One Kiss Before the Contract Ends

Chapter 3: The Contract Proposal

The digital contract arrived in Ella's inbox less than a minute after her reply. It was as ruthlessly efficient as the man who had sent it. The subject line was stark: "Matrimonial Agreement - Blackwood/Reed."

Sitting alone in her silent apartment, the only light coming from her laptop screen, Ella clicked it open. The document was exhaustive, cold, and brutally specific. It outlined everything Alexander had promised, but seeing it in stark, legal black and white made it feel infinitely more real, and more terrifying.

Clause 4.2: The Parties agree to cohabitate at the primary Blackwood residence for the duration of the Agreement. Separate sleeping quarters will be maintained.

Clause 7.5: The Party of the Second Part (Reed) shall act in a manner befitting the spouse of the Party of the First Part (Blackwood) at all public and social functions, demonstrating affection and commitment as deemed appropriate.

Addendum B: A trust fund for the minor, Lia Reed, shall be established with an initial deposit of five million dollars, accessible only upon her eighteenth birthday or in case of medical emergency.

The numbers were dizzying. The stipend was more than generous; it was obscene. It was hushing money on a galactic scale, payment for selling two years of her life to a gilded cage. She scrolled further, her heart pounding.

Then she saw it. Clause 11.1: Confidentiality and Past Conduct.

"The Party of the Second Part warrants that there are no elements of her personal history, including but not limited to struggles with substance abuse, financial insolvency, or criminal record, that could cause reputational damage to the Party of the First Part or Blackwood Enterprises. Failure to disclose such information shall be grounds for immediate termination of the Agreement and forfeiture of all financial compensation."

The blood drained from her face. Her "struggle with substance abuse" was the very crack in her foundation she fought so hard to hide. He was clever. He hadn't asked her directly, which would have been a lie she'd have to consciously tell. He'd buried it in the legalese, forcing her to either warrant a truth she couldn't, or silently accept the clause and live with the sword of Damocles hanging over her head. It was a test. His first real test.

The next morning, she walked into his office at precisely 8:00 AM. She had printed the contract. Alexander was already there, the morning light carving out the sharp lines of his profile. He wasn't at his desk but leaning against it, sipping his black coffee, his posture radiating a lazy, predatory grace that made the air feel thick.

"Ella," he greeted, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the marble floor.

"Alexander." She placed the portfolio on the desk, maintaining a safe distance. "I've reviewed the contract."

"And?" His dark eyes traveled over her tailored suit, a slow, deliberate appraisal that felt more intimate than a touch. It stripped away the professional veneer, reminding her of the new, raw nature of their relationship.

"I have a condition," she said, her voice tighter than she intended.

One of his dark brows arched. "A condition?" He pushed off the desk, closing the distance between them. He was so close she could smell the clean, expensive scent of his soap, mixed with the dark roast of his coffee. It was an invasion, deliberate and unsettling.

"Clause 11.1. I will not warrant a past I cannot change." She held her ground, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. "You didn't hire a flawless porcelain doll; you hired a genius who is also a survivor. My past is my own. It will not be used as a weapon against me."

He didn't reply immediately. Instead, he reached out, and his fingers, surprisingly warm, brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. The gesture was possessive, practiced. Ella's breath hitched, her skin tingling where he had touched her. It was a whisper of the physical intimacy this contract would demand.

"Your 'past' remains your own," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw before dropping away, leaving a trail of fire. "So long as it remains in the past. But if it ever threatens my company…" He leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his voice dropping to a husky, dangerous whisper. "The consequences will be… severe."

The threat was clear, but the delivery was seductive. It was a confusing, potent mix of menace and allure that made her knees feel weak. This was the dark undercurrent he had warned her about.

"It won't," she managed, her own voice breathless.

"Good." He straightened up, the moment broken. "I'll have the clause amended. Now, sign it."

He picked up his platinum pen and offered it to her. Her hand trembled slightly as she took it. The metal was warm from his grasp. She flipped to the final page and signed her name. Eleanor Reed. The commitment felt more carnal than legal now.

Alexander took the pen back, his fingers deliberately wrapping over where hers had been. He signed with a sharp, definitive s***h. Alexander Blackwood.

He looked at their names, side-by-side. A slow, dark smile played on his lips. "Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwood." The title was a brand. "The performance begins tonight."

He didn't move away. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and the air crackled with a sudden, intense heat. The space between them was charged with every unspoken, R-18 possibility their new bond entailed—the forced proximity, the fake affection that could so easily turn real, the dark addiction to control and the surrender it demanded.

"Be ready at seven," he said, his eyes still locked on hers, promising a world of complexity and danger far beyond the gala itself. "Don't be late."