Ten Million Dollar Wife

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Seven years of harboring a secret, suffocating crush on Rowan.

Then, I finally became his wife.

Yet on our wedding night, he slid a thick stack of divorce papers across the cold marble counter.

One year, he stated flatly, his tone strictly business. Then we walk away clean.

His dark gaze dropped to the sheer, delicate lace of my bridal lingerie. A mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Got something else on your mind, Eden?"

Fast forward exactly one year.

"When are we contacting the private lawyers to officially sign the final divorce papers?" I asked, crossing my arms.

He acted like he hadn't heard a single syllable. His jaw ticked, a dangerous, territorial shadow darkening his eyes as he stepped directly into my personal space. "Who the hell was that guy?"

A soft, breathless laugh escaped my lips. I tilted my chin up, throwing his old words right back at him. "Got something on your mind, Rowan?"

Chapter 1

I was still losing my mind over my meager salary and facing imminent homelessness when Rowan found me.

He asked if I wanted to marry him. A marriage of convenience.

One year, ten million dollars in cash, plus a penthouse in Beverly Hills. A girl couldn't exactly feed herself on pride alone. I agreed so fast I was terrified he might take it back if I hesitated for even a second.

From signing that flawlessly ruthless prenup in front of his private lawyers to moving into his priceless Beverly Hills mansion, the whole thing took less than a month.

That night, I actually made an effort. But the second I slipped into a sheer lace nightgown, Rowan slid a thick stack of divorce papers across the table.

"One year," he stated flatly. "Then we walk away clean."

He was so much more mature than he had been in high school. He carried an air of expensive, untouchable arrogance.

I blinked, my fingers hovering over the pages. "Do I sign this right now?"

Rowan checked his Rolex, acting like he had a flight to catch. "Just hand it back to me before the contract expires."

I nodded slowly. "So where are you sleeping tonight?"

Dead silence filled the room. I wanted to smack myself in the face.

Rowan froze.

After a heavy pause, a slow smirk tipped the corner of his mouth. His dark, unreadable gaze slid down my body. "Eden," he asked, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. "Got something else on your mind?"

Following his eyes, I yanked the silk robe tight across my chest, heat flooding my cheeks. "In your dreams!"

Rowan just arched a brow and leaned lazily against the doorframe, clearly enjoying this. "It's a big night. Wanna share a bed?"

We were adults, and considering what I was wearing any guy would have gotten the wrong idea. Heat rushed to my face as I slammed the door shut.

He was still the same arrogant bastard from high school!

I didn't see Rowan again after that. Word was he flew out of the country on a massive business trip. Living in a mega-mansion with a husband who never came home? Honestly, I was living the dream.

Late one night, the low growl of a sports car engine echoed from the driveway below.

After seven long months, Rowan was back.

I heard him head toward the guest suite. I exhaled a long breath and rolled over in bed.

And then my eyes snapped wide open.

I had gotten drunk on expensive wine last night and crashed in that exact guest room. Worse, I had dug out the pathetic love letters I wrote him in high schooland I had left them right there on the nightstand.

The hallway was freezing. I cracked open the guest room door and slipped inside. The sound of running water echoed from the master bath. Rowan was in the shower.

Holding my breath, I blindly patted down the dark room. Nothing.

The bathroom door swung open.

Rowan stood there with only a white towel slung dangerously low around his hips, water droplets trailing down the perfect V-line of his core over pale, rigid muscle.

Our eyes locked.

He stared at me, his voice flat. "Hiding someone in here?"

I forced my eyes away from his abs. "No."

Rowan casually dried his hair with a smaller towel. "Looking for me?"

I scrambled for an excuse. "Yeah just checking to make sure you weren't hiding some other woman in here."

That actually pulled a laugh from him. "If I had another woman, I wouldn't have come back tonight."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. "So you mean you've been with someone else these past seven months?"

I clamped my mouth shut.

But Rowan wasn't letting me off the hook. His eyes glinted with dark amusement as he stepped closer. "You really want to talk about this with me?"

