The Stand-In Bride's Secret Billionaire Chapter 2

His eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think you're anything to me?"

His voice was quiet, but heavy with an unnatural, hypnotic authority.

I didn't flinch. Pulling a folder from my bag, I slid it across the mahogany table. "I am your most qualified business partner."

He glanced at the document without touching it.

"Mr. Blackwood," I began, my cadence steady and measured. "You need a marriage right now to satisfy your grandfather's old-world traditions. You need a wife who won't stir up trouble, won't bleed your assets, and won't pry into your private life or your unconventional hours."

I paused to let the words sink in.

"Sienna can't do that. She's tangled up with Devon Lockwood, and she's high-maintenance. But I can."

A flicker of dark curiosity crossed his eyes. "What makes you so confident?"

"Because I've lived under someone else's roof for eight years. No one knows how to be invisible better than I do."

Ten seconds of dead silence stretched between us.

His long, pale fingers tapped twice against the polished wood. "Fascinating."

"My terms are simple, Mr. Blackwood," I continued. "The legal title of Mrs. Blackwood, and a legitimate reason to sever all ties with the Lockwoods. Once the license is signed, you continue being the reclusive playboy in the public eye, and I'll be your dutiful, unobtrusive wife. We stay out of each other's way."

He finally sat up straight, the lazy slouch vanishing completely, replaced by an imposing, predatory stillness.

"Devon Lockwood sent you?"

"He sent me to take Sienna's place. He didn't send me to negotiate terms."

"Isn't he worried I'll destroy you?"

"He doesn't care," I said flatly.

He looked at me for a long moment, then let out a low, appreciative laugh that echoed strangely in the dim room.

"Deal."

He pulled the folder over, flipped straight to the signature page, and noted my name.

"Willa Rhodes."

"Yes."

"Tomorrow morning, nine o'clock. City Hall."

"Understood."

I stood up. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Blackwood."

As I reached the door, his deep voice cut through the quiet.

"Willa."

I stopped with my hand on the handle.

"If we're partners, keep it professional," he said, the warmth entirely absent from his voice, replaced by cold steel. "Starting tomorrow, you cut all ties with the Lockwoods. My wife doesn't live on her knees for anyone—and certainly not for mortals of their caliber."

I looked back. "Understood."

Stepping into the corridor, my phone buzzed. Devon’s name flashed across the screen.

I answered.

"Did you meet him?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He agreed."

Devon let out a dismissive scoff on the other end. "Of course he did. In the pathetic state he's in, living in the shadows of that crumbling estate, he doesn't have the luxury to be picky. Did he give you any trouble?"

"No."

"Good," Devon's voice softened a fraction. "Sign the papers tomorrow, and your task is done."

"Task."

I looked at my faint reflection in the glass window. "Devon. Once I sign those papers, I’ll be Mrs. Blackwood."

He paused, then chuckled with arrogant derision. "Mrs. Blackwood? It's just a piece of paper, Willa. The moment the Blackwood empire's financial scandals implode, that paper is worthless trash. Don't get lost in your own delusion."

I didn't argue.

"We're going to City Hall at nine tomorrow," Devon added. "I'll have a driver pick you up."

"No need. I'll get there myself."

Two seconds of silence. "Willa, you've been off all day."

"Have I?"

"Yes."

"Maybe it's because... I'm getting married."

I hung up before he could respond.

Walking out into the crisp evening air, my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number:

"My driver will pick you up at 8:30 AM. Black Maybach with tinted glass."

No name was signed, but I didn't need one.

I typed a single word: "Okay."

At eight the next morning, I walked out of the Lockwood estate carrying a single duffel bag.

A black Maybach sat waiting at the curb, its windows heavily tinted against the morning sun. The chauffeur stepped out and held the door.

"Mrs. Blackwood, please."

I slid into the plush leather interior. Killian was already there, wearing a charcoal bespoke suit that fit his broad, cold shoulders impeccably. There was no trace of the disheveled rake, only the timeless, immaculate elegance of a creature of the night.

"Is that everything?" He glanced at my duffel with piercing dark eyes.

"Yes."

"The Lockwoods didn't stop you?"

"They couldn't wait to see me leave."

He asked nothing more.

The process at City Hall was swift. Signatures, paperwork, official seal. Within thirty minutes, two copies of the marriage certificate were placed in our hands.

I looked at our names sitting side by side on the embossed paper. An unreal sensation washed over me.

I was married.

To the man I had secretly harbored in my heart—an immortal phantom who ruled the city's hidden underworld, though he had no idea of my deeper observations.

"Done staring?" He slid the documents away and handed them to his assistant.

"Done."

"Where to now?" he asked, studying me with an unreadable gaze.

"Back to the Lockwoods," I said quietly. "A few loose ends left to pack."

"Want me to come with you?"

"No," I shook my head. "I can handle it."

He checked his watch, noting the advancing daylight. "One hour. The driver will pick you up and bring you home to the Blackwood estate before noon."

"Okay."

I took a cab back to the Lockwood manor.

The second I pushed open the front doors, deafening music slammed into my ears.