Chapter 2: Sign the Contract
1273 Words
"You are to play the role of my doting fiancée for exactly 365 days."
Ciara stared at the document, her heart stopping. "A contract marriage?" She scrunched up her face. "Why me?"
"Because you're sharp enough to survive, my family, and desperate enough to need my protection," Alexandier said, leaning closer until he towered over her once more. "But let me make one thing entirely clear. This is a transaction. There will be no romance. No feelings. And absolutely no touching unless the need arises. Do we have a deal?"
Ciara looked at the contract, then up into the mesmerizing, icy depths of his eyes. She picked up the heavy gold pen resting on the desk and smacked him on the head with it.
Alexandier swiftly stepped back, instinctively rubbing the spot she had smacked. Genuine surprise flashed across his face, as though he couldn't believe she had actually hit him. Just as quickly, the surprise melted into intrigue.
Ciara laughed, a heartfelt laugh, a teardrop forming at the corner of her eye. "You must be joking."
He raised an eyebrow. "You think this is funny?"
She picked up the contract and waved it. "Where's the camera?" She stood up, turning her head from side to side as she looked for the invisible camera. "Is this your way of trying to know more about your employee?" She shook her head. "Sorry, your ex-employee? Mr. Sterling, if you think I'm desperate enough to sell myself because you waved money in my face... then you're not nearly as smart as people say."
She picked up the contract, tore it in half, and walked toward the door.
Alexandier didn't get angry. Instead, he smirked—a cruel, satisfied smirk.
"Six million," he said.
She didn't stop.
"Ten."
She rolled her eyes and continued walking.
Then he blurted, "Your father's surgery begins in nine hours."
That did it. She froze.
Her hazel eyes snapped toward him before the rest of her body followed. Her heartbeat became loud in her ears.
"How do you know that?" she whispered.
Alexandier answered calmly, "Because I never negotiate without knowing everything."
"'No touching,' you say?" she echoed, forcing a witty, sarcastic smirk onto her lips despite the shock she had just received. "Don't worry, Mr. Sterling. I don't like playing with blocks of ice anyway. But... I need time."
Alexandier sighed, strangely relieved. "Very well. Take five hours from those nine. I'll see to it that your father's surgery begins immediately."
She nodded and pointed an index finger toward the torn contract. "Sorry about your paper. Must've been expensive."
Alexandier's gaze followed her finger to the torn contract before he lifted a brow.
"Not an issue."
Before she could turn to take her leave, the office landline buzzed sharply. Marcus's voice cut through the speaker.
"Sir, Vivienne Vince has bypassed lobby security. She's coming up the private elevator right now. She demands to see you."
Alexandier's jaw tightened into a rigid, dangerous line. He looked at Ciara, then at the torn and unsigned contract on the polished floor. Secrecy was his greatest weapon; no one should know this arrangement was fake.
If Vivienne saw Ciara leaving the office on her own, she'd investigate.
Without asking, he simply placed his arm around Ciara's waist.
Ciara froze. She looked at him.
He quietly whispered, "Play along."
Alexandier gently pulled her toward the exit. He didn't want Vivienne inside his private sanctuary. As they stepped out into the dimly lit private penthouse corridor, the elevator doors slid open. Vivienne stepped out, dripping in diamonds and smelling of suffocatingly expensive perfume.
But she stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping.
Alexandier's large, powerful hand was firmly wrapped around Ciara's waist as he guided her out of the room.
Vivienne stood there in shock. How was it that the untouchable, icy billionaire was holding this strange woman so incredibly close?
"Alexandier!" Vivienne shrieked, her voice echoing off the marble walls of the corridor. "What is the meaning of this? Why do you have your hands on her waist?"
Alexandier didn't let go. If anything, his grip tightened, anchoring Ciara to his side as he looked down at Vivienne with pure, intimidating frost.
"Vivienne. You were banned from this property. Why are you here?"
Vivienne ignored his question, her tear-filled, jealous eyes darting straight to Ciara's cheap dress.
"Who is this lady looking like a total low-life? Alexandier, don't tell me you're associating with trash like this now!"
Ciara, who had been quietly trying to process the chaos, snapped. Nobody called her trash, especially not a woman who looked like a walking department store mannequin.
She knew just the trick to deal with her. Leaning back slightly against Alexandier's broad chest, she crossed her arms and looked Vivienne up and down with an amused, razor-sharp smirk.
"Listen here, Barbie," she said, her sharp mouth moving with flawless, biting confidence. "First, his hands are on my waist because he actually has taste. Like, real taste. And the only fake thing here is your nose. Second, if I'm a low-life, at least I didn't get dragged out of a corporate gala by security like a frantic toddler. Now, why don't you take your diamonds and your tantrums back down the elevator before you embarrass yourself any further? Barbie."
Vivienne gasped so hard she practically choked on her own saliva.
"You—you insolent little b***h! Alexandier, are you going to let this nobody talk to me like that? She's obviously a nobody, a wannabe. She's a... she's a liability!"
"She is entirely right, Vivienne," Alexandier said. His baritone voice was smooth and utterly terrifying.
He finally released Ciara's waist and stepped forward, shielding her completely with his massive frame.
"If you do not step back into that elevator in three seconds, I will ensure your family's remaining assets are shorted before the market opens tomorrow morning."
His icy gaze never left hers. "Now. Get. Out."
The absolute authority in his voice left no room for argument. Terrified and deeply humiliated, Vivienne scrambled back into the elevator, the doors sliding shut on her furious face.
The corridor fell silent.
Ciara took a deep breath, her heart hammering. She looked at Alexandier's cold, imposing back. She was exhausted, her father was still in the hospital, and she had just insulted one of the city's most powerful socialites.
Of course she knew who Vivienne was. Who didn't? Her family was well-renowned and powerful.
She needed a moment to think, away from this overwhelming billionaire and his cuckoo associate.
Was coming here a mistake? No, of course not. She had what she came here for, and that was all that mattered.
"Well, Mr. Sterling," she finally said, smoothing down her emerald gown and regaining her witty composure. "That was thrilling. But I don't sign contracts when I'm being threatened by high-society plastic dolls. I'm going home. If your ten-million-dollar offer still stands, your assistant knows my number. Since he was able to find information about me, I'm certain my number won't be an issue."
Without waiting for his permission, Ciara turned on her heel and walked toward the staff exit stairs, her head held high.
Alexandier didn't stop her. He watched her retreating figure, a dark, genuinely intrigued smirk breaking through his icy expression.
Once again.
"Marcus," Alexandier murmured into his earpiece.
"Yes, sir?"
"Send a private car to follow her home. And have the contract delivered to her doorstep by 8:00 a.m. tomorrow."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"She's going to sign it." His gaze lingered on the now-empty stairwell.
"She just doesn't know it yet."
- Writer