I didn't get an answer. Pushing down the sudden, tight knot in my chest, I opened my mouth to fire back, but his phone started ringing.

Rowan casually threw on a bespoke silk robe and stepped to the floor-to-ceiling windows to take it. His fluent business call was laced with talk of a multi-hundred-million-dollar cross-border merger.

I didn't care about his Wall Street empire right now. I searched the room one last time before giving up and diving under the covers, faking sleep.

There was zero chance Rowan would actually share a bed with me. I would just tear the place apart tomorrow morning. I could not let him find those letters first.

Chapter 2

Somewhere between dreams and reality, the mattress dipped under a heavy weight beside me.

That night, I fell into a strange dream. A flashback to Rowan in high school.

The ruthless billionaire heir who rolled up to campus in a bulletproof Rolls-Royce. Pure, top-tier Alpha energyarrogant, untouchable, and devastatingly captivating.

He had a girlfriend back then. I didn't know what they fought about, but she was crying. Rowan was holding his varsity jacket, leaning down to helplessly coax her. I stood a few lockers away.

My fingernails bit so hard into my palms they went numb, and the entire loud hallway faded into static.

Dreams are ridiculously chaotic. One second, my chest was tight enough to crack ribs. The next second, I was dreaming I was yanking on a stuck sports car gearshift.

The bedroom lights snapped on.

Still half-asleep, I mumbled, "Why is this gearshift so hard? I can't even move it"

Rowan sucked in a sharp breath. "Open your eyes and look at exactly what you're doing."

A burning-hot hand clamped around my wrist and pulled it away. Rowan shoved off the bed and strode toward the bathroom. He shot a deadly glare over his shoulder.

"Keep messing around, and you're sleeping on the floor."

God, what a jerk.

By the time I woke up the next morning, bright California sunlight was pouring through the windows. I brushed my hand over the sheets beside me. Ice cold.

After dragging myself through a quiet breakfast, I found Rowan already waiting in the back of his sleek black Maybach. Today was the mandatory visit to the family estate.

The ride was suffocatingly silent. I finally broke the ice. "About last night my bad."

Rowan was swiping through a tablet, dealing with a merger. He didn't even look up. "What exactly were you digging for in my room?"

I froze, then decided to just rip the Band-Aid off. "Love letters."

"You wrote them?"

"Yeah."

His dark, mocking gaze finally slid over to my face. "A secret crush, huh?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "He was a senior at my high school. And he was incredibly hot, okay?" I stared dead at him as I said it.

Rowan let out a low, dismissive scoff. He couldn't care less.

I felt like a clown. What the hell was I even expecting?

"So what are you going to do now that you're married?"

I jerked my head up.

Rowan tilted his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Do I get to sleep in the middle of you two?"

The car rolled to a stop. Stepping out, I boldly grabbed the cuff of his custom Tom Ford suit. "If we're faking this, we go all the way. Hold my hand."

His expression didn't shift a millimeter. He was still locked on the previous conversation. "So, do I sleep in the middle, or what's your master plan?"

I shot back, "I'll throw you a spectacular funeral and bury you next to him!"

Rowan looked down at me, and this time, a genuine smirk cracked his icy exterior. Without another word, his large hand slipped over mine, his long fingers weaving perfectly through mine until our palms locked tight.

He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous gravel. "Then you'll just have to be a very good widow, wifey."

Approaching the grand iron gates of the estate, I knew this was all just a flawlessly executed performance. He didn't actually want to hold my hand. But hearing him call me wifey in that raspy voice? My heart still did a stupid, uncontrollable flip against my ribs.

The second we stepped into the palatial living room, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Waited from January to December, and Rowan finally decided his little bride is decent enough to show her face?"

Rowan was the family's illegitimate son, yet he ruthlessly controlled their entire Wall Street conglomerate with an iron fist. Probably to deal with a strict marriage clause in the family trust fund, he conveniently found me to sign the papers.

Rowan pulled a tight, chilling smile. "Just didn't want to disturb your peace, Mother."

