Chapter 3 I Turned Down a Billionaire's Proposal

Nora's POV

Adrian glanced at my suitcase, then at the bandage wrapped around my left leg.

"Yes. But not tonight."

My heart sank.

"You've changed your mind?"

"You can barely stand."

He stepped aside.

"My driver can take you to your hotel, or you can stay here tonight. Your choice."

I dragged my suitcase over the threshold.

My heel caught as I stepped inside, and I stumbled forward.

Before I could hit the floor, a hand caught me firmly around the waist.

I fell against Adrian's chest and instinctively grabbed his arm.

The muscle beneath my palm tensed. Even through my shirt, I could feel the heat of his hand against my side.

"Got your balance?"

His voice was low above my head.

I nodded quickly.

He let go the moment I was steady, taking only my suitcase.

The warmth of his hand still lingered at my waist.

For some reason, I couldn't quite look at him.

"If I stay," I asked, "will that affect the terms you offer me tomorrow?"

Adrian stopped.

His expression cooled.

"You think I'm letting you stay because it'll make you easier to convince?"

"I just don't want to owe you anything else."

"Then remember this."

He looked straight at me.

"I helped you because you were trapped in that car. Not because I'm desperate for a wife."

My lips parted.

Nothing came out.

He didn't press me.

Instead, he carried my suitcase to the guest room on the first floor and left it beside the door.

"Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow, you're free to say no."

After the door closed behind him, my heart was still beating a little too fast.

I told myself it was because I'd almost fallen.

Nothing else.

At nine the next morning, Adrian was already sitting at the dining table.

Two cups of coffee sat between us.

So did a contract.

"First draft."

He pushed it toward me.

"Have your own lawyer look it over. You don't have to sign anything today."

I opened the document.

A three-year marriage. Separate bank accounts. Housing arrangements. Compensation in the event of divorce.

The amount was enough to pay off my student loans and keep me from worrying about rent for a very long time.

"Does your grandfather know this is a marriage of convenience?"

"No."

"The marriage itself will be legally binding," Adrian said. "The time limit is between us. I won't ask you to promise him forever."

"Then why the rush?"

His hand paused around his coffee cup.

"After my parents died, my grandfather raised me. His health hasn't been good lately. He wants to see me settled down."

He spoke calmly.

But I was beginning to understand that this marriage wasn't just a business deal to him, either.

"Why me?"

"At the gala, you were presenting a project for Mercer Real Estate," Adrian said. "Julian told you to skip the budget risks. You didn't."

I blinked.

"You remember that?"

"He interrupted you twice. You finished anyway."

Julian had chewed me out afterward for not knowing when to keep my mouth shut.

But Adrian remembered the slide I'd insisted on presenting.

"So that made you think I'd be a good wife?"

"Everyone in that ballroom was telling Julian what he wanted to hear."

Adrian's eyes settled on mine.

"You were the only one who told him the project was going to lose money."

"He was my boss."

"That's why I remembered you."

For a second, I forgot to breathe.

"I didn't choose you because you suddenly have nowhere else to go."

He rested his fingers on the contract.

"I'd noticed you before you ever called me."

Somehow, those words made it harder to look away from him than any of the life-changing numbers in the contract.

I forced myself to lower my eyes.

Then I pulled up the email from my university.

"There's one condition I won't compromise on, either. I've passed the university's preliminary selection for the Milan study program. If I get the nomination, I'll be leaving New York for an academic year."

Adrian read the email.

"I'd like you to stay in New York for the first year of our marriage. My grandfather has another medical checkup next month. Can you postpone the program?"

"No. But I can spend more time with him before I leave, and I can come back during the holidays."

"I'll cover the cost of postponing," he said. "If they won't hold your place, I can get in touch with better schools."

He sounded so certain.

As though he were handling a last-minute change in a business meeting.

The warmth I'd felt when he told me he'd noticed me vanished.

"It's not about the money."

"Then what is it?" He frowned. "I'm giving you more options."

"But you haven't even asked why I want to go to Milan in the first place."

Silence settled over the table.

I opened the program's course descriptions and list of partner institutions, then turned my laptop toward him.

