BOUND BY THE TYCOON'S CONTRACT

Elena Carter stared at the foreclosure notice in her trembling hands, the bold red FINAL WARNING branding her fate. Her mother's boutique-the only thing she had left of her-was slipping through her fingers. No matter how many late nights she worked, no matter how many sacrifices she made, it was never enough.

A bitter sigh escaped her lips as she slumped onto the worn-out couch in her tiny apartment. Rent was overdue, bills piled up on the counter, and her last client had canceled. The walls of her life were closing in, suffocating her.

Then, as if the universe hadn't done enough, her phone buzzed.

Dad: Your mother and I have set you up on a blind date tonight. Don't argue. Just go.

Elena groaned. Because, of course, on top of everything else, her parents still thought she needed to be fixed with a husband. Ever since Brandon-her ex-fiancé-had left her at the altar, they had been relentless.

She was about to type a firm no when another text came in.

Dad: It's at the Astoria Grand. 8 PM. Just meet him, sweetheart. Please.

The Astoria Grand. Not some casual coffee shop. That meant money. Old money.

Elena hesitated, then exhaled sharply. Fine. It was just dinner. And honestly? A free meal at one of the most expensive restaurants in New York sounded like a win.

---

8 PM – The Astoria Grand

The restaurant exuded wealth-polished marble floors, chandeliers dripping with crystal, and waiters who moved with the kind of quiet elegance that only came with exorbitant salaries. Elena adjusted her black dress, suddenly feeling underdressed despite how much effort she'd put in.

She scanned the tables, looking for her mystery date, when a deep, familiar voice stopped her cold.

"You're late."

Elena's heart stuttered. That voice. Low. Commanding. Laced with impatience.

She turned, and her breath caught in her throat.

Sitting at the table, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, was Damian Blackwood.

Her ex-fiancé's boss.

The ruthless billionaire.

The man who could destroy her with a single signature.

Her stomach twisted as Damian's piercing blue eyes locked onto hers.

"Sit."

Elena's first instinct was to run. But something in his gaze-intense, unreadable-kept her rooted to the spot. Against her better judgment, she pulled out the chair and sat across from him.

"This has to be a mistake," she muttered.

Damian leaned back, his expression unreadable. "It isn't."

Elena's fingers curled into fists beneath the table. "Did my parents set this up, or did you?"

His lips twitched in amusement. "I don't waste time on blind dates. But since we're both here, let's get to the point."

Elena's pulse pounded. "The point?"

Damian placed a sleek document folder on the table and slid it toward her.

"Marry me."

Silence.

The bustling restaurant faded into nothing.

Elena blinked, sure she'd misheard him. "Excuse me?"

"It's a contract marriage. Six months. You'll receive full financial backing to save your mother's boutique. In exchange, you'll play the role of my devoted wife."

Elena stared at the contract, her throat dry. "Why on earth would you need a fake wife?"

Damian's expression didn't waver. "Because my uncle is trying to take my company, and the board is pushing for stability. A wife ensures I maintain control."

She shook her head, trying to process. "So I'd just be... a pawn in your corporate chess game?"

"Yes."

Her heart thundered. The rational part of her screamed to walk away. But then she thought of her mother's store-her dreams, her home.

"And after six months?" she asked quietly.

"We divorce. You walk away with your boutique, debt-free."

Her hands trembled as she reached for the contract. A deal with the devil.

And yet, as she met Damian Blackwood's cold, calculating gaze, she knew one thing.

The devil always kept his promises.

---

Elena's fingers hovered over the edge of the contract, her mind racing. Everything in her screamed that this was insane.

And yet...

The boutique.

Her mother's legacy.

The weight of her financial struggles crushed her every single day.

She swallowed hard, lifting her gaze to Damian's. His face remained impassive, but there was something in his eyes-an unshakable confidence that made it clear he expected her to agree.

"Why me?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

Damian's fingers drummed against the table in measured precision. "You're convenient."

Elena stiffened. "Convenient?"

"You have no ties. No scandals. No connections that could complicate this arrangement. And unlike most women in my circles, you're not after my money or status. That makes you... useful."

Useful. Like a tool.

Elena clenched her jaw, forcing herself to ignore the sting.

"You're a real charmer, Blackwood."

Damian's lips quirked at the edges, but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "This isn't about charm. It's about business."

He was right. There was nothing romantic about this. It was a cold, calculated move on his part.

And yet, as reckless as it was, the offer had its appeal.

Her boutique-saved. Her debt-erased. Six months wasn't forever.

But there was one thing she needed to know.

"And if I say no?" she asked, watching him carefully.

Damian leaned forward slightly, his presence almost suffocating. "Then you leave here tonight, go back to your failing boutique, and hope for a miracle."

Her throat tightened. He didn't sugarcoat things. He laid out the brutal truth like a businessman closing a deal.

Elena's stomach twisted. "And if I say yes?"

"Then you'll live in my penthouse. Appear at social functions by my side. Behave as my wife in public. And when the time comes, we part ways, no strings attached."

It sounded so simple when he said it. Like signing away six months of her life was a minor inconvenience.

She exhaled slowly, tapping her fingers against the contract. "And what if I break the terms?"

Damian's gaze darkened. "Then the deal is off, and you walk away with nothing."

A shiver ran down her spine.

No risk, no reward.

She could say no and keep struggling... or take a gamble that could change everything.

What would Mom tell me to do?

Her mother had fought for that boutique, poured her heart and soul into it. If Elena let it go, she wouldn't just be losing a business-she'd be losing the last piece of her mother.

Her fingers tightened around the pen.

This wasn't about Damian. This wasn't about marriage.

It was survival.

With a deep breath, she picked up the pen and signed.

The moment the ink dried, Damian reached for the contract and slid it back into his briefcase with practiced ease.

"You made the right choice," he said, rising smoothly from his chair.

Elena's legs felt unsteady as she stood. "I'll be the judge of that."

Damian's lips curled in something that might have been a smirk. "Pack your things. You move in tomorrow."

Her stomach flipped. Tomorrow?

"That soon?"

"We don't have time to waste."

Elena opened her mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes silenced her. He wasn't just a man used to getting what he wanted-he was a man who dictated the terms of everything around him.

And now, for the next six months, that included her.

As she watched him walk away, the weight of what she'd just done settled over her.

She had sold herself to a billionaire.

And there was no turning back.