feel?”
“I’m not Mrs. Thorne yet.”
“Technicality.” He waved his hand dismissively. “The engagement announcement goes out Saturday. Big fancy press release. ‘Marcus Thorne, CEO of Thorne Dynamics, announces his engagement to long–time girlfriend Elara Vance.‘ Very romantic. I might cry.”
Elara blinked. “Saturday? That’s in four days.”
“Yep. Which means you need to get your things packed. You’re moving in with him this week.”
The words took a second to register. “Moving in? With him?”
“Well, yeah.” Dante looked at her like she was slow. “Every couple lives together, don’t they? You can’t be engaged and
living in separate apartments. People will ask questions.”
“But I didn’t agree to….”
“It’s in the contract.” Marcus’s voice cut through her protest. He was still standing by the window, arms crossed. “Page
seven. Cohabitation clause.”
Elara’s mouth opened. Closed. She hadn’t read page seven yet. Hadn’t read anything beyond the signature line because
her brain had been too busy screaming about what she’d just done.
“Also,” Dante continued, pulling out another folder, “you’re not allowed to be in a relationship with anybody else for the next two years. No dating. No hookups. Nothing. If you’re caught with someone, the contract is void and you pay back everything.”
“I wasn’t planning on dating anyone.”
“Good. Marcus isn’t either. Although let’s be honest, when does he ever?” Dante slid the full contract across the table.
“Here. Read through it. All forty–three pages. There’s some stuff we added after our conversation yesterday.”
Elara picked up the contract. It was heavy. Thick. The kind of document that took lawyers weeks to draft.
She flipped to the payment terms section.
*Payment: Two million dollars USD. One million upon signing. One million upon successful completion of contract term.*
Two million,
Her eyes scanned the words again to make sure she’d read them correctly. Marcus had offered one million yesterday. This
was double.
*Wait.” She looked up at Marcus. “You said one million.”
“changed my mind.”
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“Why?”
“Does it matter?” His expression gave away nothing. “Not enough?”
“No, it’s….”
“Three million then.”
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“What? No!” Elara’s head was spinning. “Two million is more than enough. I just don’t understand why you’re offering more.”
Marcus finally moved from the window, walking closer. “Because’l need this to work. And underpaying you increases the risk of you backing out halfway through.”
Dante coughed. “Translation: he’s desperate.”
“Dante.”.
“Just keeping it honest, boss.”
Elara stared at Marcus. He was standing close enough now that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Six foot two, maybe taller in the Italian leather shoes he wore. Even as her devil advocate, he was annoyingly attractive. Sharp jawline that could cut glass. Dark eyes that saw too much. Lips that were somehow both cruel and kissable.
She knew they were kissable. She’d tested that theory in the fire exit.
Stop it.
“Miss Vance?”
Marcus’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She blinked, realizing she’d been staring at his mouth.
“Sorry. What?”
“I asked if you understood the confidentiality clause.”
Heat crept up her neck. “Yes. I can’t tell anyone about the contract. If I do, the deal is off.”
*Correct.”
“Of course.” She clutched the contract tighter. “I understand.”
Dante stood, gathering his things. “Alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Elara, read through everything. Call me if you have questions. Marcus, try not to terrify your future wife before Saturday.”
He left.
The office felt smaller suddenly. Just her and Marcus and forty–three pages of legal terms that were about to control the next two years of her life.
“You can go,” Marcus said. “Read the contract. We’ll discuss moving arrangements later this week.”,
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Chapter 9
Elara nodded and walked out.
Her office felt like a sanctuary. Small and cramped, but hers. She closed the door, sat at her desk, and opened the contract.
Page one: Terms and Duration. Two years starting from the date of legal marriage.
Page seven: Cohabitation. Both parties must reside in the primary residence (Marcus Thorne’s penthouse) for the duration of the contract.
We have to live together.
The man hated her. He’d spent three years making her life miserable. And now she was supposed to share an apartment with him? Sleep under the same roof? Pretend they were in love?
Page twelve: Public Appearances. Both parties must attend social events, business functions, and family gatherings as required. Public displays of affection are expected.
PDA. She’d have to hold his hand. Let him touch her, Kiss him in front of people.
She wasn’t even his type. Marcus dated models. Actresses. Women who wore designer dresses and had personal trainers. Not assistants who bought their clothes from clearance racks and lived paycheck to paycheck.
Page eighteen: Exclusivity. Both parties agree to refrain from romantic or sexual relationships with third parties for the duration of the contract.
No other relationships. She almost laughed. Who would want her anyway? She worked eighty hours a week and had a personality that most people described as “too intense.”
Page twenty–nine: Termination. Either party may terminate the contract early by paying five million dollars to the other
party.
Five million. Per person. If either of them wanted out before the two years were up, they’d owe the other five million
dollars.
Elara kept reading. Thirty more pages of legal language. Clauses about behavior expectations. Media guidelines. What happened if one of them got sick. What happened if someone died.
By page forty–three, her eyes were burning.
She closed the contract and leaned back in her chair.
Two million dollars.
With that kind of money, she could pay off Victor completely. Cover her mother’s treatment. Move them out of that apartment where Luca knew the address. Maybe even help Leo transfer to a real university instead of community college.
She could quit working as Marcus’s assistant. Actually have a life outside of emails and impossible deadlines.
But first, she had to survive two years married to the man who’d made the past three years hell.
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Elara pulled out her phone. She’d have to come up with a story. Tell people she’d been secretly dating her boss. That they’d fallen in love. That the engagement was real.
She wasn’t telling her mother. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Her mother would ask too many questions. Want to meet Marcus. Get excited about a wedding that was nothing but a business transaction.
No. Better to keep her in the dark.
Two years.
She could do two years.
Her phone buzzed. A text from the bank.
*Deposit received: $1,000,000.00*
Elara stared at the number. All those zeros. More money than she’d ever seen in her life, sitting in her account like it belonged there.
Her life was about to change.
She’d treat her mother. Get them a new apartment. Maybe even take a vacation once this was all over.
Luca could rot in whatever bar he was hiding in. She was done saving him.
The contract sat on her desk, waiting to consume the next two years of her life.
But for two million dollars and her mother’s life?
She’d sign it again in a heartbeat.
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