisurely
Brielle's POV “I'm making good on that deal of hours. You said let's wait until Mr. Carter can stand again, and here I am, standing on my own two feet. And you, my dear, are losing yours.” He tuts, shaking his head as his hands rest on his waist. He's all, “Aw, too bad for you,” with that pitying look in his eye. “Andrei, That was nothing but a playful joke, and I certainly did not anticipate that you would take my words so literally. I had no intention of being 'eaten alive,' as you so colorfully put it.” “I promise, Ms. Monroe. My intentions are purely pleasurable.” Pleasurable? I freeze, my mind racing as I try to decipher his meaning. What the hell does he mean by 'eating me'? I think to myself. 'Is he talking about, like, performing_' I briskly shake the thought off. “Out with it, Andrei,” I snap, “No more playing games. Talk straight already.” “No pretenses, Ms. Monroe – I'm a diagnosed psychopath. I… I have a complete obsession with sinking my teeth into the fle
Andrei's POV. My fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to dish out another serving of banter, when a sixth sense alerts me to Paul’s presence. Instinctively, my face shifts from its usual mask of irreverent charm into a serious, professional veneer. Shutting my laptop, I gaze at Paul with interest, “New York… did you conquer the city, or did it conquer you?” Paul chuckles, “I think the city won this round. I got lost in Times Square for an hour, but, it… It was worth it.” “Don't worry. Getting lost in Times Square is just the city's way of saying, 'You're welcome to come back anytime'.” Paul's laughter trails off, and I swiftly shift gears, my expression transforming from amusement to intensity. “Brief me,” “It's not good, boss. Ms. McCarthy's has somehow managed to get on Valtor's radar, and now she's facing some very real and very serious threats.” “They're on her tail?” “More like they're closing in. We're running out of time.” What was she thinking? Getting mixed up wit
Brielle's POV Coffee in hand, I glance out the window, checking out the morning view… and my gaze lands on that super creepy spot. I could've sworn I saw someone watching me from there last night. It's just so unsettling. I keep replaying it in my head, trying to make sense of it, but it just leaves me with this creepy, crawly feeling that refuses to go away. I shudder, shaking off the uneasy feeling. I set my coffee down, refocus on my screen, and begin typing out my email, “Dear Mr. Carter, congratulations. You've managed to turn me into a millionaire with no idea how to spend it. I've dreamt of this day my whole life, and now that it's here, I'm just… stuck. My bank account is overflowing, and I'm starting to feel like Scrooge McDuck, swimming in vaults of gold coins. Help?" I hit send and wait, my eyes fixed on the screen. Minutes later, my email pings. Andrei's response has arrived. "Spending money is an art form, Ms Monroe. I recommend starting with something clas
Brielle's POV Marcus's gaze meets mine as I step out of the vehicle, his head inclining slightly in a formal nod. “Ms. Monroe.” “Marcus,” I say, deadpan, and he nods solemnly. It's a ridiculous game we play, but I've grown fond of this little dance, this familiar back-and-forth that never gets old. A realization strikes me, a sudden epiphany that halts my journey to the front door. “Well, isn't this a pickle in a jam jar?” I mutter to myself. “This morning, I strode out of this house on a mission—to become a free woman by sundown. Instead, I’m returning, engaged.” The diamond ring on my finger sparkles. I glance at it, feeling a flutter in my chest. No, I won't take it off. It's a symbol of belonging – to someone who's stolen my heart. I spin around, and there's Marcus, waiting. I don't want to keep him hanging around, so I head inside, trying to be all graceful and stuff. Let's just say I'm feeling delightfully… rumpled. As I swing open the front door, a symphony of sizzles
Brielle's POV “She said you'd betray me,” Andrei responds, and feel the tension rolling off him. He's clearly got some pent-up emotions brewing beneath the surface. “You believed her.” The words slice out of my mouth, my tone more accusatory than I meant it to be. “Somewhat…" He shakes his head as if to dispel the memory. “I don't want to believe her. I don't want to think that you'd ever do that to me.” He rips off the black pants he'd put on just moments ago and strides over to his wardrobe. He yanks out a fresh pair of distressed denims and slides them on. The jeans are perfectly faded, with ripped knees and frayed hems that give Andrei a rough-around-the-edges vibe. “Oh, Andrei, I’m not surprised. Those accusations didn’t come from thin air, did they? Someone put them in your head, someone gave them life. Someone twisted your faith in me.” My stare falls, settling on the knotted sheets tangled around my legs. “Enough of this nonsense. We've got business to attend to. Mr
