I hope you got payment up front, old sport. Lucas smiled, but his eyes were hard. I don't worry about payment, Chip. I worry about performance. Unlike some people, I prefer things that actually work.
Chip's smile faltered. Victoria suppressed a smirk. Ladies and gentlemen, the announcer's voice boomed. Please welcome the future of automotive excellence, the Sterling 5X. The curtains parted. The car, the same car Lucas had just hacked, sat on a rotating platform.
It looked magnificent. Victoria squeezed Lucas's arm. Showtime. She went up to the stage, took the microphone, and began her speech. She was charismatic, powerful.
Lucas watched her from the wings. She was selling a dream. But then he saw it. Chip was standing near the control booth talking to a technician. He handed the tech a thick envelope.
The tech nodded and typed something into the lighting console, which was networked to the stage management system. Lucas's engineer brain kicked in. The stage turntable. It was hydraulic. If Chip sped it up while Victoria was standing next to the open door of the car, the technician hit a key.
On stage, the platform jerked. The rotation speed doubled, then tripled. The car, not secured properly, shifted. The open suicide door swung out wildly, aiming straight for Victoria's head. Victoria!
Lucas screamed. He didn't think. He sprinted. He burst out from the wings, tackling Victoria just as the heavy steel door sliced through the air where her head had been a millisecond before. They crashed to the floor, rolling.
The car door slammed into the podium, shattering it into splinters. The crowd screamed. Silence followed. Lucas lay on top of Victoria, breathing hard. She was staring up at him, eyes wide with shock.
You okay? He gasped. She nodded, unable to speak. Lucas stood up, pulling her with him. He looked at the control booth.
Chip was gone. He looked at the crowd, then at the camera crews live streaming to millions. He realized he was still holding Victoria's hand. Tightly. Victoria grabbed the microphone from the floor.
She was shaking, but her voice was steel. As you can see, she said, breathless, the Sterling 5X has so much torque it can't be contained. And my fiance here, she raised Lucas's hand in the air, he's the only one strong enough to handle it. The crowd went wild. Lucas stared at her.
Fiance? She leaned in close, her lips brushing his ear. Play along, she hissed, or Chip wins. Lucas looked at the flashing cameras. He looked at the beautiful, terrifying woman who had just announced their engagement to the world.
He was a mechanic who just wanted to pay for insulin. Now, he was the fiance of America's most powerful CEO. Deal. He whispered back. The ride back to the penthouse was deafeningly silent.
The adrenaline from the stage had faded, replaced by a cold, sharp reality. Victoria stared out the window. Her jaw set so tight it looked painful. Lucas sat next to her, loosening the bow tie that felt increasingly like a noose. When the elevator doors opened into the penthouse, Victoria kicked off her heels and threw her clutch onto a $10,000 sofa.
Arthur! She screamed. NDAs now! Arthur, who had been cowering in the kitchen, scurried out with a stack of papers. Already drafted, Ms. Sterling.
The asset protection and image preservation protocols. Lucas laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound. Is that what I am? An asset?
Victoria spun around, her eyes blazing. You are a liability that I just turned into an asset. Do you have any idea what would have happened if I had walked off that stage alone? Chip would have spun the accident as incompetence. Victoria Sterling almost decapitated by her own car.
The stock would have plummeted by morning. I would have been removed by the board by noon. So you lied, Lucas said, stepping toward her. You told the world we're getting married. I told the world I have a partner, she corrected.
A rock. Someone who makes me look stable, grounded, and human. The market loves a love story, Lucas. It distracts them from the numbers. I have a daughter, Lucas said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl.
I have a life. A terrible, messy life that I was trying to fix. And you just dragged a spotlight onto it. I can fix your life, Victoria countered. She grabbed the contract from Arthur and slammed it onto the coffee table.
Look at this. Read it. Lucas looked down. It was a contract. Sterling Bennett cohabitation agreement.
One year, Victoria said, holding up a finger. We play the happy couple for 1 year. You move in here. We do the galas, the interviews, the photo shoots. In public, you adore me.
In private, you stay out of my way. And in return, In return, Victoria said, her voice softening just a fraction. I pay off your debts, all of them. The medical bills, the credit cards, the loans. I set up a trust fund for Sophie that guarantees her college tuition, medical care, and housing for the rest of her life.
And I give you the position of lead systems engineer at Sterling Motors. Double your old salary. Lucas stared at the paper. It was everything he had prayed for in the dark, sleepless nights at the garage. It was salvation.
But it was also a trap. Why me? He asked. You could hire a model, an actor. Because you saved my life, she said.
And for a moment, the mask slipped. She looked tired. And because you're the only person who looked at my engine and saw the truth, not the hype. I need someone real, Lucas. Even if the marriage is fake.
Lucas thought of Sophie. He thought of the insulin in the fridge that he had to ration. He thought of the holes in her sneakers. He picked up the pen. I have conditions, he said.
Victoria crossed her arms. Name them. One, Sophie comes with me, obviously. Two, she is off-limits to the press. No photos, no interviews.
If a camera gets within 10 ft of her, the deal is off. Agreed, Victoria said instantly. Three, Lucas said, looking her dead in the eye. I don't just want the job title. I want authority.