Chapter 2
1556 Words
The Contract
The conference room was colder than usual, though Aidan doubted it had anything to do with the AC. It was her. Seraphina Moretti sat across the table, flawless in a navy silk blouse that shimmered like oil under the lights, her emerald eyes unreadable.
Aidan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, studying her like one of those equations he never had the patience to solve in high school. She didn’t fidget. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even sip the untouched espresso beside her.
Her lawyer, a stiff man in a charcoal suit, slid a file across the table. “This is the final draft. The marriage contract.”
Aidan stared at it. Neat paper. Expensive pen. Legal words are trying to wrap up a storm.
“Clause one,” the man began. “The marriage will last a minimum of twelve months. Appearances must be maintained at galas, interviews, and dinners. Public affection when necessary.”
Aidan smirked. “So you’re hiring me to be your golden retriever in front of cameras?”
“No,” Seraphina said at last. Her voice was low, smooth, and dangerous. “I’m hiring you to be my husband. Not a fool. If you can’t tell the difference, walk now.”
The room thickened. Aidan didn’t flinch.
He leaned forward. “And what do you get out of this… princess?”
“Freedom,” she said coolly. “And a seat at the board my father’s kept just out of reach.”
“Ah…Daddy’s little girl wants power.”
“No. Daddy’s little girl wants it all. And I don’t have time to babysit your pride.”
Her words slid under his skin like ice into boiling water. He flipped the contract open. The monthly stipend was generous. Apartment shared. Infidelity forbidden. Public image was everything.
“No s*x?” he asked.
The lawyer cleared his throat. “Optional. Not required.”
Aidan’s eyes flicked to Seraphina. “That’s disappointing.”
Her mouth curved slightly, not a smile warning. “Sign it. Or walk away.”
He thought of his sister’s hospital bills. Of eviction notices. Of nights on cold floors. He picked up the pen. “Got a favorite side of the bed, wifey?”
He signed.
Later that evening, the penthouse was a glass box of wealthy floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek furniture, and art too abstract to be beautiful. Aidan wandered through the living room, jeans too rough for the place, calloused fingers trailing over polished surfaces.
Seraphina stood on the balcony, phone to her ear, her voice clipped and businesslike. Sunset painted her in a firelight, but her eyes were ice.
He stepped out beside her. “You’re always charming during business calls?”
“Only when I want things done properly.”
“Can’t wait to see how you’ll be in bed then.”
She turned, slowly. “Touch me without permission and I’ll break your fingers.”
Aidan chuckled. “So we’re already doing threats? You know how to make a guy feel married.”
“We’re not married here. Only out there.”
“Understood. But tell me one thing… Why me?”
“Because you’re not like them.”
“Who?”
“The men my father sends. The ones who beg, obey, or betray.”
“So I’m the rebel pick?”
“No. You’re the last resort.”
She walked inside, sliding the glass door shut. Aidan stayed on the balcony, watching the LA skyline shimmer like lies under starlight. So this was marriage. Let the games begin.
The Moretti estate was silent, the kind of silence that didn’t feel like peace, but like something waiting to snap.
Aidan sprawled on the velvet couch, jaw clenched as he flipped through channels. Then he heard the sharp staccato of heels against marble.
Seraphina descended the staircase like a verdict, not a woman. Black satin hugged her curves, a slit riding dangerously high. Emerald earrings glinted in the fading light.
“You’re not dressed,” she said flatly, her gaze raking over his hoodie and jeans.
He smirked. “You’re early. Or I’m fashionably uninterested.”
She dropped a black garment bag on the table. “Tom Ford. Tailored. Wear it. Or stay home and explain to my father why his newest son-in-law thinks sweatpants are gala attire.”
He arched his brow. “So we’re already playing dress-up for Daddy?”
“You signed up for this. Appearances are everything. Tonight, we make them believe.”
“Believe what? That the ice queen and the stray dog fell in love overnight?”
“You don’t need to act like you love me, Aidan. Just don’t act like you hate me.”
