Chapter 2 - The Desperate Deal
"I mean she’s gone, Mom," Mason had said in that quiet study, the grief finally hardening into something cold and sharp. "And if my uncle’s board members find out I’m single, they’ll invoke the clause and strip my shares by Friday."
Which was exactly how Mason found himself at Bellini’s three days later, staring at a drenched delivery girl.
He had come to the restaurant to drink bourbon and figure out how to save his father’s legacy. Instead, he found his uncle celebrating a premature victory at the center table, with Vanessa and her new lover, Paul, sitting right beside him as VIP guests. The humiliation had been orchestrated. A public execution of Mason's reputation.
That was when Mason had stood up, raised his glass, and made his reckless vow.
The heavy oak doors had opened. The thunder cracked. And there she stood.
The silence in the restaurant was absolute as Mason set his glass down, walked past his uncle’s laughing table, and stopped directly in front of the shivering girl.
"Order for... Whitaker?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she checked the soggy receipt stapled to the thermal bag. She looked up at him, her large, intelligent brown eyes wide with confusion. "I'm sorry I'm late. The storm—"
"What is your name?" Mason asked, his voice low, steady, and loud enough for the entire room to hear.
"Riley," she whispered, taking a nervous step back. "Riley Vance."
"Riley Vance," Mason repeated. He reached into his tailored suit jacket, pulled out his platinum card, and handed it to her. "I am going to pay for this food. And then, I am going to offer you two million dollars to marry me for exactly one year."
Vanessa gasped from the center table. Paul choked on his wine.
Riley stared at the platinum card, then up at Mason's perfectly serious, lethal expression. She didn't faint. She didn't stammer. Instead, a startling, razor-sharp focus pierced through her exhaustion.
"Two million," Riley repeated, her voice suddenly devoid of any tremble. "After taxes?"
May you like
Mason felt the ghost of a smile touch his lips for the first time since his father died. "Net. Wired into a private account tomorrow morning. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes," Riley said, dropping the thermal bag onto the floor. "Where do I sign?"