"You mean you didn't want me disturbing yours." The older woman wrapped in a couture shawl sneered, her icy glare snapping to me. "Eden, was it? Go pour me a glass of champagne."

A waiter was standing right next to her holding a silver tray loaded with crystal flutes, but she singled me out.

I was just about to stand up when a heavy grip clamped down on my wrist.

Rowan leaned lazily back deep into the plush leather sofa, casually playing with the massive ten-carat diamond ring he'd put on my finger. "With all these male servants standing around, do you really need my wife to do it?"

"I just wanted a drink poured by my new daughter-in-law. Is she completely useless?"

"Of course not," Rowan replied, his voice dangerously smooth. "But my wife isn't here to serve you."

God, please stop acting

Chapter 3

God, I was falling for him even harder.

The heirs of this Wall Street dynasty were always "too busy" running their empires, so the family trust mandated a monthly dinner and overnight stay at the estate. The massive dining table felt like a morgue. This wasn't a home; it was a high-security prison masquerading as a mansion.

Back in the master bedroom, my pulse kicked up against my ribs. "I can just take the guest suite."

"That's a breach of contract." The prenup clearly stated: if the fake marriage was exposed due to my negligence, I owed him a five-million-dollar penalty.

I quickly changed the subject. "Do you and your mother always want to murder each other?"

Rowan didn't even look up from his laptop, typing away with zero hesitation. "Catching feelings, Eden? Trying to save my dark soul?"

"Didn't the woman who kept you company for the last seven months already try that?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "If there was someone else I actually wanted, why the hell would I marry you?"

Silence.

He just casually admitted he didn't have anyone he liked. A heavy, hollow sensation settled in the pit of my stomach. I opened my mouth to speak.

Everything went pitch black.

Outside, a massive thunderstorm raged, and a violent lightning strike instantly killed the estate's backup generator, plunging the entire second floor into endless, suffocating darkness.

By the time my brain caught up with the blackout, I had already scrambled blindly through the dark and planted myself right on Rowan's lap.

It wasn't like I was losing out. I just wanted an excuse to touch him.

"I'm terrified," I whispered.

Rowan's muscles went rigid under my thighs. "I'm more terrified."

The room was pitch black. "What are you scared of?"

His voice dropped into a dangerous, gravelly purr, vibrating right against my chest. "Scared I might lose control and make you violate that prenup."

This man had spent years dominating ruthless boardroom negotiations. He could read people like cheap flyers. It felt like he saw right through my pathetic, desperate crush.

I played dumb. "So why did you marry me?"

Rowan remained unfazed. His heavy arm rested casually over my bare knee, his thumb lightly pressing into my skin. "You're obedient. And you're broke."

Since when was I broke? Then I remembered my carefully constructed cover story. I clamped my mouth shut.

Even in the dark, I could feel the tension radiating off his rigid jaw. I figured his next words would be another threat to throw me on the cold hardwood floor.

"Rowan."

"What."

"Bet I can guess exactly what you're thinking right now."

We were so close I could feel the heat of his breath dusting my collarbone. Rowan slowly lifted his gaze, his eyes deliberately dragging down to my lips in the dark. "Then guess if I'd dare to do it."

A brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the room. His eyes were pure, predatory onyx, and my wide-eyed reflection was trapped right in the center.

"I think you would," I breathed out.

That actually caught him off guard. His thumb stopped moving on my knee. The silence stretched thick and heavy. Finally, his Adam's apple bobbed sharply.

He shifted his gaze away into the dark. "Don't have a condom."

It hit me like a freight train. We were not talking about the same thing.

The lights snapped back on. I scrambled off his lap like I'd been burned, my palms sweating. "Pervert!" I snapped, practically sprinting into the master bath to hide.

When I finally crept back out, Rowan was already typing away at his laptop again. The cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt were rolled up, his jawline sharp and unbothered. It was like those charged, breathless minutes in the dark never even happened. A bitter taste coated the back of my throat.

Dead of night. Sharing a bed again.

When he stepped out of the shower, I instinctively yanked the silk duvet all the way up to my chin.

