chapter 8
1024 Words
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_CHAPTER 8: THE CONTRACT NIGHT_
The penthouse was too quiet.
Amelia stood barefoot on the cold marble floor with a garment bag over her arm and her heart in her throat.
The dress for tomorrow’s ring fitting hung inside. Silk. Ivory. $4,000. The tag was still on.
She’d been in this house for 3 hours and hadn’t seen Luca once.
A note on the kitchen island in sharp, black ink:
_Dinner at 8. My mother arrives 10am tomorrow. Don’t be late. - L_
That was it. No “welcome home.” No “are you okay.”
Just rules.
_7:55PM_
She changed into the only nice thing she owned. A navy wrap dress from H&M. $40.
She looked at herself in the mirror of the guest room that was now “hers.”
Big bed. White sheets. No photos. No mess.
It didn’t feel like a room. It felt like a hotel.
Downstairs, Luca was already there.
Black shirt. Sleeves rolled to the elbows. No tie.
He was pouring wine. Two glasses.
He didn’t look up when she walked in.
“You’re 5 minutes early.”
“I didn’t want to be late.”
“Good.”
He slid a glass to her.
“Dinner is being delivered. We’re not cooking.”
“Okay.”
The silence was louder than the city 80 floors below.
_THE CONTRACT ON THE TABLE_
Between them, on the coffee table, was the same folder from this morning.
12 pages. Her signature on page 12.
Luca tapped it once.
“We should go over it again. Out loud.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to be sure you understood every word.”
Amelia sat.
He didn’t. He stood by the window, back to her.
“Clause 4.2,” he said. “Public appearances. Galas, dinners, press. You attend as my wife.”
“I read it.”
“Say it.”
“I... I will attend all public events as Mrs. Cole.”
“Clause 5.1.”
“No physical intimacy beyond what is required for public appearances.”
“And what does that mean to you?”
Amelia’s cheeks burned. “Hand holding. Arm around me. For photos.”
“Correct.”
He finally turned.
“Clause 8.3. Either party may terminate with 30 days notice and full payout of $2,000,000.”
“So I can leave?”
“So we can leave,” he corrected. “If this becomes untenable.”
The word _untenable_ made her stomach twist.
“Why are you doing this again?” she asked. Quiet.
Luca took a sip of wine. “My board thinks I’m unstable. My ex-fiancée is selling a book. My mother is threatening to pull funding from the foundation. A wife fixes all of that.”
“And I’m the cheapest option?”
“You’re the safest option,” he said. “No history. No leverage on me.”
Ouch.
The doorbell rang. Dinner.
They ate at the dining table. Salmon. Asparagus. Bread she didn’t touch.
Luca ate like it was fuel. Efficient.
Amelia pushed food around her plate.
“You can talk,” he said.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything. So my mother doesn’t think I married a mute.”
Amelia laughed. It came out shaky.
“My mom is in St. Mary’s. Room 204. She has stage 2. The treatment is working.”
Luca paused mid-bite. “I know.”
“Of course you do.”
“I had someone check. To make sure the hospital wouldn’t drop her.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s in the contract. Clause 9.1. Medical care for immediate family will be maintained.”
She hated that he was kind and cruel in the same sentence.
_10PM. HIS MOTHER._
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
Text: _Victoria Cole. Landing 10am. I expect to meet my daughter-in-law._
Amelia showed Luca.
“She’s... direct,” Amelia said.
“She’s worse in person,” Luca said. “Ice. Chanel. Judgment.”
“Great.”
“You’ll be fine. Just smile. Don’t argue.”
“What if she asks why we got married so fast?”
“We eloped. In Vegas. Romantic.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It’s the story.”
He looked at her then. Really looked.
“You don’t have to be scared of her.”
“I’m not scared. I’m tired.”
Something in his face softened. For half a second.
“Go to bed, Amelia. Big day tomorrow.”
_11:30PM. HER ROOM._
She couldn’t sleep.
She opened the contract again.
Clause 5.1 stared at her. _No physical intimacy._
Clause 4.2. _Attend all events._
Clause 9.1. _Medical care maintained._
Her phone lit up.
Mom: _Baby? Did you get my message? The nurse said the bill is paid. What happened?_
Amelia typed: _I got a new job. Really good one. I’ll explain later. Love you._
She hit send before she could cry.
A knock. Soft.
Luca. In sweatpants and a t-shirt. Hair messy.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked.
“Nightmares,” he said.
“Oh.”
“I’m not here for that. I’m here to give you this.”
He handed her a small box. Black velvet.
Inside: a ring. Platinum. One big diamond. Simple. Cold.
“It’s 3 carats. It photographs well,” he said.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Tomorrow. 10am. Cartier. For the fitting photos.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t leave.
He stood in her doorway.
“Are you regretting it yet?”
Amelia thought about the hospital bill. About her mom’s smile on FaceTime yesterday.
“No,” she said. “Not yet.”
Luca nodded once.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Cole.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Cole.”
He walked away.
Amelia closed the door.
Slid the ring on.
It was heavy.
And it didn’t feel like hers.
_THE LAST THOUGHT BEFORE SLEEP_
12 months.
365 days.
8,760 hours.
She could do this.
For her mom.
For $2,000,000.
For a future.
Even if the man she was married to looked at her like she was a contract he had to honor.
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