Chapter Two: The Deal
1076 Words
POV: Roman Adeyemi
“Do you honestly believe she will say yes?” My father shattered the quiet in the chamber with those words.
Silence came instead of words. Inside my head, Ava Clarke took shape - her sharp smile, that restless energy, how she stood tall while flashes exploded around her. A polished kind of chaos. The sort I kept finding my eyes drawn to.
“I don’t care if she agrees,” my father said, cutting me off. “She has to.”
Back in the seat, boots up on the gleaming desk, my gaze sharp. Still no sign of her. Yet once she walked in, everything shifted. That was just how it went.
Out came the door. No warning tap. Just how it always went. In she stepped, claiming every inch. My heart settled into its rhythm without asking.
Ava Clarke stood there - head high, gaze sharp. Fear didn’t touch her. Doubt stayed away. Respecting her felt necessary. Yet the urge to grab her, rattle her hard, grew just as fast.
“Sit.” My voice stayed hard.
“I won’t follow what you say,” she replied, folding her arms tight.
A grin pulled at the corner of my mouth, even though I tried to stop it. Because you’re going to do it anyway - that wasn’t a request. Her eyes narrowed. “Then I’m refusing. Already. Go ahead, tell me I’m reckless. Go ahead, judge me. I’m done being controlled.”
I almost laughed. Instead, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Fine. Refuse all you want. But understand this - the offer I’m about to make… it’s non-negotiable.”
My father leaned forward. “You marry her. One-year contract. Appearances only. Separate bedrooms. No romantic obligations. Public appearances controlled. You both walk away clean if it fails. Simple.”
Ava met my gaze without moving a muscle. Stillness held her face tight. Then slowly, her grin stretched wider than before.
“What happens if I say no?” My voice stayed steady, eyes holding firm without blinking.
“You will not do that,” my father stated, his tone ending the matter.
Her chin dipped sideways, eyes narrowing. "No kidding?"
Stillness settled like dust after a shout. My face stayed blank, eyes locked forward. The walls pressed closer without warning. There she stood - breathing, unbroken, fierce. Not what I needed. Yet my gaze refused to leave.
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s hear your terms.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Terms? You mean conditions? Rules?”
“Call it what you want. But I want them spelled out.”
A figure in a suit moved ahead, setting down a file on the surface of clear glass. Inside, rows of printed words waited - conditions stacked one after another. Every phrase built tight, meant to shield me, then the relatives, then what people might think. The pages sat still under flat light.
Her gaze was sharp. “Separate bedrooms. Penalty for public humiliation. No romantic obligations. And I control appearances. Got it?”
"Nice," I said, moving nearer. "So you get the last word?"
“I want survival,” she corrected.
Got it. I settled into my seat. Then - forward again. Closer now. My words slowed, quieter. One condition you’re not ready for.
Her brow lifted. “Oh? And what’s that?”
My hand passed the folder over, fingertips skimming hers by accident - maybe. A tiny touch. That was all it took. Words came slow: “Look at every line.”
She flipped through the pages, eyes scanning until she froze. “You… you put a financial clause if I back out of this entirely?”
I shrugged casually. “Not if. When. Your family’s fortune is tied to this. Walk away, and someone loses big. The media won’t care who’s right. Only who’s left standing.”
She blinked. “You - this is blackmail.”
Back I sat, pleased, watching sparks flash across her stare. Not a chance. That's power play. Here you are in Lagos, Clarke.
Silence pressed in tight. Every shift, every inhale, every look carried risk. Not once did she blink or move away. Her teeth just locked into place.
“I don’t play by your rules,” she said quietly.
“Good,” I said. “Because I don’t play by yours either.”
Something sparked when our gazes locked. The space between froze, then heated - suddenly alive. It wasn’t just fury. Wasn’t only pull. A mix of both.
“You realize,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, “that signing this contract doesn’t make us… friends?”
Leaning in close, a small smile began to show. Friends aren’t something I have - especially not with someone like you, never really had them at all
She exhaled sharply, standing. “Then let’s see how long I can survive this year.”
Down the hall she moved, each footfall sharp against the tiled floor, shoes snapping loud in the quiet. The air held still when she paused by the exit, one glance back over her shoulder. A half smile touched her mouth. Her voice cut through. You won’t be staying long,
Roman
A grin tugged at one corner of my mouth. Easy living never suited me
After that, she disappeared.
Silence filled the space. Leaning back, my father’s face turned hard. “One year. Stick to the surface. Consequences follow failure.”
Silence came first. My mind raced ahead, spinning possibilities. Pictures formed - Ava Clarke shifting, responding, clashing. Not a word left my mouth.
Afterward, sitting by myself at my desk, I went through the agreement I had signed. From inside the sheets, a piece of paper slipped out. My body stopped moving.
It wasn’t mine.
A piece of paper, thin and narrow, carried these words:
“I know what you’re hiding. I know what you did that night. This contract won’t protect you.”
Stillness took hold. The beat inside my chest wasn’t quite fright. Closer to a blade sliding under skin. A live wire sparking just beneath the surface.
A chill crept through the air. Over by the glass, my eyes lingered. Lights of the city sparkled without care. Yet heat rose from the paper clutched tight.
Faster than I thought possible, Ava Clarke tossed out a test I wasn’t ready for.
That one made me smile. It sat right with me.
- Writer
