Chapter 2
The interior of the Rolls-Royce was a work of art—cloud-soft leather seats, the air perfumed with hints of cedar. I huddled in the corner, my soaked clothes leaving water stains on the expensive upholstery.
Howard Buckner was reviewing documents, occasionally making notes with a gold pen. His focused demeanor was suffocating, as if the gentle man who had invited me into his car moments ago didn't exist at all.
This was the difference.
Fletcher was always distracted during meetings—either sneaking glances at his phone or interrupting others mid-sentence. But this man before me radiated a lethal magnetism just from the way he concentrated on his paperwork.
Ten minutes later, he closed the folder and turned to me. Those deep eyes sparkled in the dim car light like obsidian, mesmerizing.
God, he really was handsome.
Not Fletcher's deliberately groomed pretty-boy looks, but the kind of mature masculine charm—sharp jawline, perfect nose bridge, and those eyes that seemed to see through everything.
"Let's cut to the chase, Miss Martinez. I've done my research on you." His voice was low and magnetic. "USC School of Cinematic Arts, top of your class. Three years of bleeding for Fletcher's projects while earning an assistant's salary."
My eyes widened. "How did you—"
"I'm Howard Buckner." He smiled slightly, and that smile had more devastating power than all of Fletcher's expressions combined. "It's my job to know the real situation in my company. Especially where the true talent lies."
He handed me a tablet. The screen displayed comparison images: my original drafts versus Fletcher's submitted versions.
"'California Voices' was your concept. You rewrote the 'Sunset Boulevard' script three times. Even his Emmy nomination speech..." Howard paused, his gaze burning into me, "bears your handwriting."
Three years of grievance and anger surged up my throat, burning hot, making it almost impossible to breathe.
Someone had seen. Someone knew the truth.
"Why are you telling me this?" My voice trembled slightly.
"Because I hate wasting talent." His tone was low and firm. "And I despise frauds like Fletcher Kane exploiting my company's reputation."
He leaned forward, his powerful presence threatening to engulf me. In that moment, I finally understood what true alpha dominance felt like. Fletcher was like a schoolboy compared to him.
"I want to give you a chance for revenge, Miss Martinez."
"Revenge?"
"Six months. I'll transform you completely. The best nutritionist, the strictest trainer, professional styling team. You'll become the woman Fletcher Kane could never reach in his lifetime."
My heart pounded like thunder. "Why would you help me?"
Howard watched me quietly, something unfathomable flickering in his eyes. "Because I need you to do something for me."
An uneasy premonition washed over me. "What?"
"Be my fiancée."
His gaze swept over my entire body like an X-ray, utterly unashamed. That feeling of being completely seen through made every muscle tense, my blood flowing backward.
This man was too dangerous.
When Fletcher looked at me, I felt the anger of being ignored. But when Howard looked at me like this, it was as if he was appraising a piece of art—professional, thorough, with a possessive desire that made my cheeks burn and heart race.
I should feel offended, objectified.
But strangely, I found myself... anticipating what conclusion he would reach.
"You happen to possess everything I need—talent, no family entanglements, and a freshly ignited hatred for Fletcher Kane."
"Why me? A man like you could find any kind of fake fiancée you wanted."
Howard gently lifted my chin, raising my face to meet his. His eyes were bottomless, as if trying to see through to my soul.
In that instant, my mind went completely blank.
Fletcher had never looked at me this way. When he looked at me, his gaze was always wandering, perfunctory, as if I were just background scenery.
But the way Howard looked at me made me feel like the center of the universe.
"Because you're different from those trophy socialites." He released his hand and handed me a contract. "The way you look at Fletcher tells me you have the determination to play this role convincingly."
I stared at the document. This was insane. Too surreal.
But...
"After six months, I gain my freedom. You get back everything that was stolen from you. You'll become Universal Media's youngest producer. Fletcher Kane will live forever in your shadow."
Producer.
The position I'd dreamed of.
"You can refuse." Howard's tone suddenly became gentle. "I'll give you a generous severance—enough to leave California and start over. But think about Fletcher and Susan... they're probably laughing at you right now."
The image of Fletcher and Susan mocking me flashed again. That anger reignited, colder than rain, sharper than shame.
Why should they?
Why should Fletcher get to steal my work? Why should Susan get to steal my man? Why should I have to run away?
"I accept." I picked up the pen and signed. "But I have one condition."
Howard raised an eyebrow. "Name it."
"After six months, I want to announce in front of the entire company—that I dumped Fletcher Kane."
Howard chuckled low, his eyes sparkling with approval. "Deal, Miss Martinez. Or should I say... Lainey."
The car stopped in front of my apartment building. Howard personally opened the door for me. Moonlight fell across his face, that perfect profile like a sculpture come to life.
My God, I was really going to pretend to be this man's girlfriend for six months?
"A car will pick you up at seven tomorrow morning. Ready to embrace your new life, my dear fiancée?"
I took a deep breath and nodded. The rain had stopped, and a few stars twinkled in the night sky.
"Good." He took my hand. His palm was warm and strong, warmth seeping through my damp sleeve to my skin. "Remember, from this moment on, you're no longer Lainey Martinez—that foolish woman blinded by love."
His eyes burned with light in the darkness.
"You are the woman chosen by Howard Buckner."
The car started, its taillights disappearing into the night.
I stood there, my heart pounding wildly.