Episode Fourteen: Terms
1306 Words
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Too emotionally.
And judging by the look on Damian’s face—
He knew it.
The lounge fell silent again after my outburst.
Sunlight still filled the enormous room, warm and golden against polished floors, but the atmosphere felt heavier now.
Tighter.
Mateo crossed his arms beside me.
“She said no.”
Damian didn’t argue immediately.
He just watched me carefully.
Like he was trying to decide whether pushing harder would break something.
Finally, he spoke quietly.
“I’m asking you to think about it before deciding.”
“I have thought about it.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes,” I snapped. “Amazing observation.”
A faint flicker of irritation crossed his face.
Good.
I was glad at least one thing about him remained human.
“I’m not your enemy, Elena.”
The words landed strangely.
Because weeks ago that would’ve sounded ridiculous.
Now?
Now it sounded complicated.
Dangerously complicated.
I looked away first.
Mistake.
Because every time I avoided his eyes lately, I became hyperaware of everything else.
His voice.
The tension in the room.
How exhausted he always looked beneath the expensive suits.
Annoying.
Mateo stood abruptly.
“I need air before I commit a felony.”
“That’s probably wise,” I muttered.
He pointed at Damian while walking backward toward the door.
“I still don’t trust you.”
“I’m aware.”
Then Mateo disappeared into the hallway.
Coward.
Absolute coward.
Now it was just me and Damian again.
Which somehow felt worse.
The silence stretched.
Not peaceful.
Never peaceful.
Just charged.
Like standing too close to electricity.
Damian loosened his tie slowly.
“I know you think this is manipulation.”
“Because it is.”
“Partially.”
I blinked.
“Partially?”
He looked tired suddenly.
More honest than guarded.
“This situation started as damage control,” he admitted quietly. “I’m not pretending otherwise.”
Well.
That was brutally direct.
“But?” I asked carefully.
His gaze met mine steadily.
“But somewhere along the way, protecting you stopped being part of the strategy.”
The air shifted instantly.
Dangerously.
I stared at him without breathing properly for a second.
Because that—
That sounded personal.
Too personal.
Damian seemed to realize it immediately too.
His expression hardened slightly afterward.
Walls returning.
Too late.
I’d already heard it.
My pulse suddenly felt unreliable.
“This is exactly why people shouldn’t fake relationships,” I muttered weakly.
One corner of his mouth almost moved.
Almost.
“I’ll note that in the contract.”
Contract.
Right.
There it was again.
The reminder that this was still business.
Still fake.
Still insane.
I folded my arms tightly.
“What exactly are your board expecting tonight?”
Damian leaned lightly against the edge of the window.
“Public unity.”
“That sounds dystopian.”
“It’s corporate.”
“Same thing.”
That tiny almost-smile appeared again.
God.
It was unfair how rare it was.
Because every time it appeared, it mattered more.
I hated that.
He continued more seriously.
“They expect us to appear together. Hold a brief press statement. Leave before questions escalate.”
“And if I panic and throw myself into the nearest fountain?”
“Then tomorrow’s headlines become very creative.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
A real laugh this time.
Small.
But real.
Damian looked genuinely startled by it.
Which only made me more suspicious.
“What?”
“You haven’t laughed around me before.”
“Well, congratulations. You’ve unlocked a new level.”
Something softer flickered briefly through his expression.
Gone almost immediately.
Still dangerous.
I rubbed my forehead slowly.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Neither can I.”
“Somehow that’s not comforting.”
Fair.
The room quieted again after that.
Outside the giant windows, the hills stretched endlessly beneath bright afternoon sunlight.
Beautiful.
Calm.
Nothing like the disaster our lives had become.
Then Damian spoke again.
“If you agree to tonight, we establish terms immediately.”
My stomach tightened slightly.
“Terms.”
“Yes.”
“You say that like we’re negotiating a hostage release.”
“In some ways, we are.”
That honesty again.
Always direct.
Always impossible to dismiss completely.
I sat slowly on the edge of the couch.
“Fine.”
Damian straightened slightly.
Not hopeful exactly.
Just focused.
Professional.
“We decide boundaries first.”
“Separate bedrooms stays.”
“Agreed.”
“Absolutely no controlling my family.”
“Never.”
“No interference with my job if I ever somehow get my career back.”
His jaw tightened almost invisibly at that.
Guilt.
Interesting.
“Agreed,” he said quietly.
“And no public affection beyond what’s necessary.”
A pause.
Then—
“Necessary is subjective.”
I stared at him in horror.
“You cannot possibly be flirting right now.”
For the first time since I met him, Damian actually looked caught.
Not fully.
But enough.
“I wasn’t.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I was discussing media expectations.”
“Oh my God.”
A faint flush rose along the back of his neck.
Victory.
Tiny victory.
I pointed at him immediately.
“You’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally look uncomfortable.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Sure.”
The fact that Damian Vale could apparently get flustered should not have been satisfying.
And yet—
Deeply satisfying.
He cleared his throat lightly.
“The media will expect physical familiarity.”
My soul left my body.
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
“They’ll notice distance.”
“I will happily stand six feet away from you.”
“That would create different headlines.”
“Good.”
A flicker of amusement returned briefly.
Then his expression turned serious again.
“The board expects this relationship to appear believable.”
There it was.
The real problem.
Because believable meant intimacy.
Closeness.
Performance.
And somehow pretending to be close to Damian suddenly felt more dangerous than actually disliking him.
I hated that realization immediately.
“You’re overthinking this,” he said quietly.
“I’m absolutely not.”
“You look terrified.”
“I am terrified.”
That startled him slightly.
Good.
Because honesty apparently infected everyone around him eventually.
I looked away toward the windows.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
For several seconds, Damian didn’t respond.
Then more softly than before—
“You won’t do it alone.”
The words settled somewhere deep before I could stop them.
Warm.
Steady.
Dangerous.
I swallowed hard.
“This arrangement is already psychologically damaging.”
“Probably.”
“And your calm acceptance of that is concerning.”
“Also probably.”
God.
How was I supposed to fight with someone who answered like this?
A knock interrupted before my dignity could deteriorate further.
Mrs. Greene entered carefully.
“Mr. Vale,” she said gently, “your grandmother has arrived.”
Every trace of softness disappeared from Damian instantly.
Cold.
Controlled.
Untouchable.
The transformation happened so fast it genuinely startled me.
Mrs. Greene noticed too.
Her expression tightened slightly with concern.
“I’ll be downstairs shortly,” Damian said calmly.
The second she left, silence returned.
But now it felt different.
Tense.
Heavy.
I frowned slowly.
“You hate her.”
Damian’s eyes shifted toward me immediately.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
For a moment neither of us moved.
Then quietly—
“She built this company from nothing.”
“That doesn’t sound like hate.”
His gaze drifted briefly toward the closed door.
“It sounds like obligation.”
And somehow—
That sounded worse.
- Writer
