SEBASTIÁN'S POV
The moment the news anchor opened her plastic mouth, I felt it.
That familiar burn of shame licking its way up my neck, like gasoline waiting for a spark.
"…Sebastián Montgomery, CEO of Montgomery Industries, suffers yet another blow after losing his second major defense contract in just three months…"
"Fuck this," I growled, slamming the remote down on the glass table hard enough to make the whiskey glasses rattle.
The screen went black, but the damage was done, the words were already echoing in the room. Lost his mojo, unstable, irresponsible.
That's a goddamn public execution.
"Relax, man," said Jordan, my best friend and business partner, reclining on the edge of my sectional couch with a half-empty tumbler in his hand. "It's media bullshit, they smell blood, and they feed on it."
"That 'bullshit' just wiped five percent off our share price in an hour," I snapped, pacing across the penthouse like a caged animal. The city lights sparkled behind me through the glass wall, but all I could see was my reputation bleeding out on every household, every street, and every fucking newsfeed.
Jordan shrugged. "Then maybe it's time to do something before you lose more than stock."
I stopped pacing and looked at him. "Like what? I have got a girlfriend, which should fucking count for something."
He raised an eyebrow. "Does anyone know you have a girlfriend? Because from where I'm sitting, she's a goddamn ghost. No public appearances, no galas, no red carpets. She didn't even show up at your mother's charity event, which was named after you."
I rubbed my hand over my jaw. "She doesn't like the media."
"That's not the whole story, and you know it."
I didn't respond because he was right. She didn't just hate the spotlight, she couldn't be in it, not when the light might expose the shadows she lived in.
Lucifer.
The most feared name in the West Syndicate. The faceless devil who could bring the entire cartels to their knees. What they didn't know is that Lucifer was a woman and she was mine.
"Sabrina 's... different," I said, choosing my words carefully. "She doesn't show up at events because she has to keep a low profile, she's not like everyone else."
"No shit, you date the most powerful phantom in the criminal underworld," Jordan muttered, pouring another drink. "I get it, she's a badass and I actually like her. She makes most CEOs look like toddlers with toys but let me be real with you, Bastian, your brand is crumbling… Investors want reliability, predictability, and stability."
"Marriage," I said bitterly, that's the summary of what they want.
Jordan nodded. "Exactly."
"She doesn't do commitment," I muttered. "We have been over it; I have tried. She loves me, I know she does but she has built her entire life being untouchable. Getting her to admit she even likes labels was a six-month process."
Jordan leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes steady. "So don't ask her to jump in, ask her to test the waters."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"A contract marriage. Two years, nothing binding you folks forever. Just enough to shut the critics up and make you look like a settled, grounded man. You get your contracts, she gets her autonomy, and maybe, just maybe she realizes that marriage doesn't have to be a cage."
I looked down at the floor, turning the idea over in my head like a poker chip. It wasn't the worst plan, hell, it was better than pretending we didn't exist to the world.
And I think she would understand the logic, she respected strategy more than sentiment.
"Two years," I murmured. "That's not so bad."
Jordan stood and grabbed his coat. "You have got nothing to lose except everything if you don't do something soon."
Just as he reached the elevator, the penthouse door opened and in walked fire.
Sabrina.
Tight black jeans, long-sleeved top that hugged her body like it was scared to let go, boots that clicked like gunshots across the marble. Her braid was still tight from whatever hell she had dragged herself out of.
She paused when she saw Jordan. "Evening, Jord."
He nodded. "Lucifer."
Her smirk made the air colder. "Still hate that I can shoot better than you?" She teased him.
"You know it." He muttered, grinning before slipping out.
The door hissed shut behind him, and she turned to me.
Her arms wrapped around me before I could say a word, and I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding… God, I needed that, I needed her.
She held me like I wasn't falling apart, like I hadn't just watched my name get dragged across the stock exchange floor.
"You, okay?" She asked against my chest.
"No," I said honestly. "But I'm better now."
We sat down on the couch, her head resting on my shoulder as I traced idle circles on her thigh. For a moment, we didn't need words, but the moment eventually passed.
"Sabrina," I said quietly.
She sat up, eyes sharp. "What?"
"I know you don't like pressure or commitment. I know what your world is, what you are and I'm not asking you to give that up."
Her gaze softened just slightly.
"But I need help," I said. "I'm sinking, my name is losing weight. The company's bleeding, and investors are pulling out because I don't fit their pretty idea of what a stable CEO looks like."
She didn't speak, but I could feel her body stiffen.
"So, here's my offer," I continued. "Marry me."
Her mouth parted slightly, and I raised my hand to stop her from talking.
"Not forever, not permanently. A contract marriage, two years. Just long enough to show the world we are a unit, you don't have to be in the spotlight, you don't have to live here, you can keep your bakery. Keep… everything."
She was silent, calculating. The way she always did when bullets weren't flying but stakes were just as high.
"Sabrina …" I added softly. "You love me, I know you do, and I love you, but I won't beg. I just need you to meet me halfway."
She looked at me and for the first time in forever, she looked… shaken. Not weak, never that but unsettled in a way I didn't expect.
The silence stretched and it drove me crazy.
I rubbed my thigh nervously as I held my breath and waited.