The second I sat down, I regretted it.
This was how people ended up joining cults. One minute you were minding your business.
Next, some charismatic stranger was convincing you to make terrible life decisions.
Callum sat across from me at the kitchen island. Calm and collected. Entirely too comfortable for a man who had just proposed marriage.
Meanwhile, my pulse was trying to break a world record. Neither of us spoke for a moment.
Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows.
The house felt warm, normal even. Which was ridiculous because absolutely nothing about this situation was normal.
Finally, I pointed at the paperwork.
"Before we continue, I need you to know something."
Callum folded his hands. "I'm listening."
"If this ends with me waking up in a bathtub missing a kidney, I'm going to be very upset."
A corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Good."
"I'm not harvesting your organs."
"That's exactly what an organ harvester would say."
That earned a genuine laugh.
I hated how much I liked that sound.
It made him seem less dangerous.
Which was probably dangerous.
"Harper." His eyes met mine. "No kidneys."
"Wonderful." I nodded. "Please proceed."
Callum slid the contract toward me.
"The arrangement lasts one year."
I immediately grimaced.
There it was again, arrangement. The kind of word rich people used when they were doing something insane.
"A legal marriage." My grimace deepened. "Still hate that part."
"A legal marriage," he repeated patiently, "for twelve months."
"And then?"
"A divorce."
That caught me off guard.
I blinked. "You'd actually agree to a divorce?"
His eyebrow lifted. "Was that in doubt?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
I gestured vaguely. "Because you seem like the type."
"The type?"
"The billionaire romance novel type."
For the first time, Callum looked genuinely confused.
"What exactly does that mean?"
"It means rich men in expensive suits are never normal."
A pause from him, then he says, "That's fair."
I stared at him. His smile appeared briefly, then vanished.
"The marriage would be public."
My stomach tightened. "How public?"
"Our families would know."
"Oh God."
"Friends would know."
"Worse."
"Colleagues would know."
I dropped my head onto the counter. "No."
His voice remained maddeningly calm. "Harper."
"My mother would become so unbearable."
"I imagine so."
"You don't understand."
"I probably don't."
I lifted my head. "My mother has been trying to marry me off for years."
The amusement returned to his eyes. "I gathered that."
I pointed at him. "One family dinner."
"One."
"That's all it would take."
"To do what?"
"Start naming our future children."
For a full second, Callum simply stared at me. Then he laughed again.
I was beginning to suspect he enjoyed my suffering.
"You're exaggerating."
"I'm not."
"Surely—"
"I'm absolutely not."
He looked unconvinced. Clearly he'd never met my mother. Lucky him.
The laughter faded. Callum pushed another page toward me.
"Your debts would be cleared."
Just like that, the humor vanished. Reality returned.
I stared at the page, numbers filled the document.
Terrifying numbers.
My mouth suddenly felt dry. "All of them?"
"Yes."
The answer came too quickly. As if paying off someone's crushing debt was an everyday occurrence.
I swallowed. "Why?"
The question that had been bothering me from the beginning.
Why me? Why this? Why any of it?
Callum's expression remained unreadable. "You would be helping me as well."
"How?"
His gaze flickered toward the window, then back to me.
"I need to be married."
I blinked. "That's the explanation?"
"For now."
My eyes narrowed. "For now?"
"There are details that can wait."
I laughed. "No."
"What?"
"No mysterious rich man answers."
He looked mildly offended. "Mysterious rich man answers?"
"Those." I pointed directly at him. "'There are details that can wait.'"
He didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.
"If the shoe fits."
I stared at him. The audacity of this man.
I narrowed my eyes.
"I have one question.
Callum looked up. "What?"
"Did you just randomly choose me?"
"No."
"Did you decide whoever came for the listing would become your wife?"
A pause, then he says, "No."
"Then explain."
His gaze held mine. The kind of look that felt like he was deciding how much truth to reveal.
"We both need each other's help, and with how passionate you're, I figured we can help each other out. Don't you think so?"
That answer immediately annoyed me.
"Fine." I folded my arms. "Let's talk about what exactly I'm getting out of this."
Callum looked mildly surprised. "Other than debt relief?"
"Yes, other than debt relief."
I gestured toward the giant house surrounding us.
"Because marriage is a pretty big commitment."
"Temporary marriage."
"Still marriage."
A corner of his mouth twitched. "Fair."
He leaned back slightly. "The men threatening you disappear."
I froze. The words were calm.
Matter-of-fact, as though removing loan sharks from someone's life was a routine Tuesday activity.
"You can do that?"
"Yes."
My stomach flipped.
That answer should not have been reassuring. Instead it was terrifying.
"What else?"
"The house."
My brain stopped working. "…What?"
His gaze remained steady. "This house."
I stared. "No."
"Harper."
"The Victorian?"
"Yes."
"The Victorian Victorian?"
His eyebrow lifted. "How many Victorians do you think we're standing in?"
I ignored that. "You'd give me the house?"
"Yes. It would be yours."
I opened my mouth, then closed it, opened it again, nothing came out.
Callum continued. "You keep the property after the divorce."
I was still staring, speechless. Possibly concussed.
"And finally…"
His expression shifted slightly.
"Your mother stops trying to marry you off for one year."
Those words really landed with me, more than the thought of the house itself. I'm just trying to wrap my head around why he'd freely give me a house worth thousands, especially after clearing all my mom's and my debts. It's a lot to process.
So I asked, "What's the catch?"
Callum went still. "There isn't one."
"Okay, now I know you're lying."
His eyebrow rose. "Do you?"
"Nobody pays a stranger's debts for free."
"We both gain something."
I leaned back and studied him. The problem was that nothing made sense. He was handsome, successful, and rich. Judging by the SUV outside, ridiculously rich.
Men like him didn't need contract marriages.
They certainly didn't need women like me.
A thought suddenly occurred to me, a horrifying thought.
My eyes widened. "Oh my God."
"What?"
I pointed dramatically. "You're secretly in love with someone else."
Callum blinked. "What?"
"You are."
"Harper—"
"They won't approve."
His confusion visibly deepened. "Who won't approve?"
"Your family."
I was on a roll now.
"The woman you love isn't acceptable."
"No."
"So you need a fake wife."
"No."
"Then maybe a man."
His stare became completely blank.
I nodded. "That's it."
"It's not."
"You need a temporary wife because your grandparents are forcing you into an arranged marriage."
His jaw tightened. The reaction lasted less than a second, and a strange silence settled between us.
Callum looked away first, toward the window.
Anywhere except me.
A warning bell rang in the back of my mind. That reaction meant something. Before I could push further, his phone buzzed.
The sound shattered the moment.
Callum glanced at the screen. Immediately, something dark crossed his face. For the briefest moment, he looked angry.
My curiosity instantly doubled.
He declined the call. A second later, the phone rang again, and his jaw tightened again.
Interesting.
"Your secret lover?" I asked.
His gaze snapped to mine. "No."
"Your wife?"
"Also no."
"Tax auditor?"
That almost earned a smile. Instead, he stood. The sudden movement startled me.
"I have to take this."
My brows rose. "That serious?"
"Unfortunately."
He started toward the doorway, then paused turning back. His eyes met mine, intent.
"Don't leave."
I stared at him.
The words came out automatically.
"That sounded less like a request and more like a hostage situation."
For the first time since the phone rang, amusement flickered across his face. Then it disappeared.
"I'll be back in five minutes."
With that, he walked out. Leaving me alone in the kitchen. Alone with a million questions.