BEAUTY AND BEHOLDER

CHAPTER FOUR

Terms and Conditions

The conference room felt cold, almost sterile, despite the warm afternoon sun filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her eyes were locked on the man sitting opposite her — Mason Hale.

He was leaning back in a leather chair, arms crossed, face unreadable but sharp. Mason looked like someone who carried heavy secrets and even heavier scars. His presence filled the room with a quiet intensity that was impossible to ignore.

The air between them hummed with something unspoken—pressure, tension, maybe curiosity. Ryan couldn’t afford to think too hard about which. All she needed was to accomplish her mission which is to acquire the position of the CEO; all she has worked for throughout her life.

Ryan stood at the head of the long glass table, her posture straight and commanding. She wore black—sleek, sharp, armor in the shape of a dress. Her heels clicked against the tile as she walked up to him with no hesitation. Never hesitate.

She took a deep breath, setting herself up for what was to come.

“Let’s be clear,” she began, voice steady and cool. “This is a business deal. And it will stay like that. Nothing personal. No emotions. No distractions. Just a contract, do you understand?”

Mason smirked, that half-amused curl of his lips. “Business deal? That makes it sound simple.”

“It is simple,” she responded.

“Maybe to you but not to me,” he replied, his tone easy but watchful. “But marrying someone—even on paper—gets too complicated a speed. It's complicated as it seems and sounds.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “I'm not here to discuss the simplicity of the business with you. It's not game time. I’m here because signing a contract is the only way to deal with the situation at hand”.

Mason studied her carefully, folding his hands on the table. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing faint scars along his forearms “ And how exactly do I get to solve your mystery?”

Ryan didn’t hesitate. “Three years. Full confidentiality. No personal or emotional involvement.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “Separate lives? So, we don’t share a bed? Don’t have dinner? Don’t even talk outside of official appearances. How do we get to play the perfect couple's acts if all of these aren't in place?”

“Exactly,” Ryan said, her voice firm. “I am on the edge of losing all I have worked for due to the condition on the ground, I can’t afford any distractions.”

He let out a low laugh—dry and skeptical. “You want to be in charge of the whole story. You want to control the game and me in it?”

“I’m not trying to control you,” Ryan replied, sharper now. “I’m trying to protect what’s mine — Salvador Global and my future.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the glass table. His voice dropped an octave. “And what is there about your future? How am I in it?”

Ryan met his gaze, unflinching. “You’re a means to an end. A public face. You act the part of a husband. That will be all you have to do.”

Mason’s eyes flickered, the warmth draining from them like light from a stormed-out sky. “I’m not a puppet, Ryan. You don't expect me to do an excellent job if you want to dominate the story.”

“You’ll be exactly what the board expects,” she said, cold and certain. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“ And who is the board?”, he asked in a quiet but annoyed tone.

He shook his head slowly, a trace of frustration breaking through for the first time. “This isn’t going to work if you think you’re the only one playing a role.”

Ryan’s jaw felt tight. “I don’t mind playing the game.”

“Perfect, Miss Ryan Salvador,” Mason said, rising to his feet and pacing slowly. “Because I don’t either.”

He paused by the window, looked out straight ahead at the city but did not see the city below.

“I’ve done this same s**t for people of your calibre and it's just so surprising you all said the same thing. People of High-value targets. Corporate heirs. Politicians. Every one of them thought they were too smart to stay alive in their lies. It doesn't work that way. If it does, you wouldn't require my service.”

She watched him in silence.

“I have once played the role of a husband before,” he continued. “Public enough to make the tabloids. Private enough to make my skin crawl. She went back on every one of the plans and agreements we made. Sold details to the press. Claimed I abused her. Said I threatened her.”

Ryan’s expression didn’t change, but her fingers curled slightly against her palm.

“So, what happened?” she asked.

“I sued her,” he simply said . “ and I backed off from the game.”

Ryan stepped forward now, slowly, her voice calm but edged. “ That is not going to happen with me.”

“It surely won’t happen,” he said without looking at her. “Because I don’t consider another person betraying me the second time.”

They stood like that for a while, in a heavy silence without choices. The light shifted slowly over the table, casting long shadows across the polished floor.

“What are your demands?” she asked finally. “Aside from the payment agreed on.”

Mason turned to face her. “Truth. No PR stories. No legal team twisting it. If I’m going to play the lie with you, I need to know what’s real in this story.”

“You want to know my secrets?”

“Not everything. Just want to know what is leading you to this and how we can make them see the truth in their opinions with the acts. I want to know everything and anything concerning what I'm getting myself into .”

Ryan crossed her arms. “I don’t implode.”

He tilted his head. “It will eventually happen.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Mason watched her carefully, trying to read beneath her polished exterior. Ryan held his gaze, letting him look and daring him to find a c***k.

“Here it is, ya,” she said. “I have been prepared for this company from age nine. I passed out in a boardroom at fifteen from exhaustion. My father once told me I was lucky he had sons, or I would’ve been expected to marry by eighteen.”

She stepped closer.

“I was ten when my mother left my father. My only brother, who is the oldest died in a crash. Nelly—my younger sister—is next in line, and if I fail this clause, she inherits everything I have worked for.”

Mason listened without comment.

“So no, I won’t implode,” she finished. “I’ve survived the worst than paperwork and cameras.”

He gave a slow nod. “That's fair enough.”

Ryan reached into a folder and pulled out a drafted contract. Seventeen pages. Clear clauses. All tailored to perfection.

“You’ll receive full medical, legal, and identity protection,” she said, sliding the folder across the table. “The agency will backdate a courtship. Public photos will be staged. We’ll have a six-month engagement period and a very public wedding. After that, quarterly interviews and joint appearances. All Scripted.”

Mason flipped through the pages without saying much. Then: “No physical intimacy clause?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You don't need one?. Do you?”

“No,” he said, smirking faintly. “Just checking how we are being literal.”

“In case of any changes, we renegotiate,” she said crisply.

“I like clarity.”

“So do I.”

Mason tapped the final page, then looked up. “What will happen after three years?”

“We filed for a divorce. Amicable. Quiet. You walk away with your share of the deal, I keep what’s meant for me, the company.”

“And if one of us breaks the agreement before due time?”

“You will be penalized. A breach of contract will trigger litigation. Clauses are ironclad.”

Mason leaned back in the chair again, silent. Then finally: “I get it.”

“Okay?” Ryan asked.

He extended his hand across the table.

“Three years. Full confidentiality. Separate lives. No romance. Just optics.”

Ryan took his hand, her grip firm.

“Agreed.”

He shook it once, then dropped her hand and gave a small, almost reluctant smile.

“This is just the beginning,” Mason said.

Ryan nodded. “Then let’s make it worth it.”