THE CONTRACT
1357 Words
The dress was red.
Of course it was red.
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the guest room, staring at a woman I didn’t recognize. The silk clung to my body like it was trying to erase the last 3 days I’d spent in a hospital chair. Hair curled. Makeup perfect. The 5-carat ring on my finger catching the light and throwing it back at me.
It felt like a lie.
A knock.
“Ms. Carter. The car is waiting.”
I wasn’t Ms. Carter anymore. According to the internet, I was Mrs. Blackwood.
I followed the housekeeper down to the lobby. Damian was already there. Black suit. Black tie. Black eyes that swept over me once and then went blank.
“You clean up well,” he said. No compliment in it. Just fact.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I shot back.
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “We leave in 5. Press conference at the Blackwood Tower. Then lunch with my board.”
“And then?”
“And then you go back to playing nurse at the hospital. Just don’t let the cameras see you.”
Right. The contract. Public wife, private stranger.
The Rolls Royce was silent except for the sound of the city outside. Damian typed on his phone the whole ride. Emails. Deals. Probably buying another company before lunch.
“Rule 1,” he said without looking up. “We don’t touch unless there are cameras.”
“Got it.”
“Rule 2. You don’t speak to the press unless I nod.”
“Understood.”
“Rule 3.” He finally looked at me. “You don’t ask me personal questions. And I won’t ask you any.”
I nodded. The ring felt heavier.
Blackwood Tower was glass and steel and money. 100 floors of it. Reporters were already waiting behind barricades. Cameras flashed the second we stepped out.
Damian’s hand found the small of my back. Warm. Possessive.
“Smile,” he murmured, lips barely moving. “You just married me.”
I smiled. It hurt.
“Mr. Blackwood! Who is this?”
“Is this about the merger?”
“Mrs. Blackwood, are you pregnant?”
Damian squeezed my waist once. A warning. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, voice cutting through the noise. “This is my wife, Ava Blackwood. We married in a private ceremony last week. We ask for privacy as we begin this new chapter.”
New chapter. That was one way to put it.
More flashes. More questions. My head spun.
Then I saw him.
Standing across the street.
Ryan.
Liam’s father. The man who left when the diagnosis came. He was staring right at me. At the ring. At Damian’s hand on me.
My stomach dropped.
Damian felt it. His grip tightened. “Keep smiling,” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t look.”
But I did. For one second. Ryan looked away first.
Inside, the boardroom was worse. 12 men in suits, all staring at me like I was a problem to be solved.
“Damian,” the oldest one said. “This is sudden.”
“Is it?” Damian sat at the head of the table and pulled me into the chair beside him. Close. Too close. “I’m 35. It’s time.”
“And she’s a nurse,” another man said. “With a sick child.”
“With a sick child who will now receive the best care money can buy,” Damian said smoothly. “Any other questions about my personal life, or can we discuss the Q3 projections?”
They got the message. No one brought it up again.
Lunch was a blur of steak I didn’t eat and wine I didn’t drink. Damian’s hand never left my thigh under the table. A reminder. An anchor.
When we got back to the penthouse at 3 PM, I was exhausted.
“I need to go to the hospital,” I said.
“Car’s waiting,” Damian replied. “But Ava.”
I turned.
“Ryan was there,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“How did you—”
“I pay people to watch. Rule 4. No contact with exes. You broke it.”
“I didn’t talk to him!”
“You looked at him.” Damian stepped closer. “That’s contact enough for the press. For my enemies. For me.”
“Or what? You’ll rip up the contract?”
His eyes darkened. “I won’t rip it up. I’ll enforce it.”
The air went cold.
My phone buzzed. Hospital.
“Ms. Carter? Liam’s asking for you. He’s stable but he keeps crying for his mom.”
I was out the door before Damian could say anything else.
The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and fear. Liam was awake, pale, with an IV in his tiny arm.
“Mommy!” He reached for me. “Where were you?”
“I’m here, baby.” I scooped him up, careful of the tubes. “I’m always here.”
He buried his face in my neck. “I had a bad dream. The man in the black suit was yelling.”
My blood went cold. “What man, sweetie?”
“The one from the TV. He was with you.”
Damian. He’d been on the news.
The door opened. And there he was.
Damian Blackwood. In a hospital. Holding a bouquet of flowers that looked ridiculous in his hands.
The nurses froze.
“Get out,” I said quietly.
“I’m not leaving,” he said. “I’m your husband.”
“You’re not his father.”
“No,” Damian agreed. He set the flowers down and looked at Liam. “But I’m the one paying to keep you alive, kid.”
Liam stared at him with big, scared eyes.
Damian crouched down. To my shock, his voice softened. “Hey. I’m not here to yell. I brought you this.”
He pulled a small toy car from his suit pocket. A black Rolls Royce.
Liam took it slowly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Damian said. Then he stood and looked at me. “Can we talk? Outside.”
In the hallway, I crossed my arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking my investment,” he said. But he didn’t sound cold. He sounded tired. “And making sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You haven’t eaten. You haven’t slept. And you looked at your ex today.”
“So? The contract doesn’t say I can’t look.”
“The contract says a lot of things,” Damian said. He stepped closer. “But it doesn’t say what happens when I start caring about what happens to you.”
My breath caught. “That’s not part of the deal.”
“I know,” he said. “Which is why it’s a problem.”
A nurse walked by and Damian immediately stepped back. Put space between us. The mask back on.
“I’ll have the driver bring you home after visiting hours,” he said, all business again. “Don’t talk to Ryan.”
He turned to leave.
“Damian,” I said.
He stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Why the car? For Liam?”
A pause.
“Because he looked scared,” Damian said quietly. “And no 5-year-old should look scared.”
Then he was gone.
I went back to Liam. He was asleep now, clutching the toy car.
My phone buzzed.
`Damian: Rule 7. Starting now. No more lies between us. Even if it’s in the contract.`
`Damian: And Ava? I meant what I said. Don’t fall in love with me.`
I stared at the text. Then another came.
`Damian: Because I’m already breaking every rule I made for you.`
Outside the hospital window, it started to rain.
Day 2 of 180.
And the contract was already on fire.
*[END OF CHAPTER 2]*
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