"Relax, I'm not going to touch you," he stated, his tone chillingly flat.

I couldn't tell if he was trying to make me feel safe, or just crushing my hopes. I gritted my teeth and rolled over, pointing my back to him.

"Turn the lights off. It's too bright."

Surprisingly, he reached for the switch. "Go to sleep."

I scoffed into my pillow. "Don't worry, I won't touch you either."

"Yeah. Can't guarantee that once you're asleep."

My ears burned as hot as a stovetop. Flashing back to the physical trauma of what I accidentally grabbed last night God, it was definitely way too big to handle.

Rowan was always buried in his empire. He came back to the mansion so late that I was usually already dead to the world.

On the phone the next day, my bestie practically screamed through the speaker at my pathetic lack of progress.

Chapter 4

"How the hell do you sleep when you're sharing a bed with a guy that hot?"

I kept my voice low into the receiver. "I don't think he likes me."

"Obviously! If he actually liked you, he would've pinned you to the mattress on your wedding night. You have to make him fall for you, make him put a baby in you, get it?"

I hung up the phone.

She had a point. If I couldn't get his heart, I was at least going to get a taste of his body.

I was deep in my delusions when Bradley, my department manager, yelled out to me. "Eden, Rowan needs these files delivered immediately. Run this errand for me, will you? Thanks."

Without waiting for an answer, the bastard shoved the thick folders into my chest and walked off.

Years of being a corporate pushover. Just taking the hits. I took a deep, steadying breath. The second that ten million hits my bank account, I am quitting this toxic hellhole!

The drop-off location was at the luxury hotel right across the street. Perfect. I'd actually get to see Rowan.

But as I tracked down the penthouse suite number and knocked, it wasn't him who answered.

It was a woman. A woman wearing nothing but a thin white hotel towel.

Seeing the stack of files in my arms, she gave me a sweet, understanding smile. "My boyfriend just stepped out for a minute. You must be one of his employees."

My lungs seized. The air punched out of my chest.

I mechanically shoved the files into her hands, spun around, and walked away.

My legs felt like lead. A deafening, high-pitched ringing consumed my brain, drowning out everything else.

My fingers trembled as I pulled out my phone to call him. But my thumb froze over his contact. I didn't have the right to police his private life. Our marriage was just a multi-million-dollar contract.

A suffocating knot of agony tightened my throat. I skipped the tears, hailed a cab to a top-tier underground club, and ordered two smoking-hot male strippers. Throwing stacks of cash around like crazy was the only thing keeping me from shattering.

My bestie couldn't make it. Through the phone, she was screaming at me to stop drinking, warning me not to do anything I'd regret tonight.

The pulsing bass drowned out her voice.

My phone screen lit up again.

[ Rowan: Where are you. ]

I stared at it, pretending I didn't see it for a few seconds before aggressively typing back:

[ Working late. Working hard. So considerate. ]

My eyes burned with pathetic, hot tears. I furiously stabbed the keyboard:

[ Damn right I am! Yeah? Should I come over and pour you a drink? ]

My head snapped up. Blinding neon strobe lights slashed across the crowded club. I let out a shaky breath. Rowan was balls-deep in his little hotel hookup, there was no way in hell he was here.

But as I casually turned my head, my blood ran cold.

Across the room, my eyes slammed directly into his.

Rowan stood in the shadows of the VIP section, the cherry of a lit cigarette glowing between his long fingers. Dressed in a sharply tailored dark suit, his massive, imposing frame commanded the space. He took a slow drag. Through the haze of the smoke, his cold, lethal gaze locked onto me with absolute precision.

I was currently sandwiched between two shirtless male strippersone pouring my shot, the other literally feeding me fruit.

My brain short-circuited.

Rowan crushed his cigarette under his expensive leather shoe and started walking straight toward me with a slow, predatory saunter.

Seeing the lethal intent radiating off Rowan, one of the strippers whistled, a cocky smirk on his face. "Hey, baby, is this your boring ex? Looks like he's got a nasty temper."

