The Contract
1574 Words
Tiffany stood in the doorway holding two coffees, staring at Olivia Carter and Ethan Blackwood sitting close together with a thick legal document between them.
"Mister Blackwood? What is going on here?" Tiffany asked, her voice sharp with jealousy. "I brought your coffee and -"
"Leave it on the table and get out," Ethan said without looking at her. His voice was ice. "And Tiffany, next time you enter my office without knocking, you will be looking for a new job. Do you understand?"
Tiffany's face turned red. She put the coffees down hard so they spilled a little.
"Yes, Mister Blackwood," she whispered, and backed out, but not before she shot Olivia a look that said this is not over.
The glass doors closed.
Ethan exhaled slowly and rubbed his temples.
"Where were we?" he said.
"You were trying to buy a wife for one hundred thousand dollars," Olivia said. She crossed her arms. Her tote bag was on her lap like a shield.
"I am trying to hire a wife for thirty days," he corrected. "There is a difference."
"Not a big difference from where I am sitting," she said.
He slid the contract closer to her. The first page was simple, black letters on white paper.
"Read it," he said. "Out loud, so I know you understand."
Olivia picked it up with shaking hands. The paper was heavy and expensive. She started reading, her voice small.
"Contract of temporary marriage between Ethan Blackwood, thirty two years old, and Olivia Carter, twenty four years old. Duration thirty days. Compensation one hundred thousand dollars, payable in two installments. Fifty thousand dollars upon signing. Fifty thousand dollars upon completion of thirty days and successful approval by grandfather."
She looked up.
"Successful approval? What does that mean?"
"It means my grandfather and grandmother must believe we are truly married and in love," Ethan said. "My grandfather is very old and very smart. He will test us. If he believes we are lying, I lose the two billion dollars and you lose the second fifty thousand dollars."
"Great, so I have to be an actress now too," Olivia muttered, and continued reading.
"Conditions. Condition one. No romantic feelings to develop between parties. This is a business arrangement. Condition two. No physical intimacy beyond what is required for public appearance. No kissing unless required for photographs. No -" She stopped, her cheeks turning pink. "No shared bed. No intimate touching."
"Keep reading," Ethan said. His face was perfectly neutral.
"Condition three. Confidentiality. No party shall disclose the nature of this contract to any third party, including family and friends, excepting legal counsel and housekeeper Rosa Martinez and grandmother Eleanor Blackwood's limited knowledge as required."
"Condition four," Ethan said for her. "You will move into my penthouse tonight. You will have your own bedroom and bathroom. You will have access to my car, my chef, my housekeeper. You will attend all family dinners, galas, and board events as my wife."
"Tonight?" Olivia said, her voice rising. "I have to move in tonight? My mother -"
"Your mother will be taken care of," Ethan said. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. He put it on speaker.
"Queens General Hospital, billing department," a woman answered.
"This is Ethan Blackwood. I am calling about patient Maria Carter. I want to pay eighty seven thousand dollars today in full for her surgery. Yes, today. I will wire the money within the hour. I need confirmation that her surgery will be scheduled for tomorrow morning."
Olivia stared at the phone, her mouth open.
"Yes, Mister Blackwood, we can do that. We have been waiting for payment. If payment arrives today, we can schedule surgery for eight am tomorrow."
"Good. My assistant Margaret will call you with wire details. Thank you."
He hung up. He looked at Olivia.
"Your mother will have surgery tomorrow morning at eight. The best cardiac surgeon in New York will perform it. I already booked him."
Tears filled Olivia's eyes before she could stop them. Hot, fast tears that ran down her cheeks.
"You... you paid it? Just like that? Without me signing?"
"I told you I would pay before you sign so you know I am serious," he said quietly. "I do not break promises, Miss Carter."
"Why?" she whispered. "Why are you doing this for me? You do not even know me."
"Because I need you," he said simply. "And because you looked at me this morning like I was a monster when I fired you. And you were right. I was being a monster."
