Chapter Seven: The Agreement
776 Words
Rhett didn’t do mornings.
He especially didn’t do mornings after.
But here he was, shirtless in his kitchen, watching Ella sit at his counter in nothing but one of his black button-downs and a fresh cup of espresso. Her legs were bare. Her skin glowed. Her eyes, even half-asleep, were sharper than he remembered.
She looked like she belonged there.
And that scared the hell out of him.
“You keep staring,” she murmured, blowing gently on the cup before taking a sip. “Should I be concerned?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m still deciding whether I should let you stay longer than coffee.”
“Funny,” she said, setting the mug down with a clink. “I already decided you’re not getting rid of me.”
The smirk that flickered across his face didn’t reach his eyes. “That sounds dangerous.”
“You are dangerous,” she replied. “So maybe we’re even.”
---
Later, he drove her back to her apartment.
Silence stretched between them, taut and unfinished.
He parked outside the building and leaned his elbow on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead. “What do you want from me, Ella?”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Now?”
“No. In general.”
She turned to him slowly. “I want to keep seeing you. I want more than club nights and alleyways. And I want you to stop pretending this is just sex.”
“It is just s*x,” he said too quickly.
Her lips curled. “If you believe that, you’re worse at lying than I thought.”
He didn’t reply.
Because he knew she was right.
Because he’d dreamed of her last night.
Because she’d made his controlled, calculated world feel real.
And he hated that.
---
The next day, she came home to a note under her door.
Red Room. Midnight. Rules have changed.
Her breath caught.
This wasn’t about another night.
It was about ownership.
It was about him no longer being able to push her away.
---
She found him waiting in the penthouse level of The Red Room.
This was different from before. No velvet beds. No cuffs.
Just Rhett in a black t-shirt, leaning against a wall of windows, the city lights casting him in shadow.
He looked at her, jaw tight.
“I’ve drafted an agreement.”
Ella tilted her head. “Excuse me?”
“Rules. Limits. Expectations.”
He handed her a folder. She opened it.
Inside were five typed pages.
One paragraph made her breath hitch:
Clause 6: Emotional boundaries shall remain intact. This arrangement does not constitute a relationship. No public displays. No declarations. No jealousy.
She looked up. “You actually wrote a no-jealousy clause?”
“I’m protecting both of us,” he said. “It gets messy when emotions get involved.”
“It’s already messy,” she said, tossing the folder onto the table. “You put me on your lap and told me I was yours. In your car, Rhett. That wasn’t just about control.”
His jaw flexed.
“And the way you looked at me this morning?” she whispered. “That wasn’t about sex.”
He stepped forward, slow and dangerous. “Then what was it?”
Her breath hitched. “You tell me.”
---
The kiss came fast. Brutal. Full of frustration.
He pressed her against the glass, his body a wall of heat and fury.
“Fine,” he growled. “Let’s break all the rules, then.”
Her fingers tugged at his shirt, nails grazing skin.
“I’m not afraid of messy,” she whispered.
His mouth crashed into hers again.
They didn’t make it to the bed.
He took her against the window, the city lights a blur behind them. His hands were everywhere. Her dress was gone. Her cries were muffled by his mouth. Every thrust was a declaration he wouldn’t let himself say out loud.
And when she came, he held her so tightly she couldn’t tell where her body ended and his began.
---
Afterward, she lay with her head on his chest, their breath still catching.
He traced lazy circles on her back.
No words.
No rules.
Just warmth and skin and silence.
She whispered, “You can’t keep pushing me away.”
“I know.”
“You can’t keep acting like you don’t feel this.”
“I feel it, Ella.”
A pause.
He said her name like a confession.
And for the first time, she didn’t feel like a guest in his world.
She felt like the center of it.
- Writer
