Private Terms

4. Terms & Conditions

I should have read the contract before signing it. That thought came to me about three seconds after I put the pen down. Maybe five.

I stared at my signature at the bottom of the page, suddenly feeling like I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life.

Tristan, however, looked completely unfazed. He took the contract from the table, flipped through the pages, and stopped at the first page.

"You've signed it."

I nodded. "Yes."

"Good."

Good? That was it? I looked at him in disbelief. "That's all you're going to say?"

"What else should I say?"

I opened my mouth. Then closed it again. Fair enough. I was the one who had agreed to this.

I glanced at the stack of papers in his hand. "Can I read the contract now?"

His eyebrows lifted slightly. "You should have done that before signing."

"I know."

"Then why didn't you?"

I lowered my gaze.

Because I needed the money.

Because I was desperate.

Because I was terrified that if I spent too much time thinking, I'd lose my nerve and walk away.

I didn't say any of that. Instead, I muttered, "I trust you."

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them.

Tristan stared at me. For the first time since I entered the room, his expression changed. Not much. Just a slight narrowing of his eyes. "That's a dangerous thing to say to a stranger."

I looked away. "I know."

He slid the contract back toward me. "Read it."

I took the papers. There were more pages than I'd expected. A lot more. I swallowed before turning to the first page. The title was written in bold letters.

PRIVATE RELATIONSHIP AGREEMENT.

I frowned. "Private relationship?"

"Yes."

"Why does that sound more serious than what Jeremy told me?"

"Because it is."

I looked up. Tristan had already picked up his phone. He seemed completely comfortable leaving me to discover the rest on my own. I took another breath and continued reading.

The first section was relatively simple. Our relationship would be presented publicly as romantic. That meant I would accompany him to certain events, dinners, family gatherings, social functions, and other occasions where his presence with a partner was expected.

I frowned. "So I really have to act like your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"All the time?"

"Not all the time."

I looked at him. "Only when we're in public?"

"Primarily."

I nodded slowly. That didn't sound too difficult. I had spent years pretending that my life was better than it actually was.

Pretending to be wealthy. Pretending I could afford expensive restaurants. Pretending those designer bags were proof of a luxurious life rather than evidence of how badly I'd managed my finances. Pretending wasn't exactly new to me.

I continued reading. The next section made me pause.

The contracted partner must maintain discretion regarding all matters concerning Tristan Lysander, his family, business interests, residence, and private affairs.

I looked up again. "What does this mean?"

"Confidentiality."

"I know what confidentiality means. I mean, how much am I not allowed to say?"

"Everything concerning me."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

I stared at him.

"Even if someone asks?"

"Especially then."

I sighed. "Fine."

I kept reading.

Then came the part about photographs. We would be photographed together when necessary. I would not post anything about him on social media without his permission. I would not sell photographs or information to the media. I would not speak to journalists about our relationship. I would not disclose the existence of the contract.

I paused.

"That's a lot of rules."

Tristan didn't even look up. "You haven't reached the important part."

My eyes moved down the page. Then I saw it.

The contracted partner shall remain available whenever her presence is reasonably required within the agreed terms of this agreement.

I frowned. "Whenever?"

"Within reason."

"That's not what the sentence says."

"That's why the next paragraph exists."

I read it. The contract stated that Tristan had the right to request my presence at predetermined events or personal engagements, provided that he gave reasonable notice unless there was an emergency.

I looked at him. "So I have to be available whenever you call?"

"Not whenever."

"Then what?"

"You'll have a schedule."

I blinked. "A schedule?"

"Yes."

"This is starting to sound like a job."

"It is a job."

I stared at him. "You said it was a relationship."

"It is both."

I didn't know whether to laugh or scream.

I lowered my eyes and continued. The next section explained the duration of the agreement. I read the number twice. My eyes widened.

"Six months?"

"Correct."

"That's it?"

"That's the initial term."

I nodded.

Six months. I could handle six months. Surely. Six months of pretending to be his girlfriend in exchange for enough money to completely rebuild my life didn't sound like the worst deal in the world.

