CHAPTER TWO:NINETY DAYS TO BECOME HIS WIFE
1319 Words
The moment I signed the contract, the room seemed to change.
Or maybe it was me.
The air felt heavier, thicker—like I had crossed an invisible line and there was no going back. Damian Voss picked up the papers slowly, deliberately, as if he understood the weight of what I had just given him.
My freedom.
My name.
My life.
He read my signature in silence, his dark eyes scanning the page like it mattered more than the millions written above it. When he finally looked up, his gaze met mine with unsettling intensity.
“It’s done,” he said.
The words echoed in my chest.
I swallowed. “Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it?” My voice trembled despite my effort. “I sign a piece of paper and suddenly I’m your wife?”
“You’re my contract wife,” he corrected calmly. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” I asked bitterly.
For the first time since I met him, something flickered across his face—something almost human. Almost regret.
“You’ll find there are many differences,” he said quietly.
He stood and moved around the desk. I stiffened instinctively as he came closer, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. He noticed. Of course he did.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Damian said.
I let out a humorless laugh. “You kidn*pped me, threatened my life, and forced me into marriage. What part of that is supposed to be comforting?”
He stopped a few feet away. “I didn’t force you.”
“You cornered me.”
“I gave you a choice.”
“A choice between marriage and death,” I snapped.
His jaw tightened. “In my world, that’s still a choice.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy with unsaid truths.
“Sit,” he said finally, gesturing toward the chair.
This time, I did.
He leaned against the desk instead of sitting across from me, his posture relaxed but alert—like a man who never truly let his guard down.
“We need to go over the rules,” Damian said.
I lifted my chin. “I have rules too.”
That surprised him. I could tell by the slight lift of his brow.
“Go on,” he said.
“I don’t want to be touched without my consent,” I said firmly. “Not by you. Not by anyone in this house.”
A pause.
Then he nodded. “Agreed.”
I blinked. I hadn’t expected that.
“And I won’t be humiliated,” I continued. “I won’t be paraded around like a trophy.”
“You won’t be,” he said. “You’ll be presented as my equal.”
The word sent a strange ache through my chest.
“My turn,” Damian said.
I braced myself.
“Rule one,” he said. “You don’t leave this estate without security. Ever.”
“I’m not a prisoner,” I protested.
“You’re a target,” he replied coolly. “That’s not negotiable.”
I clenched my hands in my lap. “Fine.”
“Rule two: you don’t ask about my business.”
“That won’t be hard.”
“It will,” he said. “Curiosity is dangerous.”
I said nothing.
“Rule three,” he continued, his gaze sharpening, “you don’t lie to me.”
“I won’t,” I said. “As long as you don’t lie to me.”
A pause.
“That,” he said slowly, “will be… difficult.”
I almost smiled.
“And the last rule?” I asked.
His eyes held mine.
“You don’t fall in love with me.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
I scoffed. “Trust me. That’s not a risk.”
“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t fall in love.”
Something in his tone told me that wasn’t entirely true—or at least, that it hadn’t always been.
Rosa showed me to my room later that night.
It wasn’t just a bedroom. It was a suite—elegant, expansive, suffocatingly luxurious. Silk sheets. Soft lighting. A balcony overlooking the city I had walked freely only hours ago.
“This is your room,” Rosa said gently.
“Our room?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head. “No, dear. The boss sleeps in the west wing.”
Relief washed over me so fast it left me dizzy.
When Rosa left, I stood alone in the center of the room, unsure what to do with myself. Everything felt unreal—like I would wake up at any moment and find my ordinary life waiting for me.
A knock came at the door.
Damian.
He didn’t come in immediately. He waited.
“You can come in,” I said.
He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on me.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said.
“I don’t feel safe,” I admitted.
“That will change.”
I looked at him. “Does it ever get easier? Living like this?”
His expression darkened. “No.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because I don’t get to choose who I am,” he said quietly. “And neither do you. Not anymore.”
The honesty startled me.
“I didn’t want this,” I said.
“Neither did I,” he replied.
For a moment, the tension between us shifted—less predator and prey, more two people trapped in something bigger than themselves.
Then his mask slipped back into place.
“Tomorrow,” Damian said, “you meet my people.”
My stomach clenched. “As your wife?”
“Yes.”
“And if I mess up?”
“You won’t,” he said. “Because I’ll be watching.”
His gaze lingered on my face—too long, too intense. Something dangerous stirred in the silence between us.
He stepped back.
“Get some rest,” he said. “You’ll need it.”
He turned to leave.
“Damian,” I called softly.
He paused.
“If this destroys me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “will it have been worth it?”
He didn’t answer right away.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough.
“It already has,” he said. “And we’ve only just begun.”
The door closed behind him.
I didn’t sleep.
Every sound echoed too loudly. Every shadow felt alive. I lay awake thinking about his eyes—about the way he looked at me like I was both a liability and something dangerously precious.
By morning, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.
A knock sounded.
“Mrs. Voss,” a man’s voice said. “It’s time.”
Time for what?
When I stepped into the hallway, I found my answer.
The mansion was awake.
Men in suits. Armed guards. Quiet murmurs in foreign languages. Power moving like a current through the walls.
At the center of it all stood Damian Voss.
Waiting.
He turned the moment he sensed me, his gaze locking onto mine. Something changed in his expression—dark, possessive, unmistakable.
He crossed the room and extended his arm.
“Smile,” he murmured. “They’re watching.”
My heart pounded as I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm.
As we walked forward together, his fingers tightened slightly around mine.
“From this moment on,” Damian whispered, close enough that only I could hear,
“you are mine.”
And as dozens of eyes turned toward us, I understood the truth too late—
The contract wasn’t the most dangerous thing I had agreed to.
Being seen as Damian Voss’s wife was.
- Writer
