Page 39 of Secret Baby for my Off-Limits Fiancé

I stand. “The hell you don’t.”

She swallows. “The father is not in the picture. That’s all you need to know.”

I stare at her, searching her face for the lie I know is there.

But she won’t break.

Fine. If she wants to play this game, so be it.

I slide the contract across the table. “There are new stipulations. Including a marriage clause. Six months of dating, followed by a one-year marriage, then divorce. You get paid three hundred thousand dollars total.”

Her hands tremble as she picks up the pen.

She hesitates.

“We need to make sure Vincent isn’t affected by this,” she says finally. “I never wanted him involved.”

I nod. “You can tell him we’re just friends.”

She lets out a breath, then signs.

“I, Layla, sign my life away to the scheming, plotting capitalist that is Valentino Marchetti.”

I smirk. “You forgot ‘infamous wine merchant.’”

She rolls her eyes.

But as our gazes lock, something unspoken crackles between us.

I should leave.

Instead, I linger just a little too long.

10

VALENTINO

Iadjustmytie,staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Everything about my appearance is flawless, the jet-black suit tailored to perfection, the crisp white shirt that molds against my torso, the steel-gray tie knotted with expert precision. My Rolex glints under the soft glow of the bathroom lights, ticking in perfect rhythm, steady and controlled.

Just like me.

And yet, something feels off.

Not with my reflection.

With me.

There’s a strange, gnawing sensation at the base of my spine, something restless clawing at my chest.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never given a damn about a date before.

But this isn’t a date.

It’s a performance. A business arrangement. A means to an end.

Then why the hell do I feel this itching sense of anticipation, this irrational need to impress her?

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