THE CONTRACT

Chapter Three: The Gala

The hospital discharged Diego Rodriguez three days later with a list of medications, a stern warning from the cardiologist, and strict orders to rest. He'd protestedI have a company to runbut Elena had shut that down fast.

You have a daughter who needs you alive, she'd said. So sit down and shut up.

Diego had blinked at her. Then laughed. Then hugged her so tight she nearly cried.

Now, standing in the penthouse suite of the Blackwood Hotelthe Blackwood Hotel, God, was there anything this man didn't own?Elena stared at her reflection and wondered how many wrong turns she'd taken to end up here.

The gown was black. Silk. Backless. Marcus had sent it to her apartment that morning with a note: Wear this. No arguments.

She'd argued anyway. In her head.

But she'd worn it.

Sofia had helped her zip it up, her eyes wide. Elena. This is insane. You're engaged to Marcus Blackwood. The Marcus Blackwood. I looked him up. He's worth eleven billion dollars. I didn't even know there were that many dollars.

I know.

And you're not happy about it?

Elena had looked at her sisteryoung, hopeful, still believing that money solved problemsand felt a wave of exhaustion.

It's complicated.

Now, staring at herself in the hotel mirror, she heard a knock on the suite door.

Come in.

Marcus walked in. He wore a black tuxedo, tailored within an inch of its life. His hair was slicked back. His jaw was cleanshaven. He looked like a weapon.

He stopped when he saw her.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he said, You look

Don't.

acceptable.

Elena blinked. Acceptable? Then she saw his mouth twitch. Just barely.

You're joking.

I never joke. He walked toward her. But I do lie. So take it as you will.

He stopped behind her, facing the mirror. Their eyes met in the reflection.

You clean up well, he said quietly.

So do you.

Don't sound so surprised.

He reached around hershe flinchedbut he only adjusted the necklace she'd tried and failed to clasp. His fingers brushed the back of her neck. Warm. Steady. She hated how her skin reacted.

There, he murmured. Now you look like you belong to me.

I don't belong to anyone.

We'll work on that.

He stepped back. Extended his arm. Shall we, Mrs. Blackwood?

Not yet. I'm not your wife. I'm your fiancée. There's a difference.

Not to the press.

The gala was everything Elena expected and worse.

Crystal chandeliers. Champagne towers. Women in gowns that cost more than her car. Men in suits who looked at her like she was a piece of meat or a puzzle to solve. Possibly both.

Marcus kept her close. His hand never left her back. His smile was perfectwarm when it needed to be, cold when the cameras got too close.

They moved through the crowd like a single unit. Elena smiled until her cheeks ached. She shook hands until her fingers went numb.

And then she saw him.

Her father. Standing near the bar, looking pale and exhausted, clutching a glass of water like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Excuse me, she said to Marcus. I need to

He followed her gaze. His jaw tightened.

Your father shouldn't be here.

I know. But he's stubborn.

So he is.

They crossed the room together. Diego saw them coming. His expression shiftedsurprise, then confusion, then something like shame.

Elena. He glanced at Marcus. Mr. Blackwood. I didn't expect to see you here.

Your daughter invited me, Marcus said smoothly. I'm her fiancé.

Diego's glass slipped from his fingers. It shattered on the marble floor.

Yourwhat?

Elena grabbed her father's arm before he could stumble. Dad, let me explain

Explain what? That you're marrying the man who's been trying to destroy us? That you didn't think to tell me? His voice rose. People were turning. Elena, what have you done?

Marcus stepped forward. His voice was calm. Controlled. Mr. Rodriguez, I understand this is a shock. But perhaps we should discuss this in private.

Private? You want to talk about private? Diego's face was red. You've been buying up my company. You've been threatening my family. And now you'reyou're what? Buying my daughter?

Dad

Don't. Diego looked at Elena, and she saw something in his eyes she'd never seen before. Fear. Tell me this isn't about the money. Tell me you didn't sell yourself to save me.

Elena's throat closed.

She couldn't say it. Couldn't lie to him. Couldn't tell the truth either.

Marcus stepped in. Your daughter is the bravest woman I've ever met. She didn't sell herself. She made a choice. For you. For your family. For the company you built. If you want to be angry, be angry at me. But don't you dare make her feel small for loving you.

Silence.

Diego stared at Marcus. Marcus stared back. Neither blinked.

Finally, Diego let out a breath. His shoulders slumped.

I need to sit down, he said.

Elena helped him to a chair. When she looked up, Marcus was gone.

She found him on the balcony, alone, staring at the city lights.

The music from inside was muffled here. The air was cold. He didn't turn when she approached.

You didn't have to do that, she said.

Do what?

Defend me. To my father.

He was quiet for a moment. Then, I meant what I said. You're braver than anyone I know.

Because I agreed to marry you?

Because you love your family enough to sacrifice for them. He turned. His eyes were dark. Unreadable. I don't know many people who would do that.

Don't.

Don't what?

Don't be kind to me. Elena's voice shook. It's easier when you're a monster. I know what to do with monsters. I don't know what to do with... this.

Marcus stared at her for a long moment.

Then he reached out. Took her hand. His thumb traced her knuckles.

I'm not kind, he said quietly. I'm selfish. I'm angry. I'm broken in ways you can't imagine. But watching you stand up for your father? Watching you fight for something bigger than yourself? He shook his head. It makes me want to be better.

Then be better.

It's not that simple.

Why not?

He dropped her hand. Turned back to the city.

Because I've spent twenty years building walls. I don't know how to take them down without destroying myself in the process.

Elena stepped closer. Stood beside him. Shoulder to shoulder.

Then let me help.

He laughed. Bitter. You hate me.

I do. She paused. But I also see you. The real you. The one you're hiding from everyone else.

And what do you see?

She turned to look at him. A man who's been hurt. A man who's scared. A man who's been waiting his whole life for someone to prove they won't leave.

Marcus's jaw tightened. His eyes glistened.

Stop, he whispered.

I won't.

Please.

She touched his cheek. Just a graze of her fingers.

He caught her wrist. Held it. His grip was gentle. Desperate.

You're dangerous, he said.

So are you.

He kissed her.

It wasn't like the first timethe angry, desperate kiss in his office. This one was slower. Softer. His hand slid to her waist. Hers rested on his chest. She could feel his heart pounding.

When he pulled back, his eyes were wet.

That was a mistake, he said.

Yes.

Don't expect it to happen again.

Wouldn't dream of it.

He let go of her. Walked back inside. Left her alone on the balcony with the cold air and the city lights and the taste of him still on her lips.

She touched her mouth.

Damn you, she whispered.

But she wasn't sure if she meant it anymore.