“Hate’s a strong word. But let’s say I’m not sending flowers anytime soon.”
“Good. Love looks suspicious on people like us anyway.”
The Rolls-Royce glided through LA streets. Seraphina sat poised, face unreadable. Aidan fidgeted in the tux she’d forced on him.
“So what’s tonight?” he asked. “A fundraiser? Ritual sacrifice?”
“It’s a charity gala.”
“Ah. Rich people pretending to save the world.”
She finally turned, emerald eyes sharp. “Don’t speak unless spoken to. Smile when cameras flash. And stop slouching.”
Aidan gave a mocking salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You may hate this, but this is my life. And tonight, you’re part of it.”
“I don’t hate it. I hate pretending.”
“Then lie better. Out there, truth is currency and we don’t have enough to afford it.”
The car pulled to a stop. Paparazzi swarmed outside the velvet ropes.
“Still time to run,” Aidan muttered.
“Get out. Don’t stumble.”
She emerged first, a goddess under camera flashes. The crowd hushed. Seraphina Moretti owned the night. Aidan followed, blinking against the light.
She slid her hand into his arm. To the world, they looked perfect: the icy heiress and the sharp-eyed stranger with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.
“They love you already,” she whispered.
“I feel like a zoo animal.”
“Then bare your teeth and look expensive.”
Cameras clicked.
“Aidan! Seraphina! Over here!”
“How does it feel to be newlyweds?”
“Is it true it was a whirlwind romance?”
Seraphina tilted her face up, lips brushing his ear. From a distance, it looked intimate. “Smile. And if anyone asks, you met me in Milan.”
“What if I tell them I met you in hell?” he murmured.
“Then at least make it sound romantic.”
Inside, chandeliers glittered above a ballroom dripping with wealth. Power hung in the air like perfume.
Aidan felt the stares immediately.
“Is that him?”
“The husband?”
Seraphina was flawless in performance mode, gracious but untouchable. Aidan, in contrast, looked like he’d been dropped into the wrong world.
A voice cut through the noise. “Aidan?”
He froze. The glass paused halfway to his lips. A woman approached—tall, graceful, in a satin blue gown. Honey-brown hair in a bun. A smile too familiar.
“Claire,” he said.
Her eyes flicked to Seraphina. “And you must be… Seraphina.”
The air shifted. Seraphina’s armor clicked tighter. Before she could respond, another presence stole the room.
Don Vincenzo Moretti.
Silver hair, steel-gray eyes, and the kind of authority that bent air. In a room full of power brokers, he was the power.
“Father,” Seraphina said, chin high.
Aidan straightened. The Don’s gaze sliced through him.
“You must be the husband. Aidan Cole.”
“Yes, sir.” Aidan extended a hand.
The Don didn’t take it. Instead, he smiled a quiet, dangerous smile. “How does it feel, Mr. Cole, to dine where kings once bled?”
Aidan met his eyes. “Depends on who’s serving the wine.”
Silence. Then a chuckle.
“Well. At least you’re not spineless.”
Seraphina gripped Aidan’s arm. “We were just enjoying the gala.”
The Don looked her over. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I’m managing.”
“And him? Is he managing you?”
“I’m not here to manage her,” Aidan said evenly. “Just walk beside her.”
The Don studied him, then nodded. Barely. “Do not disappoint me, Seraphina. One broken alliance is enough for this family.”
He left, but the chill lingered.
“You handled that well,” Seraphina murmured.
“That was the handling?”
“If he doesn’t hate you outright, you’re already ahead.”
The limo ride back was silent but charged.
Seraphina stared out the window, lights blurring past. “That girl back there. Claire. She rattled you.”
“No more than your father rattling you.”
They sat in honesty.
“Next time,” Seraphina said, “if someone like her shows up, tell me beforehand.”
“Would it have changed anything?”
“No. But I would’ve worn a sharper smile.”
He watched her. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Neither are you.”
The car rolled into the mansion gates. They played well tonight. But games have rules. And someone was bound to break them soon.
- Writer