I was paralyzed, unable to form a single word.

The stripper leaned in closer, brushing his bare chest against my arm. "Aren't we enough for you? Tell him to get lost so we can keep going."

Rowan stopped dead in front of us. He slowly turned his head, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly murmur. "Call her baby one more time. I dare you."

The stripper recoiled, the color draining from his face as he clamped his mouth shut.

I stumbled to my feet, the alcohol rushing to my brain in a dizzying wave. "Let's just go home"

Rowan stared down at me, a cruel, mocking smile playing on his lips. "And where exactly am I sleeping tonight, Eden?"

"Don't worry," I snapped back. "You won't have to sleep in the middle."

A dark, dangerous laugh escaped him. "So I've been replaced for the night, is that it?"

I gritted my teeth.

His expression snapped back to pure ice. His large hand clamped like a steel vise around my wrist, dragging me toward the exit.

I thrashed against his grip. "You get to screw around with your girlfriend in a hotel room, but I can't have a little fun? I'm allowed to make mistakes too!"

His grip tightened until my bones ached. He yanked me to a halt, his brows slamming together. "What girlfriend?"

"The one who was fresh out of the shower waiting for you!"

His phone started buzzing in his pocket. Rowan ignored it, casually pulling out a no-limit Centurion Black Card and tossing it onto the table to foot the bill. His suffocating, predatory glare terrified the two strippers into scrambling away, vanishing into the crowd.

Chapter 5

He was so generous.

After ending his call, his thumbs flew across his screen to fire off a text before his dark gaze snapped back to me. "Who taught you how to throw these ridiculous tantrums?"

I slid into the passenger seat. "Who's the one being ridiculous here?"

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose, his jaw ticking. He clearly wasn't going to entertain this. "You're drunk. Stop making a scene."

My phone started ringing. It was Bradley, my department manager.

The second I swiped answer, his voice exploded through the speaker. "I told you to deliver that file to room 913! Where the hell did you take it? The partners are still waiting in the conference room, and the CEO is already demanding it! If you don't want this job, pack up your desk tomorrow!"

I was already pissed off, and the alcohol had obliterated my filter. "You useless bastard! All you do is shove your work onto everyone else! You clearly told me to take it to 319"

The words choked in my throat. Reality crashed down on me. I had screwed up the room numbers.

Bradley was stunned into silence before exploding again. "Eden, you've got some serious nerve! I give you one simple task, and you throw a tantrum? If I were Rowan, I would've fired your ass yesterday!"

Driven by pure, reckless impulse, I shot back, "Well, he's sitting right next to me. Why don't you tell him yourself?"

Dead silence.

I had it on speakerphone. My head was pounding. I slumped against the cold glass of the car window and closed my eyes.

Beside me, a deep, incredibly smooth voice vibrated through the quiet cab. In my drunken haze, it felt like a dream.

I heard him say, "Speak to her in that tone again, and you'll be the one packing up your desk."

It started raining.

By the time I woke up, we were already parked at the mansion. I kept my eyes shut, and Rowan didn't bother waking me up. A massive arm wrapped securely around my waist, lifting me effortlessly against his chest. His muscular torso radiated a burning heat, carrying the damp chill of the rain.

I couldn't resist fluttering my eyes open just a fraction. I quietly studied his sharp jawline, and for some reason, my mind drifted back to the high school version of him. Brushing shoulders in the cafeteria, out on the football field, even just passing by the hallway lockers. Those fleeting moments had been branded into my brain for years.

Maybe my stare was too intense, like I was looking right through him to find someone else.

Rowan abruptly stopped walking. His dark eyes dropped down to mine.

"Who are you looking at?"

My cheeks were flushed with alcohol. "The guy I like," I mumbled.

His long fingers bit into my waist. The temperature in his eyes plummeted to absolute zero. He was definitely thinking about those damn love letters I was frantically searching for last time.

He threw me heavily onto the plush mattress, his massive frame trapping me. His rough fingers seized my chin, forcing me to lock eyes with his possessive gaze