Vivian's POV
I sign the first three pages before something in me, small and quiet, asks a question I don't fully want to answer.
*What am I actually agreeing to?*
I look up at Marcus. He stands across the counter with a pen extended toward me, patient, warm, exactly the way he's been every single time he's needed me to move quickly instead of carefully. His navy suit looks pressed to perfection, not a thread out of place, the way everything about him always looks curated for maximum effect. There's a stillness to him in these moments, a practiced calm that used to comfort me and now, for reasons I can't quite pin down, makes my stomach tighten instead.
I set the pen down and look at him directly.
"Can I have a night to actually read this?" I ask, keeping my voice light even though my
