CHAPTER TWO--- THE PROPOSITION

Zara tried to pull away, but Adrian's grip didn't budge. The warmth of his hand seemed to burn through the thin silk of her dress, sending unwanted shivers along her skin. "Let go of me, Mr. Cross, or I'll—"

"Make a scene?" His smile didn't reach his eyes, but something flickered in their depths that made her pulse quicken. "Please do. I'm sure security would love to examine your expired press credentials."

Her blood ran cold. How did he know? She stopped struggling, and he immediately released her arm, though his hand moved to the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd. The touch was barely there, but she felt it like a brand.

"Much better," he said, steering her toward a quiet corner of the ballroom. The space he chose was partially concealed behind a massive floral arrangement, offering an illusion of privacy while keeping them visible enough to avoid gossip. "Now, let's discuss your rather dramatic fall from grace."

"I don't see how that's any of your business." Zara fought to keep her voice steady, though her heart hammered against her ribs. The corner was intimate, forcing them to stand close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

"Everything in this city is my business, Ms. James." He signaled a waiter, who appeared instantly with two glasses of champagne. His fingers brushed hers as he handed her a glass, the contact sending electricity through her veins. "Especially when it involves someone foolish enough to investigate Senator Williams without proper... protection."

She accepted the champagne but didn't drink it, using the glass as a barrier between them. "Is that a threat?"

"An observation." Adrian's gaze swept over her, lingering on the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts, the way her dress clung to her hips. But it wasn't a lustful assessment—he was cataloging her, the way she'd seen him evaluate business acquisitions in photos. "You're broke, blacklisted, and about to be homeless. Yet instead of accepting defeat, you crashed this event to confront the man who betrayed you. That shows either remarkable courage or spectacular stupidity.”

"Why do I feel like you're about to make me an offer?" Zara took a sip of champagne, letting the bubbles settle her nerves. The floral arrangement beside them filled the air with the heady scent of lilies and roses, making the moment feel oddly dreamlike.

His laugh was short and sharp, but there was something almost appreciative in his expression. "Because you're not stupid." He pulled out his phone, his shoulder brushing against hers as he moved closer to show her the screen. The casual contact sent warmth spreading through her body, making her acutely aware of how long it had been since anyone had touched her with any kind of intimacy.

On the phone's display was a photo of him with a woman at what looked like a private party. They seemed intimate—his hand on her waist, her body curved toward his, though her face was turned away from the camera. The lighting was soft, romantic, and damning.

"This photo, along with several others, will be released to the press tomorrow morning. The timing is... inconvenient." His breath stirred her hair as he spoke, and she caught another hint of that intoxicating cologne.

Zara studied the image more carefully, trying to ignore his proximity. "Let me guess—the woman isn't your girlfriend?"

"She's my brother's wife." Adrian's voice could have frozen flame, though his body remained warm against her side. "Or rather, she was, until her tragic death last year. She was found lying dead in her kitchen. These photos were taken three months before her death."

Understanding dawned. "And with the rumors already circulating about your involvement in your brother's recent troubles..."

"The implications would be unfortunate." He pocketed the phone but didn't step back, keeping her trapped between his body and the wall. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of power and controlled danger that made her breath catch. "I need to control the narrative."

"What does this have to do with me?" She was proud that her voice remained steady, despite the way her pulse raced.

Adrian turned to face her fully, his dark eyes intense. One hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face, the gesture surprisingly gentle. "I need a fiancée, Ms. James. Someone with enough journalistic credibility to be believable, but desperate enough to accept my terms." His fingers lingered at her jaw for a moment before dropping away. "You need money and a story that will resurrect your career. I'm offering you both."

Zara's mind raced. A fake engagement to one of New York's most powerful men? It was insane. It was dangerous. And yet, the way he looked at her—like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve, a challenge he wanted to conquer—made her want to say yes before he could change his mind.

"What's the catch?" she asked, hating how breathless she sounded.

His eyes darkened as they dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second. "Complete discretion. You'll move into my penthouse immediately. You'll follow my lead in public without question." He moved closer still, until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "And when this is over, you'll write the story I give you, not the one you uncover."

"And if I refuse?"

His smile was razor-sharp, but his hand was gentle as it settled on her waist, a possessive touch that seemed designed to remind her of her position. "Then I hope you enjoy writing horoscopes for small-town newspapers. That's assuming you can even get those jobs after I'm done.”