I don’t believe in fairytales.
I believe in contracts. Clean exits. Ironclad terms.
So when my father lays down the ultimatum—get married, have a child, and prove I’m worthy of the Westwood empire—I do what I do best.
I go get what I want.
She’s gorgeous. Curvy. Smart-mouthed.
And absolutely furious that I now own 51% of her struggling business.
Lucky for her, there’s room to negotiate.
She wants to save her company—and have a baby.
I want my inheritance—and zero romantic entanglements.
One year. One baby. No feelings. Just signatures.
Simple enough… until she starts showing up in my head, in my bed, and in my carefully controlled life like she belongs there.
Now I’m pretending to be a devoted husband in public, sleeping a little too close in private, and breaking every rule I set in the fine print.
I built my legacy on logic.
Falling for my fake wife?
That’s a complication I didn’t plan for.
