Chapter 14: Agreement
1059 Words
“So this is about control,” I spoke quietly before I could stop myself.
Something flickered briefly across Gabriel’s face, though I was gone almost instantly.
Kyle looked up sharply from his chair, while Gabriel stayed calm.
“This is about stability,” he corrected. “About preventing speculation before it begins.”
I almost said something back, but the look Kyle gave me stopped the words in my throat.
It was watchful. Like he was silently warning me not to push it.
Gabriel stepped a little closer. Not enough to corner me, but enough to make me painfully aware of him.
The clean scent of his aftershave, the warmth of him standing near me, and the quiet steadiness in the way he carried himself.
“People notice changes,” he continued. “Especially around me.”
“What kind of change?” I asked.
“That something has shifted.”
The answer was vague enough to frustrate me.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I replied, as I tried to hold my breath, to not let myself get distracted by his scent.
“It does when people start filling in the blanks themselves,” he added, as his eyes stayed on me, clearly focused, like he was trying to figure out what I was thinking.
“So, I need this to look intentional,” he said softly, correcting himself.
The words settled strangely in my chest.
Because it suddenly, didn’t sound like reputation management anymore. It sounded personal.
Like he needed order restored before something spun out of his control.
“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” I asked carefully, as silence passed.
“By making it real.”
I blinked, as those words landed. “What?”
His expression didn’t change at all. Instead, he elaborated.
“By you agreeing to be my fiancée. Temporarily.”
The word hit me so hard my thoughts blanked out for a second, before my heart stumbled painfully against my ribs.
“That’s insane,” I blurted out, as I looked at him shocked.
“Maybe,” Gabriel replied calmly. “But it gives the situation structure.”
Structure, that was what he was focused on. For him, it wasn't about romance or feelings. That probably shouldn't have surprised me, but the way he said it settled wrong, like what had happened between us, needed to be contained before it became dangerous.
I shook my head immediately, as I stepped back. “People will talk. My parents, my friends—everyone.”
“They already will,” he said quietly, making my throat tighten.
“This gives you control over the narrative before someone else creates one for you.”
Once again, everything he said sounded carefully chosen, like he was deliberately avoiding saying what this was really about.
“And you?” I asked. “What do you get out of this?”
For a moment, he didn't say anything, before he then opened his mouth.
“Time,” he said.
It wasn't a lie, that much was clear, but it definitely wasn't the whole truth either.
I could see that immediately.
“You’re not telling me everything,” I confronted him, which made his jaw tighten slightly before he looked away for a brief second.
“No,” he admitted quietly.
The honesty of that should’ve frustrated me more than it did, but instead it just made something ache unexpectedly in my chest.
He reached past me, toward the table beside us. His sleeve brushed lightly against my arm in the process.
The contact was brief, clearly accidental, but it still sent a sharp little jolt through me before I could stop it.
He picked up a folder and turned back toward me.
“I wouldn’t ask this without giving you control over the terms,” he said.
For a minute, I hesitated before taking it from him.
My fingers brushed gently against his for barely a second.
They felt warm and steady, as I quickly pulled them back, and judging by the subtle shift in his gaze, he noticed.
“Six months,” he continued, opening the folder slightly so I could see. “There will be clear boundaries. Clear expectations. When it ends, you can walk away. No questions asked.”
His voice softened again. It didn't feel forced or intrusive. He was being patient, more then most probably would have.
I tried focusing on the pages in front of me, but it was difficult with him standing so close beside me—and also Kyle’s silent presence still lingering across the room like pressure against my skin.
Every time the silence stretched too long, my attention flickered toward Kyle automatically, wondering what he was thinking.
Wondering if he already believed I would become a problem eventually.
“This is a lot,” I murmured quietly.
“I know.”
“And if I say no?”
This time Gabriel didn’t answer as immediately as he had done the other times, so I looked up at him.
He was watching me carefully.
“Then I’ll deal with it,” he said at last.
Something about that answer made something pull in my chest unexpectedly because it didn’t sound cold.
It just sounded exhausted.
Like he was already trying to hold together something much bigger than me, and suddenly it didn’t feel like just some calculated arrangement anymore.
It felt like panic disguised as control.
My grip tightened slightly around the folder.
“This isn’t fair,” I whispered.
“No,” Gabriel agreed. “It isn’t.”
Silence settled heavily between us after that.
The air around us felt complicated, almost suffocating, as my thoughts tangled painfully together.
Thoughts about Tyler, the humiliation, the way Kyle was watching me like he expected me to destroy something important, and the way Gabriel was trying so hard to stay composed while something underneath him felt dangerously close to cracking, and beneath all of that, there was the quiet, persistent pull toward Gabriel I still didn’t know what to do with.
I shouldn’t say yes.
I knew that.
But...
“Six months?” I asked softly.
It wasn't agreement, not yet, but it was close enough to make something subtle shift in Gabriel’s expression: relief, but carefully restrained.
“Six months,” he echoed.
- Writer
