Chapter Five: The Rules of the Game
The law office smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne, a place where decisions worth millions were made every day. Amara sat stiffly in a chair that probably cost more than her monthly rent, her palms damp against the folder in front of her.
The contract lay open, every line glaring back at her in stark black and white. Six months of marriage. Cohabitation required. Attendance at public events. Confidentiality clauses. And the list went on.
Ethan sat across from her, calm and composed, as though this was nothing more than another business deal. His charcoal suit fit like it had been sewn onto him, and his expression never wavered as the lawyer droned through each section.
Amara swallowed hard. "So, let me get this straight. I have to move into your mansion, attend every event you do, and pretend to be hopelessly in love with you?"
"Correct," Ethan said smoothly.
"And no… actual marriage duties?" She flushed the moment the words left her mouth.
A corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "None, unless you decide otherwise. This is strictly business."
Her cheeks burned, but relief washed over her all the same.
The lawyer cleared his throat and tapped the last page. "Clause Nine: Emotional entanglements are to be avoided. This is a professional arrangement only. No real relationship beyond the public image."
Amara's head snapped up. "You actually wrote that in?"
"I like clarity," Ethan said simply. "I don't mix work with emotion. You shouldn't either."
Something inside her bristled. He sounded so cold, so mechanical, as if human connection were nothing more than a liability. She wanted to argue, but the lawyer kept reading.
"Clause Eleven: Confidentiality is absolute. No interviews, no leaking details to the press. Violation will result in severe financial penalties."
Amara tightened her grip on the pen in her hand. "You really don't trust anyone, do you?"
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady, unreadable. "Trust is earned. So far, you're an unknown variable. That's not a bad thing—it just means we keep boundaries."
Amara's stomach twisted. Unknown variable. As though she were nothing more than a math problem to be solved.
Finally, the lawyer slid the document toward her. "If you're ready, Ms. Johnson, you may sign."
Her pulse pounded in her ears. This was it—the moment that would change everything. She thought of her mother, frail but smiling as she tried to hide her coughing fits. Of Daniel, burning himself out trying to keep their little family afloat. Of her own weary nights, wondering how long she could keep sacrificing.
This deal was her answer. Maybe not the fairytale one, but a survival one.
Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up the pen. She glanced at Ethan. His face was calm, but his eyes—those sharp gray eyes—watched her with unnerving intensity.
With one stroke, she signed her name.
"Done," the lawyer said briskly, gathering the papers. "You're legally bound. The marriage ceremony is scheduled for this weekend. Arrangements will be discreet until then."
Amara's breath caught. "This weekend? Isn't that a little fast?"
Ethan rose smoothly, buttoning his jacket. "The sooner the better. The press is circling like sharks. We need to move before they catch the scent."
He extended a hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Amara placed hers in his. His grip was firm, steady, and far warmer than she expected.
"Welcome to the arrangement, Mrs. Knight," he said quietly, his tone unreadable.
Her heart skipped a beat. The title didn't belong to her—not really—but hearing it in his deep voice sent a shiver down her spine.
And for the first time, Amara realized what she had signed up for wasn't just a contract.
It was a storm.