Terms And Temptations
492 Words
Elara Monroe stared at Damian Cross as if he had lost his mind.
“Let me get this straight,” she said, voice tight. “You want me to pretend to be your fiancée so your family leaves you alone?”
Damian leaned back in his chair, exuding the effortless confidence that had always annoyed—and secretly intrigued—her. “Exactly.”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “And what do I get out of this ridiculous arrangement?”
He smirked. “Your boutique is failing, isn’t it?”
Her stomach clenched. The fact that he knew stung. She had spent years building E.M. Designs from the ground up, pouring every ounce of her passion and savings into it. But passion didn’t pay bills, and her savings had run dry.
Still, she refused to let him see her desperation.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said stubbornly.
Damian tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Sure you will. But wouldn’t it be easier with an investment?”
Elara swallowed. “You’d invest in my business?”
“I’d do more than that.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “I’ll pay off your boutique’s debts and introduce you to the kind of clients who would kill to wear your designs.”
It was too good to be true.
“What’s the catch?” she asked warily.
His smirk faded, replaced by something unreadable. “For the next six months, you’ll be my perfect fiancée. We’ll attend events together, play the devoted couple, and convince my family that I’ve finally settled down.”
Her breath caught. “Six months?”
“You’ll live with me.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Absolutely not.”
“Elara.” His voice was smooth, coaxing. Dangerous. “If we’re going to be engaged, people will expect us to live together. It has to look real.”
She clenched her fists under the table. This is insane. This is reckless.
But this was also an opportunity she couldn’t afford to ignore.
She exhaled sharply. “Fine. But I have conditions.”
His lips twitched. “Let’s hear them.”
“One, no touching unless absolutely necessary.”
His gaze flickered with something dark. “Define necessary.”
She ignored the heat crawling up her neck. “Public appearances only. Two, I get final say on anything involving my boutique. You don’t interfere.”
He nodded. “Fair.”
“And three,” she took a deep breath, “when this is over, we go our separate ways. No strings, no complications.”
Something flickered in his expression—something almost unreadable. “Agreed.”
Elara reached out her hand. “Then we have a deal.”
Damian took her hand, his grip warm and firm.
“Welcome to your new life, fiancée.”
And just like that, she knew—she had just made a deal with the devil.
- Writer
