**CHAPTER 6** **WINNIE** The world around me fades into a blur as I stand too close to Archer Moore, his presence enveloping me like a warm, intoxicating fog. His scent is unlike any other—a rich, deep aroma that clings to my senses, a fragrance that will linger in my memory long after he has left. In a sea of men whose colognes all blend into a monotonous chorus of familiarity, Archer stands out, unique and captivating. I’m so lost in this hypnotic concoction of allure that I barely catch the words tumbling from his lips. A smile flickers across his face, subtle yet significant, a treasure I didn’t expect. The tales of Archer—a titan among Manhattan’s elite—ping through my mind like echoes in a vast chamber, tales told by women at every event, all with the same longing in their eyes. Did I just stumble into a fairy tale where I am now bound to marry this man? It feels absurd, my very reality flipped upside down. “Winnie?” Archer prompts, his voice cutting through my reverie. His hand reaches toward me, as if to brush my arm, before hesitating and retreating. “Yes?” I reply, my heart racing. “Are you listening? I’m not a fan of repeating myself, and trust me, you’ll learn that quickly.” I nod, attempting to steady my thoughts. My best friends, with their discerning eyes, will surely see through my façade. They know me—know I’m the worst liar. I have to convince them that I’ve fallen head over heels for a man I hardly know, one I’m about to marry without their knowledge. “Have we come to an agreement, then? We’ll evaluate the terms of our marriage after the holidays next year.” Archer’s words hang in the air, and I process the timeline—over a year feels daunting, yet somehow, his logic holds weight. “Fine,” I interject, my tone sharper than intended. The reality of my situation hits hard. Just last night, I was thinking I was falling for one man—only to wake up to betrayal and find myself shackled to another. “Is that no argument I hear?” he teases, lifting a dark brow, as if expecting a more spirited response. I simply shake my head, trying to maintain the illusion of control. But deep down, I know this mess is my doing. The scandalous video that could expose my family's struggles looms over me like a dark cloud, a noose tightening around my neck. I can’t bear to tangle my father’s name in further disgrace. Tyson, my brother, is poised to take over the family business when my father steps aside. I can’t allow my missteps to ruin his hard-earned path. The weight of my family's legacy rests on my shoulders, and I refuse to let it crumble. Archer’s gaze, sharp and searching, sweeps across my face. “Your silence is more troubling than you know. Are you plotting something I’m unaware of?” A smile escapes my lips, surprising me. Archer has depth—a surprising personality hidden beneath layers of mystery I had yet to unravel. There’s more to him than just the facade of a cold, mysterious billionaire. “What I’d give to read your mind,” he mutters, his voice low. My eyes lock with his, noting the indifference he wears like armor. Did he even mean for me to hear that? “One year,” I assert, firmness creeping into my voice, “and then we discuss divorce.” “No,” he corrects me, a serious edge slicing through his tone. “We’ll analyze our marriage after the holidays. Many endure this arrangement for a lifetime, Winnie. Consider yourself fortunate we’ll even have a discussion.” Under his scrutinizing gaze, heat spreads across my skin. Archer hands me the magnitude of choice I never wanted. “One more thing—starting immediately, you’ll move in with me,” he insists. I inhale sharply, disbelief coloring my tone. “That wasn’t included in the agreement.” “Actually, it was. Consult your father. Safety is paramount. I will handle Blake, but you must come live with me.” A frown knots my brow. “My apartment suits me just fine.” He exhales a sigh, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Did I honestly believe you’d comply?” I bite the inside of my cheek—my father would likely breathe out the same exasperation. I had defied expectations, and now everything has collapsed. “I don’t even know you, Archer. Moving in with a stranger—that’s absurd.” “You’ll be my wife tomorrow. It’s foolish to assume you’d live anywhere but with me. To play this part, our lives must intertwine.” Despite the validity of his point, I bristle at the thought. My space, my sanctuary, is sacred, and I’m about to surrender it to a man I hardly know. “What if I don’t like your apartment?” I counter indignantly, lashing out from a place of lost control. “Your preferences matter little; you won’t be there.” “Didn’t you just state we *have* to live together?” I fire back. “Yes, but I have a penthouse across from Moore offices. For late-night work, my brownstone on the Upper East Side is far better suited—quieter too.” “Never lived with a man before,” I affirm, the tension thickening the air. A smirk curls his lips. The proximity shifts, infusing the space between us with an electric pulse. “So, what’s it going to be? Will you agree, or are you intent on wasting more of my time?” His tone carries a lightness that starkly contrasts the weight of his words. “I’m still weighing my options,” I reply, honesty slipping from my lips. His head tilts, curiosity ignited. “About what?” “Why you’re agreeing to this. Everyone knows my great-grandfather severely wronged your family. You owe us nothing. Are you certain this isn’t a form of revenge?” He scoffs, fingers dancing over the cufflinks on his tailored suit. The subtle brush against my chest sends a wave of electricity through me. “One could say our revenge is rather complete. We’ve overtaken a significant slice of the market—Bishop Hotels doesn’t hold a candle now. We’re advancing faster, with better satisfaction ratings. But this marriage gives us leverage we didn’t have before.” I absorb his words, locking my gaze onto his enigmatic face. There has to be a deeper motive behind this union; I can't shake the feeling of being drawn into a game where stakes are dangerously high. “No one knows me to be a patient man, Winnie. I’m biting my tongue right now, and I don’t see the point in prolonging this discussion. Your family needs this—*you* need this. Say yes. Become my wife tomorrow.” His breath hitches, eyes fixating on my lips, a quick flicker of something simmering beneath the surface. My heart accelerates, the rush of emotions from the recent chaos crashing over me. It feels absurd for my pulse to race over a man with whom I have so little history. Deep down, I recognize the futility of this back-and-forth: if my father insists, I’ll follow through. It’s the safest route—no matter how much my gut warns me against it. But something profound shifts within me as I contemplate the weight of this decision. “Okay,” I whisper, my focus drifting away from his piercing gaze to the fabric of his tailored shirt. “*Okay?*” His voice reflects disbelief and perhaps a hint of hope. “We both know I’m out of options, Archer. I’ll marry you tomorrow. But know this.” Anticipation stills his movements as he leans in closer, eyes widening slightly. “Tell me anything.” There’s something different about the tone of his voice—an underlying heaviness, a hint of an unguarded moment. Women have pined for his attention, yearned for even a fleeting glance. I’m about to embark on a path that will ensure he’ll have all of mine. “Winnie…” he urges, voice gravelly with the weight of unnamed emotions. “I’ll marry you tomorrow,” I reaffirm, “but if there was any other way to avoid this, I wouldn’t hesitate to choose it. I’ve trusted a man before, and I won’t do it again. You can call me your wife; just don’t expect my trust to accompany it.” Before he can respond, I slip beneath his arm, hastening my escape from the tension-laden air of that small office. As I pull the door open, a final glance reveals that his gaze is aflame, creases of frustration etched deeply into his brow. For a fleeting moment, I want to ask why my words upset him, but I think better of it and step into the hallway, leaving him behind. The next time our paths cross, it will be on our wedding day.