Then I reached the section about compensation. My eyes widened again. The amount was exactly what Tristan had promised.

A significant portion would be transferred immediately after the contract became effective, with the remainder paid according to the agreed schedule.

I nearly stopped breathing. This was real. The money was real. For the first time in months, I could imagine waking up without checking my phone and wondering which debt collector would threaten me next.

I swallowed hard. "You're really paying this much?"

Tristan looked at me. "You think I'd waste my time negotiating over a small amount?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Then there's no problem."

I continued reading. And then I reached the section that made my fingers stop moving.

Physical intimacy between both parties is strictly prohibited unless mutually agreed upon in writing.

My eyes widened. I read it again.bThen I looked at Tristan. He was watching me.

"This means exactly what I think it means, right?"

"Yes."

"No physical relationship."

"Correct."

I breathed out in relief. At least there was one line I wouldn't have to cross.

I continued. There were rules about alcohol. About overnight stays.bAbout traveling together.bAbout introducing one another to friends and family. About maintaining appearances. About arguments. Even about jealousy.

I stopped. "Wait."

Tristan looked up.

I pointed at the page. "This one."

He waited.

"Neither party is permitted to demonstrate possessive behavior outside the boundaries of the contractual relationship."bI looked at him suspiciously. "Why is this necessary?"

"Because people confuse acting with reality."

"And you're worried about me getting jealous?"

"No."

His answer came too quickly.

I narrowed my eyes. "Then why put it in the contract?"

"Because I've seen relationships become complicated when people forget why they started."

Something about the way he said it made me quiet. There was a strange weight behind those words. But I didn't ask. It wasn't my business.

I lowered my eyes again. The final pages contained the consequences of violating the agreement.

There were penalties.

Financial ones.

Large ones.

My throat went dry.

"These penalties are insane."

"They're there to make sure both parties take the agreement seriously."

I looked at him.

"What happens if I break one of the rules?"

"You pay the penalty."

"And if you break one?"

"I pay yours."

That answer surprised me. At least the contract wasn't entirely one-sided.

I turned to the final page. There was one last clause.

Upon completion or termination of the agreement, both parties shall immediately cease all public representation of their relationship and shall have no further obligation to maintain contact unless mutually agreed upon.

I stared at it for a long time. Something about that sentence made my chest feel strangely heavy. But why? This wasn't a real relationship. There was no reason for me to feel anything. At the end of six months, I would have my money. My debts would be gone. I would graduate. I'd find a proper job.bAnd Tristan Lysander would disappear from my life.bThat was the whole point.

I closed the contract.

"I understand."

Tristan nodded.b"Good."

I pushed the papers back toward him. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes."

I looked at him.

"You need to understand one thing." His expression became more serious. "This arrangement only works if you follow the agreement exactly."

I nodded. "I will."

"No unnecessary drama."

"I won't."

"No leaking information."

"I won't."

"No using my name for personal gain."

I almost laughed. "I already have enough problems of my own. I don't need yours."

For the first time, the corner of his lips moved. Barely. It wasn't quite a smile. But it was close. Then it disappeared.

Tristan reached for the contract. "Your debts will be settled tonight."

I froze. "Tonight?"

"Yes."

"All of them?"

"All of them."

My chest tightened. I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or laugh. For months, I'd been drowning. Tonight, someone was finally pulling me out.

I lowered my head, trying to hide the relief spreading across my face. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet."

I looked up.

Tristan's eyes met mine. "You haven't fulfilled your end of the agreement."

Right. Of course. I almost forgot. This wasn't charity.

It was business.

I forced myself to nod. "Then tell me what I have to do."

Tristan stood. "We'll start tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes." He buttoned his suit jacket. "My mother is hosting a private dinner."

My stomach dropped. "Your mother?"

"She wants to meet you."

I stared at him. The contract suddenly felt much heavier in my hands.

Tomorrow. I had just agreed to become Tristan Lysander's fake girlfriend. And tomorrow, I was going to meet his mother.