Three hundred and sixty-five days.
Eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours.
Five hundred and twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.
Not that I’m counting.
In exchange, a financial arrangement that should make me feel disgusted—but doesn’t. Three hundred and forty thousand dollars. Not in some off-the-books hush money. Not as a lump sum, like I’m a bought-and-paid-for possession.
A salary.
Director of Sales at Elite Properties.
A position with power. With resources. With an actual title that can open doors for me long after this deal ends.
And more than that—a promise.
He’ll win back my parents’ house from Mike and Peggy. He’ll wipe them off the board like they’re nothing but inconvenient pieces in a game he’s already won.
That’s what it costs to buy me.
No. Not buy.
Secure me.
Because that’s what this is—a transaction wrapped up in a polished, cold-blooded contract that doesn’t even pretend to be romantic.
He’s willing to pay off every debt in my name. Every bill. Every past-due notice bleeding red across my kitchen counter.
He’ll erase it all.
More than that—he’ll secure the house.
No legal battles. No fights with Mike and Peggy. No patronizing lectures from realtors pretending to be empathetic while circling like vultures over my family’s legacy.
Just mine.
Ours.
My fingers tighten around my phone as I glare at the business card sitting next to the contract.
Black. Heavy stock. Minimalist.
Konstantin Belov, CEO.
CEO of what, exactly?
Belov Global Holdings.
A name I recognize. Of course I do.
Three hours of frantic googling at 2 a.m. can do wonders for your research skills. “Russian billionaire California” had yielded plenty—mostly photos of him looking murderous in custom suits.
Then I’d gone deeper. “Konstantin Belov mafia” brought up speculation, rumors, Reddit threads analyzing suspicious business acquisitions, and one particularly passionate blogger convinced he’d witnessed a Belov-ordered hit at a San Francisco restaurant. (The “victim” later appeared on a reality TV show, so probably not.)
I mean, the internet is full of conspiracy theories about successful Russian businessmen, right? People see a man with money and an accent and immediately assume he's some kind of criminal mastermind. It's basically xenophobia dressed up as internet sleuthing.
And the business acquisitions? Every billionaire has made aggressive moves. That's capitalism 101. You don't get to the top by being nice. Look at Elon Musk. Jeff Bezos. They didn't build empires by playing fair.