Brielle's POV A limp noodle, a happy mess… Post-coital bliss has turned me into a lazy, love struck lump. I think I might be smiling… no, scratch that, I'm definitely smiling… on the inside and out… it's a smile that says, I'm happy, I'm sated, and I'm not moving from this spot for at least an hour. “Lost in thought, Ms. Monroe?” Andrei smirks, that devilish glint in his eye making my heart skip a beat. “What's on your mind?” I look at him, with his tousled, ‘I-just-got-laid’ hair and that perfectly imperfect smile, I can’t help but smile back. “Just thinking about how ridiculously perfect you are, even when you’re a complete mess.” “Oh, is that all? Well, if it’s perfection you’re looking for, you’ve definitely come to the right place.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head with a grin. “You’re unbelievable.” With a soft sigh, he turns to his side, his chest bare and rippling with muscle. My gaze drifts over his smooth, perfect skin, and I feel a flutter in my chest. I clutch the
Brielle's POV I'm looking at Andrei hunting for that signature spark of trouble that ignites his eyes, ready to unleash a torrent of teasing and laughter at my expense. There’s no playfulness in his voice, no trace of that smirking smile that usually hides whatever he’s feeling. “Brielle, I've spent years negotiating contracts, but none as important as this. Will you be my wife, not just on paper, but in every way? My heart races as the truth hits me: this is real – Andrei's proposing.” “Yes,” the word just slips out, a whisper that's almost lost in the silence… I'm not even sure I said it out loud. “Yes,” I repeat, my voice stronger now, surer. “Yes, Andrei, I’ll marry you. For a fleeting instant, he's a kid on Christmas morning, beaming with excitement….it's not quite steady. His jaw muscles twitch, slightly. “We'll pretend to be apart, to make them think we've gone our separate ways. It's the only way to keep you protected, to keep them guessing and off our trail. We'l
Brielle's POV Mr. Weston, the picture of professional unease, twitches in his chair “Mr. Carter, are you sure—” “Affirmative. Revise the agreement to reflect a payout of $100 Million, effective immediately.” Suddenly, it's like time stands still. All I can hear is my ragged breathing and Mr Weston's faint intake of breath. He looks taken aback, his eyes darting uncertainly between me and Andrei. Andrei's eyes narrow slightly, his gaze intensifying as he studies me. He looks fascinated, like a scientist examining a rare specimen. “Is that what you want?” he echoes, his tone playful, almost teasing. The scoff that escapes my lips is half contempt, half exasperation. “What I want?” I repeat, my voice steelier now, “I want you to stop treating me like some sort of business venture. I’m not an employee, I’m not a shareholder, and I sure as hell am not a transaction.” Andrei's head jerks in a curt nod. Mr. Weston needs no further explanation; he scoops up his papers, rising sm
Brielle's POV We roll up to the Carter Estate in that sleek, silent machine of a car, and my nerves start going haywire like a bunch of ants at a picnic. Why am I this freaking nervous? It's not like I'm about to meet the Queen of England. I've handled tougher audiences – like my aunt Mildred's grilling at Thanksgiving dinner or that infamous TV conference where I accidentally swore and cursed at the journalists, including Eva Adams. Our press conference three days ago was a carefully choreographed dance, where I aimed to humanize Andrei Carter, all while preparing for the possibility that he'd announce our divorce on live TV. I couldn't help but think: This is it. This is how I die. Not from a broken heart, but from embarrassment, however, The elephant in the room remained unaddressed even though the news had already spread like wildfire. The car rolls to a stop, the sudden stillness jolting me out of my thoughts. Marcus, moves to open the door, which I take as my cue to vacat
Brielle's POV. Gazing at the mirror… Wow. … I'm a walking, breathing embodiment of corporate style. My pencil skirt is a streamlined, black number highlights my curves without being… overly revealing. My stilettos are a three-inch pointed toe box with a glossy finish a red sole that adds a pop of color to my outfit. I look like I just stepped out of a magazine ad for 'Successful Women Who Don’t Need No Man.' From the outside, I’m polished, professional, and put-together. But on the inside, I’m a total dumpster fire disguised as a grown-ass woman. I’m like a fancy chocolate truffle—shiny and sweet on the outside, but a melty, gooey mess on the inside. “And the award for ‘Most Uncomfortable Signing Session’ goes to…me, Brielle!” I whisper, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s just hope the divorce papers aren’t written in blood—that would be a real b*tch to clean up.” I adjust my blouse, smoothing out any wrinkles, as if that’s going to make this whole ordeal any easier. Da