Chapter 1 - The Stranger I Hired to Become My HusbandThe first thing Gabrielle Hayes said to the stranger who nearly hit her with his car was not “Watch where you’re going.”
It was:
“Are you married?”
The man behind the wheel stared at her through the windshield of a black sedan, one hand frozen on the steering wheel.
Gabrielle stood in the middle of a rainy Manhattan side street with one broken heel, a torn silk dress, and exactly forty-three minutes left before her father expected her to announce her engagement to a man she had never met.
She slapped both palms against the hood.
“I asked you a question!”
The driver’s door opened.
A tall man stepped into the rain.
He looked about thirty.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
Expensive coat, but no tie.
There was something strangely calm about him, as if nearly running over women in evening gowns was not the most inconvenient thing that had happened to him that day.
“You walked into traffic,” he said.
“You almost killed me.”
“You ran between two parked cars.”
“Details.”
His mouth twitched.
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes.
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Criminal record?”
That finally made him smile.
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Perfect.”
“Perfect for what?”
Gabrielle looked over her shoulder.
Across the intersection, a black SUV had just turned the corner.
Her father’s driver.
They had found her.
She grabbed the stranger’s coat.
“How quickly can you get married?”
His smile disappeared.
“I’m sorry?”
“I will pay you three million dollars to marry me.”
Rain ran down his forehead.
For the first time since he had stepped from the car, the stranger looked genuinely stunned.
Behind them, the SUV stopped.
Gabrielle tightened her grip.
“Please.”
Something changed in his face when she said that.
Not amusement.
Not greed.
Recognition, almost.
He looked toward the SUV, then back at her.
“What’s your name?”
“Gabrielle Hayes. Gabby.”
“And why does Gabrielle Hayes need a husband badly enough to offer a stranger three million dollars?”
“Because if I don’t find one tonight, my father is going to marry me off to a billionaire I’ve never met.”
The stranger stared at her.
Then he laughed.
Not a polite laugh.
A full, helpless laugh that made Gabby want to hit him.
“This isn’t funny.”
“I know.”
“Then stop laughing.”
“I’m trying.”
The SUV door opened.
Gabby’s father’s security chief stepped out.
“Ms. Hayes!”
Gabby’s heart dropped.
The stranger glanced at the approaching man.
Then he opened the passenger door of his sedan.
“Get in.”
Gabby froze.
“Does that mean yes?”
“It means get in before you offer marriage to a cabdriver.”
She climbed inside.
Thirty seconds later, the car disappeared into Manhattan traffic.
His name was Ethan Carter.
At least, that was what he told her.
Nothing about him suggested desperation.
That bothered Gabby.
She had expected the kind of man who might accept three million dollars from a stranger to have unpaid gambling debts, a collapsing business, maybe an angry ex-wife.
Ethan had none of those things.
He lived in a beautiful but understated loft in Tribeca.
He wore a watch that looked expensive without screaming that it was expensive.
He spoke to restaurant workers by name.
And when Gabby asked why he would consider her ridiculous proposal, he answered with a question.
“Why don’t you want to marry the man your father chose?”
They were sitting across from each other in an all-night diner after midnight.
Gabby wrapped both hands around a mug of coffee.
“Because I don’t know him.”
“Your father does.”
“My father knows his family.”
“Different thing.”
“Exactly.”
Ethan leaned back.
“Tell me about him.”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t know anything?”
“Almost nothing. His family owns hotels, real estate, investment companies. My father and his father were close friends before his father died.”
“And his name?”
Gabby sighed.
“Ethan Caldwell.”
The man across from her did not move.
Gabby was too busy stirring her coffee to notice.
“He’s been in London for the last few years,” she continued. “My father says he’s brilliant, disciplined, responsible and apparently capable of solving world hunger before breakfast.”
“Sounds unbearable.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve never met him?”
“Not once.”
“And you’re willing to marry me instead?”
“You’re real.”
“So is he, presumably.”
“You’re sitting in front of me.”
Ethan studied her.
“And if I’m terrible?”
“I’ll survive.”
“If I refuse?”
“My father wins.”
“And if I accept?”
“My father loses.”
Ethan smiled faintly.
“You really hate losing.”
“You have no idea.”
Gabrielle slid a folded document across the table.
He opened it.
Three million dollars.
A legal marriage contract.
One year.
No romantic obligations.
Separate finances.
Complete confidentiality.
After twelve months, they would divorce.
Ethan read every page.
“You had this prepared?”
“I have lawyers.”
“Of course you do.”
“Are you going to accept?”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he closed the folder.
“Yes.”
Gabrielle blinked.
“That easy?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Ethan's eyes darkened.
“Because I have a reason of my own.”
“What reason?”
He leaned forward.
“One year.”
She nodded.
“One year.”
“No lies.”
“Agreed.”
“No interference in each other's private lives.”
“Agreed.”
“And if either of us wants out early?”
“Then we walk away.”
He extended his hand.
Gabrielle shook it.
Neither of them noticed the man standing outside the diner.
A man who had followed Gabrielle from the moment she left her father's estate.
A man who immediately pulled out his phone.
“She found him,” he whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“She found Ethan.”
A pause.
Then the voice on the other end became cold.
“Which Ethan?”
The man swallowed.
“Ethan Carter.”
Silence.
Then:
“That isn't possible.”
“It is.”
“Find out where they are.”
The call ended.
Inside, Gabrielle signed the first page.
Ethan watched her.
“You understand something, don't you?”
“What?”
“Your father isn't going to be angry because you refused his arrangement.”
Gabrielle looked up.
“What do you mean?”
“He's going to be afraid.”
She laughed.
“My father doesn't get afraid.”
Ethan's expression remained unreadable.
“He should.”
Gabrielle didn't understand.
Not yet.
The next morning, they were married at a small private courthouse ceremony.
No family.
No friends.
No flowers.
No celebration.
Just two strangers signing documents.
Gabrielle wore the same torn dress from the night before.
Ethan wore a black suit.
The judge smiled.
“Do you both understand the nature of this marriage?”
“Yes,” Gabrielle answered.
Ethan said nothing.
The judge looked at him.
“Mr. Carter?”
Ethan finally nodded.
“I understand.”
They exchanged rings.
Then the judge pronounced them husband and wife.
Gabrielle looked at Ethan.
“Well.”
“Well.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
“You're officially my husband.”
“And you're officially my wife.”
She smiled.
“Don't get used to it.”
His eyes held hers.
“I already have.”
Something fluttered inside her chest.
She ignored it.
They left the courthouse.
Three black SUVs were waiting.
Gabrielle stopped.
“My father.”
Ethan looked at the vehicles.
“No.”
She turned.
“What?”
“Those aren't your father's cars.”
The rear SUV door opened.
Two men stepped out.
Gabrielle grabbed Ethan's arm.
“Who are they?”
Ethan's face changed.
The easygoing stranger from the diner disappeared.
Something colder took his place.
“Stay behind me.”
One of the men reached inside his coat.
Ethan moved before Gabrielle could scream.
He grabbed the man's wrist.
A sharp crack.
The weapon hit the pavement.
Gabrielle stared.
Ethan drove his elbow into another man's chest and sent him crashing against the SUV.
Within seconds, both men were on the ground.
Gabrielle couldn't speak.
Ethan turned toward her.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Who are you?”
He looked at her.
May you like
For the first time, she saw something dangerous in his eyes.
“That's the question you should have asked before marrying me.”
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