"I've been applying for two years. I've revised my portfolio seventeen times."

I pointed to the screen.

"This program lets students work on actual public-building renovations. The faculty there are interested in low-budget community projects. They don't start by asking whether a building can become the next big landmark."

I looked at him.

"Sending me to a more expensive school doesn't mean you're giving me the same opportunity."

Adrian scanned the course schedule.

"I'm trying to solve the problem."

"No. You're trying to solve the problem of someone who doesn't fit your plans."

His jaw tightened.

He set his pen down with a sharp click.

"I don't like it when things go off plan."

"I'm not your plan."

He lifted his eyes to mine.

His gaze was darker now.

"That's becoming increasingly clear."

My palms were sweating.

But I held my ground.

"I understand why you want to be there for your grandfather. But Milan matters to me, too."

"So you've decided to turn me down?"

The amount printed in the contract was still tempting.

If I signed, I could put every problem Julian had left me with behind me.

Immediately.

"Yes."

Adrian was silent for a few seconds.

Then he closed the contract.

"That's twice you've turned me down now."

"Then you should start getting used to it."

He stared at me.

There was no anger in his eyes.

Just an intensity that unsettled me.

"I doubt I will."

I stood.

Pain shot through my leg, and I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself.

"I'll move out as soon as I can."

"Turning down the proposal didn't magically heal your leg."

He glanced at my injury.

"The guest room is yours until you've found somewhere safe to stay."

"I can go to a hotel."

"If that's what you want, I'll have my driver take you."

He made no move to stop me.

"But make sure it's somewhere you can recover properly."

I didn't like him making that judgment for me.

Still, I knew he had a point.

I could barely manage the steps outside his front door.

"Two days. No more."

"All right."

He hadn't used the fact that he'd saved my life to make me stay.

And he hadn't withdrawn his help because I'd rejected him.

But the thought of leaving this place so soon left me with a strange sense of regret.

Two days later, I found a short-term apartment near campus.

Before leaving, I was sitting in Adrian's living room, organizing my portfolio, when he came out of the study.

He stopped beside my laptop.

"An old library?"

"It's for my Milan application."

"A glass exterior would bring in more natural light."

"And drive up the budget and summer energy costs."

I pulled up the floor plan.

"If I keep the brick walls and redesign the light well, I can use the money we save to expand the children's reading area."

Adrian moved behind my chair.

He braced one hand against the backrest and leaned toward the screen.

His tall frame didn't actually touch me.

But I could feel the warmth of him behind me.

His cuff brushed my arm.

My back went rigid.

He noticed.

His movement stopped, and he eased away.

I should have been relieved.

Instead, I felt a strange little pang of disappointment.

"Why did you move the entrance here?" he asked.

"To make room for an accessible ramp."

I turned the laptop toward him.

My shoulder accidentally brushed his chest.

We both went still.

His face was close.

Those gray eyes lingered on mine for a moment before dropping to my lips.

My breath caught.

He clearly noticed.

But he simply straightened, giving me my space again.

"Go on."

His voice was a little lower than before.

I stared at the drawings.

For a moment, I couldn't remember what I'd been saying.

"Everyone uses the same entrance," I said, finally finding my voice. "People in wheelchairs shouldn't have to go around to the back door. Buildings aren't just supposed to look good in photographs."

"Are you always this direct?"

"Only when someone questions my designs."

He smiled.

It was brief.

But the warmth it brought to his usually reserved face caught me off guard.

A thought that had nothing to do with our contract crossed my mind.

I want to see him smile again.

"Do you have any other designs?" he asked.

"Haven't you already decided not to marry me?"

"What does that have to do with whether I want to see your work?"

I looked at him.

Then I sat back down and opened the next drawing.

By the time I finished explaining it, the sky outside had gone dark.

For the first time, we hadn't talked about Julian.

Or compensation.

Or who owed whom.

Then my phone buzzed.

An email from the university.

The university had made its final nomination decision.

I opened the email.

One cold line stared back at me.

This year's university nominee for the Milan program: Paige Whitmore.

Claire's cousin.