The Contract He Regrets

Chapter One The Blackwood Tower lobby smelled like money and cold marble. Claire hated both. She’d worn her only black dress. It was two years old and too tight at the ribs. Her hands shook anyway. Not from fear. From anger. “Miss Whitaker.” His assistant didn’t smile. “Mr. Blackwood will see you now.” Damien’s office took up the entire 80th floor. Floor to ceiling glass. City spread out below like he owned it. He probably did. He stood with his back to her, looking out. Black suit. No wedding ring. Yet. He didn’t turn when the door closed. “You’re late.” “Your driver was late.” Claire dropped her bag on the chair. Too loud. She didn’t care. “Let’s do this.” Now he turned. Grey eyes, sharp enough to cut. He looked at her like she was a problem in his spreadsheet. “Twelve million dollars. Your father’s debt. My capital. You understand what you’re signing?” “I understand my sister dies without that trial.” She met his eyes. “So sign the paper, Mr. Blackwood.” He slid the contract across the desk. Fifty pages. One year. Her signature at the bottom next to his. He picked up a pen. Ice in his eyes, just like the rumors said. “Three rules, Mrs. Blackwood. Since we’ll be married.” Claire flinched at the title. “What rules.” “One, no touching.” He signed his name with a hard stroke. “Two, no personal questions. Three, no pretending this is love. Not in public, not in private.” The pen clicked when he set it down. Final. Clara stared at the line with her name. Lily’s hospital bill flashed in her head. The doctor’s voice. Without this trial, we’re out of options. She signed. Claire Whitaker. The ink looked too permanent. Damien slid a keycard across the desk. “Penthouse key. East wing is yours. West wing is mine. Staff has instructions. Try not to burn the place down.” Claire took the card. Her fingers brushed his. He pulled back like she burned him. Rule one, already tested. “One question,” she said before she could stop herself. His jaw ticked. Rule two. “Why me? You could’ve bought any debt. Any girl.” Damien picked up the contract. Her father’s signature was on the last page too, from the original loan. He tapped it once. “Because your family owes mine a debt that money can’t pay. Consider this interest.” He walked to the door and held it open. Dismissed. Claire stood. One year. Separate wings. Zero feelings. She made it three steps into the hallway before her phone buzzed. Hospital number. Miss Whitaker, we need your decision on Lily’s trial by 5pm today. The slot expires. Claire looked at the keycard. Then at Damien’s back. She was terrible at following rules. And he was about to find out.