Chapter 3: The Offer

Maddie doesn’t ease into it.

“You’re going to pretend to date him.”

I stare at her. I blink once. Then again.

“Say that again,” I say.

She doesn’t smile. That’s how I know she’s serious.

“You’re going to pretend to date Alex Kane.”

I laugh. It comes out wrong. Too loud. Too sharp.

“No,” I say. “Absolutely not.”

Maddie crosses her arms. “Hear me out.”

“I don’t need to hear anything,” I snapped. “I just got dumped. Publicly humiliated. Emotionally wrecked. I’m not signing up to play a girlfriend for a famous man.”

“It’s not playing,” she says. “It’s strategic.”

“That makes it worse.”

She sighs and sits across from me. “Alex needs a girlfriend.”

“I don’t care.”

“He needs one now.”

“I still don’t care.”

“He needs one to fix his image.”

That gets my attention. Just a little.

“What image?”

She hesitates. That alone tightens my chest.

“Maddie.”

She exhales. “There was an interview. Something he said got twisted. Sponsors are nervous. The team is nervous. They want stability.”

“And they think a woman will fix that?”

“They think the right woman will.”

I shake my head. “That’s insulting.”

“It is,” she agrees. “But that’s not why I thought of you.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then why?”

“Because you don’t fall apart for show,” she says quietly. “And because you won’t lose yourself in him.”

I look away.

“That’s funny,” I mutter. “Because I lost myself for ten years.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

“Yes,” she says firmly. “Ryan fed on your loyalty. Alex doesn’t need that. He needs a shield.”

I scoff. “I’m not a shield.”

“You could be,” she says. “For a while.”

“For how long?” I ask.

“A few months.”

My stomach twists. “No.”

She leans forward. “Izzy, listen. This is clean. Contracts. Boundaries. Public appearances only. No emotional involvement.”

I laugh again. “You’re bad at lying.”

“I’m not lying,” she says. “I’m being hopeful.”

“I don’t want hope,” I say. “I want peace.”

She studies me. “Then why are you still shaking?”

I look down. My hands are clenched into fists.

“I don’t want him to win,” I whisper.

Maddie’s voice softens. “You won’t.”

“Ryan thinks I’ll disappear,” I continued. “He thinks I’ll stay quiet. He thinks he can rewrite ten years like I never mattered.”

“You mattered,” she says.

“Then why does it feel like I lost everything?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

“Because you gave everything,” she finally says. “And now you get to take some of it back.”

I swallow.

“You’re asking me to step into a spotlight,” I say. “I just survived being burned.”

“You’re stronger now.”

“I don’t feel strong.”

“Strength doesn’t feel like strength,” she replies. “It feels like fear you refuse to obey.”

There’s a knock.

We both freeze.

Maddie frowns. “I wasn’t expecting”

The door opens.

Alex steps inside.

My breath catches before I can stop it.

He looks different now. Less distant. Less casual. There’s purpose in his posture. Intent in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Maddie stands quickly. “No, it’s fine. We were just”

“Talking about me,” he finishes calmly.

I glare at her. Traitor.

“I can leave,” he adds, looking at me. “If you want.”

I hesitate.

“No,” I say. “Stay.”

Maddie looks between us. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

She leaves. Of course she does.

The silence stretches.

“You don’t waste time,” I say.

“I try not to,” he replies.

“So,” I continue, “you need a girlfriend.”

He nods once. “I need a partner. Publicly.”

“And privately?”

“I need discretion.”

I laugh bitterly. “That’s rich.”

“Why?”

“Because the last man who promised me discretion left me in public.”

He studies my face. “I’m not him.”

“No,” I say. “You’re worse.”

His brow lifts. “Worse?”

“You’re charming. Controlled. You know how to make people feel seen.”

“That’s not a crime.”

“It should be,” I snapped. “It makes people forget their limits.”

“Do you forget yours?”

I open my mouth. Close it.

“No,” I say finally.

“Good,” he replies. “Then you’re exactly who I need.”

I stand abruptly. “I’m not a solution to your problem.”

“I know,” he says. “You’re a complication.”

My pulse jumps.

“I don’t do complications,” I say.

“You handled me just fine last night.”

“I didn’t handle you,” I say. “I survived you.”

His lips curve. “Impressive.”

I pace once. Stop. Turn back to him.

“Why me?” I demand. “Be honest.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“Because you don’t want me,” he says finally.

“That’s not true,” I snapped.

His gaze deepens. “You don’t want what I represent. Fame. Access. Noise. You want distance. Control.”

I don’t deny it.

“And,” he continues, “because if you agree, your ex will choke on it.”

That hits.

“You looked him up,” I say.

“I noticed your reaction,” he corrects. “And I did my homework.”

I cross my arms. “Is this revenge on you?”

“No,” he says. “This is protection. For me. And maybe… justice for you.”

Justice.

The word tastes dangerous.

“I won’t sleep with you,” I say flatly.

He doesn’t flinch. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“I won’t pretend I’m in love.”

“Good,” he says. “I don’t want a lie that deep.”

“I won’t let you rewrite who I am.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

I search his face for mockery. I can't find it.

“And when will it end?” I ask.

“It ends clean,” he says. “I step away. You walk free.”

I laugh softly. “Men always say that.”

“And women always suffer?” he counters.

“Yes,” I say. “Because we believe.”

His voice lowers. “Then don’t believe it. Negotiate.”

I hesitate.

“What’s in it for me?” I ask.

He meets my eyes. “Power.”

The word settles heavy in my chest.

“And if I say no?”

“I respect it,” he says. “And I walk away.”

Something inside me rebels at that.

I think of Ryan’s messages. His threats. His smile in that picture.

I think of how small he made me feel.

“How public is this?” I ask.

“Very.”

“How convincing?”

“As convincing as you allow.”

I swallow.

“And if I fall?” I whisper.

He steps closer. Not touching. Not forcing.

“Then I’ll catch you,” he says. “Or I’ll let you go. Your choice.”

The honesty shakes me.

Maddie peeks back in. “Everything okay?”

I don’t look at her.

I look at him.

My heart pounds. Fast. Loud.

“Fine,” I mutter. “But I’m not losing myself again.”

His smile is slow. Satisfied. Dangerous.

“Then don’t,” he says. “Just don’t lose your nerve.”

As the words leave my mouth, I realize I’ve just agreed to the one thing that could destroy me or save me.