Olivia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her hands were still shaking.
"Okay," she said. "But I have conditions too."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You have conditions for my conditions?"
"Yes. Condition one from me. You do not tell me what to wear, what to eat, or who to talk to. I am your fake wife, not your real slave."
"Acceptable," he said.
"Condition two. You respect my mother and my friends from Queens. You do not look down on them because they do not live in Manhattan."
"Acceptable."
"Condition three. You never use money to control me. If I say no to something, you accept no."
He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.
"Acceptable. Anything else?"
She thought for a second.
"And you buy your own coffee from now on. I am done being your coffee girl."
That time he did smile. A small, real smile that made his gray eyes warmer.
"Deal, Miss Carter."
He reached into his desk and took out a black pen, expensive and heavy, and handed it to her.
"Sign here," he said, pointing to the last page.
Olivia stared at the signature line. Olivia Carter. Next to Ethan Blackwood.
This was crazy. This was insane. She was about to marry a billionaire she had known for three weeks, who had fired her an hour ago, for one hundred thousand dollars.
She thought of her mother in the small apartment in Queens, coughing at night, pretending she was fine.
She thought of the eviction notice on her door.
She thought of forty two dollars in her bank.
She picked up the pen. Her hand was shaking so hard the pen wobbled.
She signed. Olivia Carter. In messy blue ink.
Ethan took the pen and signed under her. Ethan Blackwood. Strong, clean, confident letters.
"Congratulations, Miss Carter," he said, standing up. "You are now my wife."
"It is Mrs Blackwood," she said weakly, trying to joke.
"No. Not until we are in front of my family. In private, you are still Olivia Carter. In public, you are Mrs Blackwood."
He pressed a button on his desk.
"Margaret, bring the rest of the paperwork. And call my driver. Mrs Blackwood will need a car tonight."
"Mrs Blackwood?" Olivia repeated, her heart hammering.
"Get used to it," he said. "Pack your bags. You move into my penthouse tonight at eight pm. My housekeeper Rosa will prepare your room. Bring only what you need. Everything else will be provided."
"What do you mean everything else will be provided?" she asked, suddenly nervous.
"I mean clothes, shoes, makeup, everything a wife of mine would wear. You cannot wear your college suit to a Blackwood family dinner. My grandmother would have a heart attack."
"I like my suit," she said, offended.
"You have one suit. You wear it every day. My wife needs twenty suits."
"I do not want your clothes!"
"You signed the contract, Mrs Blackwood. You agreed to appear as my wife. My wife does not wear a suit that is two sizes too small."
Olivia stood up, angry now, her tears gone, replaced by fire.
"You know what, Mister Blackwood? You may have bought my signature, but you did not buy me. I will move into your penthouse tonight because I have to, but I will wear what I want. And if you do not like it, you can fire me again."
She grabbed her tote bag and marched toward the door.
Ethan watched her, his eyes dark and amused and something else she could not name.
"Olivia," he said quietly, just as she reached the door.
She turned.
"You forgot your copy of the contract."
He held it out. She walked back and snatched it.
"And one more thing," he said, his voice low, close enough that she could smell his cologne, clean and expensive.
"What?"
"For the next thirty days, you sleep across the hall from me. Try not to tempt me."
Her cheeks burned red. "I would never tempt you!"
"No?" He leaned a little closer, his eyes dropping to her lips for just a second. "Then why are you blushing, Mrs Blackwood?"
She gasped and turned and yanked open the glass doors and stormed out, past Tiffany and the entire floor who were all pretending not to stare, straight into the elevator, her face on fire, holding a marriage contract worth one hundred thousand dollars.
The elevator doors closed. She was alone.
Her phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Driver downstairs. Black car. License plate B L A C K one. Eight pm pickup. Do not be late. Wear something nice. Ethan.
She stared at the text. Then she typed back with shaking fingers.
Olivia: I do not take orders from my fake husband.
Unknown: You do for thirty days. See you tonight, wife.
- Writer
