AMAYA ROSE POV
I told myself I wouldn't be nervous.
I lied.
The O'Brien headquarters towered over the skyline, all glass and steel. Cold. Untouchable.
Like him.
I adjusted my coat and stepped inside.
The receptionist looked up immediately with a friendly smile.
"Amaya Petrakis", I told her with a gentle smile of my own.
"Ms. Petrakis. He's expecting you."
Of course he was.
"Please follow me."
The elevator ride felt longer than it should have. Each floor passing like a countdown.
When the doors opened, she led me down a quiet hallway to the only office on the floor.
The name on the door read:
LUCAS O'BRIEN
CEO
She knocked.
A calm but commanding voice answered from inside.
"Come in."
"You may go in now, ma'am," the receptionist said politely before walking away.
I took a slow breath and pushed the door open.
There he was.
Lucas O'Brien.
Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in his pockets, the city stretched beneath him.
He didn't turn when I entered.
"Close the door," he said calmly.
No hello.
No welcome.
Just an order.
I closed it.
The click echoed through the office.
Then he turned.
And for one irrational second, my breath caught.
He was nothing like the boy I remembered.
He was taller, broader, sharper. More dangerous.
More attractive, if I was being honest.
But his eyes...
Those grey eyes were the same.
Intense.
Unsettling.
Lonely.
"You agreed," he said.
Straight to business.
"Yes."
My voice stayed steady.
I refused to let it shake.
"It's not like I was left with much of a choice"
He studied me slowly, like he was evaluating an investment.
"Sit."
I sat.
He remained standing.
Then he walked behind his desk and slid a document toward me.
"A contract," he said.
"Three years.
Public marriage.
Separate bedrooms.
No emotional obligations."
The words were precise.
Cold.
My chest tightened anyway.
"And after three years?" I asked.
"We divorce quietly. The debt disappears, and my inheritance clause is fulfilled."
So simple.
So clinical.
"So this is just paperwork to you?" I asked.
"Yes."
He didn't hesitate.
"And it should be the same for you."
That shouldn't have hurt.
But it did.
"And if I decide I don't like your terms?" I asked.
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"You won't."
Silence stretched between us.
"You're very confident," I said.
"I don't make offers I can't control."
There it was.
Control.
Power.
Calculation.
I folded my hands in my lap so he wouldn't see them trembling.
"You said you would protect me."
"I will."
"From what?"
For a split second, something flickered in his eyes.
Fear.
Then it disappeared.
"From things you don't need to know about."
That unsettled me more than a threat would have.
"I don't want to be kept in the dark."
"This marriage is for protection, Amaya," he said evenly. "Not a partnership. I owe you nothing more than that."
The way he said my name...
Careful.
Measured.
Like it meant something he refused to acknowledge.
"You don't get to decide what I can handle," I said quietly.
Something shifted in his posture.
Interest.
He walked around the desk and stopped in front of me.
Too close.
Close enough for me to want to take a deep breath and drown in his cologne.
Close enough for memories to surface.
A boy laughing beside a fountain.
My eyes closed as if on instinct, like I was waiting for something that didn't come.
"This marriage is a contract," Lucas said coldly.
Then his gaze dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second, I could swear they lifted up in a smirk.
"Don't misunderstand my intentions."
He noticed.
That made my heart beat rapidly for a beat, I could swear Lucas could hear it.
"You've grown," he said.
His voice was low.
Not affectionate.
Just observant.
"I would hope so," I replied.
For a moment, the corner of his mouth almost lifted.
Almost.
"You understand this isn't a romantic relationship," he continued. "I don't do romance."
"That's convenient," I said. "Neither do I."
It was a lie.
And he knew it.
I saw it in his eyes.
"Good," he said.
Then he stepped back, restoring the distance between us.
"The engagement announcement goes public in two weeks," he continued.
"The wedding will take place within three months."
"You'll move into my residence after the ceremony."
Move in. Live with him. Sleep under the same roof. Separate bedrooms. Business.
My pulse quickened.
"One more thing," he added.
"What?"
His gaze hardened slightly.
"If this arrangement ever puts you in danger, you follow my instructions without argument."
Danger.
The word lingered between us.
"What aren't you telling me?" I asked, meeting his eyes.
Those grey eyes seemed to pull me deeper the longer I looked.
"Nothing you need to worry about," he said, turning away.
I stood.
"I don't like not knowing."
"You'll get used to it."
My jaw tightened.
"You don't control me, Lucas."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Not yet."
The words were quiet.
But they felt like a warning.
Silence filled the room again.
"Sign it," he said.
I picked up the pen.
For a moment, I hesitated. This was the point of no return.
Then I signed.
The scratch of ink against paper sounded louder than it should have.
Lucas watched the entire time.
When I finished, he took the contract without even glancing at it.
"It's done."
Just like that. No congratulations. No reassurance. Nothing.
I turned toward the door.
My hand was on the handle when his voice stopped me.
"Rose."
I froze.
Slowly, I turned back.
Hearing that name from him felt strange.
Familiar.
Dangerous.
"I don't intend to hurt you," he said.
His voice was steady.
But something in his eyes wasn't.
"I know," I replied.
And that was the dangerous part.
I trusted him.
As I stepped out of his office, one chilling thought crossed my mind.
This wasn't just a marriage contract.
It was a battlefield.
And I had just walked straight into enemy territory.