Episode Ten: Negotiation
1445 Words
I should have slept.
Instead, I spent half the night staring at a ceiling that probably cost more than my yearly salary.
Rules.
The word stayed trapped in my head until morning.
Because rules meant structure.
Structure meant agreement.
And agreement meant this insane situation was becoming real.
By eight o’clock, I was already exhausted again.
Mrs. Greene had somehow prepared breakfast that looked like it belonged in a luxury magazine.
Fresh fruit.
Pastries.
Coffee that smelled expensive.
Mateo sat at the dining table looking deeply suspicious of everything.
“I don’t trust rich people food,” he announced while staring at a croissant.
“You ate three already,” I pointed out.
“That’s unrelated.”
Mom smiled faintly for the first time in days.
The sight hit me harder than expected.
God.
I missed seeing her smile.
Even a small one.
The dining room itself was absurdly beautiful.
Sunlight poured through massive windows overlooking green hills outside.
The storm from last night had disappeared completely, leaving everything bright and painfully peaceful.
It didn’t match the chaos sitting in my chest.
Footsteps echoed softly behind us.
Damian entered wearing a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms.
More relaxed than usual.
Still unfairly attractive.
Unfortunately.
Mateo immediately stopped chewing.
Like prey sensing danger.
Damian noticed the tension instantly but ignored it.
“Mrs. Reyes,” he greeted politely.
Mom nodded.
“Good morning.”
Then his attention shifted toward me.
And lingered half a second too long.
“You slept?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“That sounded dangerously close to concern.”
“You look tired.”
“I am tired.”
“Reasonable.”
That tiny almost-smile appeared again.
Quick.
Gone immediately.
Still irritating.
Damian took the seat across from me while a staff member quietly poured coffee for him.
I stared at the interaction.
“You know people normally pour their own coffee, right?”
“Probably.”
“But not you?”
“I didn’t ask her to.”
The staff member betrayed him instantly.
“You absolutely did, sir.”
Mateo choked laughing.
To my complete shock, Damian actually looked mildly offended.
Mrs. Greene entered before he could defend himself.
“Your grandmother is waiting in the study, Mr. Vale.”
Every trace of amusement vanished from Damian’s face.
Instantly.
Business mode again.
Cold.
Controlled.
“Thank you.”
I watched the shift carefully.
Interesting.
Vivian Vale clearly affected him more than he admitted.
Damian stood slowly.
“The board meeting starts in an hour.”
Mom frowned slightly.
“You work very fast.”
“It’s easier when millions are disappearing.”
Normal people problems truly did not exist in this family.
Damian looked directly at me.
“We need to talk before then.”
The air shifted immediately.
Mateo straightened in his chair.
“I’m staying.”
“You weren’t invited,” Damian replied calmly.
“I don’t care.”
“Elena can decide for herself.”
I sighed heavily.
“Please don’t turn breakfast into a territorial dispute.”
Too late.
The tension between them already felt ridiculous.
Damian looked calm.
Mateo looked one inconvenience away from violence.
And somehow I was stuck between them.
Story of my life lately.
“I’ll be fine,” I told Mateo quietly.
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t know these people.”
Neither did I.
Not really.
But weirdly—
I was beginning to understand Damian a little.
Which honestly felt more dangerous than not understanding him at all.
The study looked exactly how a billionaire’s study should look.
Dark shelves.
Massive desk.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
The scent of expensive books and coffee.
Everything screamed power.
I stood awkwardly near the center of the room while Damian closed the door behind us.
The soft click echoed louder than it should have.
Then silence.
Again.
Apparently silence was becoming our thing.
Damian walked toward the desk slowly.
“No lawyers yet,” he said.
I blinked.
“Yet?”
“I thought we should discuss this privately first.”
That surprised me.
“You want my opinion?”
“I want honesty.”
“That sounds risky.”
“It probably is.”
I folded my arms tightly.
“Okay. Honest answer?”
Damian leaned lightly against the desk.
“Yes.”
“I still think this entire situation is insane.”
“Fair.”
“I think your family is trying to buy my life.”
A pause.
“Also fair.”
“And I think pretending to fall in love for corporate damage control is deeply disturbing.”
“That one might actually be objectively true.”
I stared at him suspiciously.
“You agree with me a lot for someone proposing fake marriage.”
“I’m not proposing it.”
“You’re participating in it.”
Something unreadable crossed his face.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
“He’s right,” I realized suddenly.
Damian’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“Who?”
“Mateo.” I shook my head slowly. “You don’t actually want this.”
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
Then—
“No.”
The honesty landed differently this time.
He looked tired again.
Not cold.
Not arrogant.
Just trapped.
Like me.
I hated how much that complicated things.
“So why are you still doing it?”
Damian looked toward the windows briefly.
“The company employs over forty thousand people.”
I blinked.
That number alone felt impossible.
“If the board loses confidence in leadership,” he continued calmly, “everything destabilizes. Investors panic. Projects freeze. People lose jobs.”
The weight of that settled heavily between us.
Because suddenly this wasn’t just about rich people protecting their image anymore.
There were actual consequences.
Real employees.
Real lives.
And somehow I’d gotten tangled inside all of it.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I whispered.
“I know.”
That answer again.
Always softest when he meant it most.
I rubbed my forehead tiredly.
“So what exactly are these rules?”
Damian straightened slightly.
Professional now.
Controlled.
Like discussing business was easier than discussing feelings.
Probably true.
“We’d announce a relationship first,” he explained. “Marriage later if necessary.”
“If necessary?”
“The public prefers escalation over sudden announcements.”
I stared at him.
“You sound like you’ve studied human beings in a laboratory.”
“I’ve worked in media management since I was twenty-three.”
“That explains so much.”
A faint breath of amusement escaped him again.
Tiny victory.
Then he continued.
“There would be boundaries.”
“Meaning?”
“No interference with your family. No restrictions on your career once this situation stabilizes. Separate bedrooms.”
That last one startled me enough to laugh.
Damian looked mildly alarmed.
“What’s funny?”
“You said that very quickly.”
His expression stayed perfectly straight.
“I thought clarity would comfort you.”
“It did, actually.”
Good.
Because sleeping beside Damian every night sounded like psychological warfare.
He continued carefully.
“You would receive full financial protection during the contract period.”
“There it is.”
The billionaire clause.
Money.
Always money.
His expression hardened slightly.
“I know how that sounds.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Silence stretched briefly.
Then Damian said something unexpected.
“You can refuse.”
I looked up immediately.
He held my gaze steadily.
“No pressure. No retaliation. If you walk away now, I’ll still make sure your family is protected from the media.”
I searched his face carefully.
Looking for manipulation.
Strategy.
Calculation.
But all I found was exhaustion.
And sincerity.
Which somehow felt worse.
Because if he’d been cruel, this would’ve been easier.
Instead, Damian Vale kept becoming painfully human at the worst possible moments.
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
I looked away first.
Big mistake.
Because the second silence returned, I became hyperaware of everything.
The sunlight through the windows.
His voice.
How close we were standing.
How tired he looked.
How unfairly safe this room felt after the chaos outside.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Then a sharp knock interrupted the moment.
The door opened before either of us answered.
An older man in a suit stepped inside quickly.
“Mr. Vale, the board meeting has been moved forward.”
Damian’s expression immediately cooled.
“Why?”
The man hesitated.
And suddenly looked uncomfortable.
My stomach tightened instantly.
“What happened?” Damian asked sharply.
The man swallowed hard.
“There’s another leak.”
The room went completely still.
Then he added quietly—
“The media found the transplant donor application.”
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