Chapter 4 – Signing on the Dotted Line
1123 Words
mary stared at the phone screen. Her name was everywhere now. mary Vasquez.” Not just a random artist anymore. The headline called her “the mystery woman who tamed the Dark Tycoon.” There were already comments. Hundreds. Some called her a gold-digger. Others said she looked too innocent to handle Damian Blackwood. A few even posted old photos of her from art school exhibitions.
Her hands felt cold. She pushed the phone back toward Damian.
They found me so fast,” she whispered
Damian’s voice stayed calm. “Victoria has friends in low places. She wanted this to happen. She wants you scared.
mary looked up at him. “And you? Are you scared?”
He didn’t answer right away. He just watched her, like he was trying to read every thought in her head.
No,” he finally said. “But I’m not the one who’s going to get hurt the most if this falls apart.”
The words landed heavy between them
mary picked up the pen again. The contract waited. Black ink. White paper. Six months of her life traded for Rosa’s safety and a future without debt.
She thought about her grandmother’s tired smile. The way Rosa still hummed old songs while watering the roses, even when the house felt too cold. She thought about the nights she painted until her fingers cramped, trying to sell enough pieces to keep the lights on.
Two million dollars. A clean start.
She pressed the pen to the paper
Her name flowed out in careful letters: mary Vasquez.
Then the date.
Then her signature
Done.
Damian didn’t smile. He just took the contract, added his own sharp signature next to hers, and closed the folder with a soft snap.
It’s official,” he said. “You’re my fiancée. Starting tonight.”“Tonight?''
mary’s voice came out higher than she wanted.
He nodded. “The story is already out. We can’t look like we’re hiding. You move in now. My driver is waiting downstairs.”
mary felt the floor tilt a little. “I need to pack. Call Rosa. Get my things
Already handled,” Damian cut in. “My team picked up what you need from your apartment an hour ago. Clothes, art supplies, personal items. Everything is at the penthouse. Rosa knows you’re safe. I sent someone to explain you’re staying with a friend for a while. She thinks it’s a big art commission.
mary’s mouth opened, then closed. “You went into my apartment?”
I had permission,” he said. “Your landlord let them in after I paid three months’ rent in advance. In cash.”
She stared at him. He had moved so fast. Like he knew she would say yes.
Maybe he did.
Damian walked to the door and held it open. “Let’s go. The longer we stay here, the more time the press has to camp outside.
mary stood on shaky legs. She followed him through the quiet hallway, past the empty reception desk, down in the private elevator that didn’t stop on any other floors.
When the doors opened in the underground garage, a sleek black car waited. The driver a tall man in a dark suit opened the back door without a word.
mary slid inside. Damian followed. The leather seats were cool against her skin. The car smelled like money and new things.
They didn’t speak during the drive. City lights flashed past the tinted windows. mary kept her hands folded tight in her lap.
The building was taller than she expected. Glass and steel. No name on the front just a small gold “B” above the doors.
Security nodded at Damian as they walked through the lobby. No questions. No ID check. The elevator went straight up. No stops.
When the doors opened, mary stepped into a world that didn’t feel real.
The penthouse was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the whole city sparkling below. Dark wood floors. Black furniture. A grand piano in one corner that looked like no one ever played it. Modern art on the walls pieces she recognized from famous galleries.
And flowers. Red roses everywhere. On the table. On the counter. Even floating in a bowl of water by the door
She turned to Damian. “You did this?”
He shook his head. “My assistant. She thought it would look romantic for the photos tomorrow.”
“Photos?”
Morning walk of shame or engagement glow, depending on the headline. We’ll be seen leaving together. Holding hands. Smiling.”
mary felt her stomach twist again.
Damian loosened his tie. “Your room is down the hall. Second door. It has its own bathroom, balcony, everything you need. My room is on the other side. We don’t share. Ever. That’s in the contract too.”
She nodded, numb.
He stepped closer. Not touching. Just close enough that she could smell his cologne something dark and expensive.“
One more thing,” he said quietly. “Tonight, you sleep here. Tomorrow, the world starts watching. So get used to me being close. In public, I’ll touch you. Hold your hand. Kiss your cheek. Maybe more, if the moment needs it. You have to act like you want it.”
mary’s breath caught. “And in private?”
In private,” he said, “we’re strangers who made a deal. Nothing more.”
He turned away, heading toward a hallway on the left. “Good night, mary
She watched him disappear.
The penthouse felt too quiet after he was gone.
She walked to her room. It was beautiful. Soft gray walls. A huge bed with white sheets. Her suitcase sat open on a bench someone had already unpacked her clothes into the closet.
On the nightstand was a single rose. A note beside it.
In Damian’s handwriting:
Welcome home,fiancée.She picked up the rose.
The thorns pricked her finger. A tiny drop of blood appeared.
She sucked on the small wound, staring at the city lights outside.
This was her life now.
Six months.
One man.
One big lie.
She climbed into the bed. The sheets
were cool and smelled faintly of him.
She closed her eyes.
But sleep didn’t come easy.
Because somewhere in the dark penthouse, she heard a phone ring.
Damian’s low voice answered.
She couldn’t hear the words clearly.
They found the old police report. About the fire. And they know she was there that night.”
mary sat up fast
Who was “she”?
And what fire?
Her heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it through the walls.
The call ended.
Footsteps came down the hall.
Toward her door.
To be continued......
- Writer
