Terms Of Us

Chapter 2

DAMIAN BLACKWOOD'S POV

I had met difficult people.

Men who would rather lose millions than admit they were wrong. Women who could smile beautifully while negotiating the destruction of an entire business empire. Investors who believed shouting was a substitute for intelligence.

But Isabella Vance was something else.

She had walked into my office, challenged my financial assessment, questioned my judgement and left after informing me that I needed to take a woman to dinner before proposing marriage.

I found that particularly amusing.

I sat behind my desk, looking at the empty chair she had occupied barely twenty minutes earlier.

"Interesting woman."

My assistant, Rebecca, stood near the door.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Nothing."

She nodded, wisely deciding not to investigate.

"Your eleven o'clock meeting has been moved to Thursday."

"Fine."

"And your brother is here."

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

"Send him in."

The door opened almost immediately.

Sebastian Blackwood entered wearing an expensive watch, an unnecessarily cheerful expression and the confidence of a man who had never experienced consequences.

"Good morning, brother."

"What do you want?"

He dropped into the chair opposite me.

"Affection. Money. Perhaps a little appreciation."

"Choose one."

"Money."

I returned my attention to my laptop.

Sebastian laughed.

"Rebecca told me you had a meeting with Isabella Vance."

I stopped typing.

"Rebecca talks too much."

"Apparently, you proposed marriage."

I slowly lifted my eyes.

"Does everyone in this building have a problem with minding their business?"

"Not when the business is this entertaining."

He leaned forward.

"Seriously, Damian. Marriage?"

"Yes."

"To Isabella Vance?"

"Are there other Isabella Vances I'm unaware of?"

Sebastian grinned.

"You're marrying a stranger."

"It's a business arrangement."

"That's what makes it worse. At least pretend there's romance involved."

I gave him a look.

He raised both hands.

"Alright. I'm leaving. But I want to meet my future sister-in-law."

"Get out."

He laughed all the way to the door.

I watched him leave before returning to the financial report on my desk.

Unfortunately, he wasn't entirely wrong.

Marriage was not something I had ever considered necessary.

I had watched my parents spend years maintaining a respectable marriage while quietly resenting each other. My father had loved his reputation more than his family, and my mother had eventually learned to live comfortably within the distance between them.

I had no interest in repeating their mistakes.

But business was different.

Business required decisions that were occasionally unpleasant.

And the Vances were exactly what Blackwood Global needed.

My phone rang shortly before noon.

MOTHER.

I answered.

"Good afternoon."

"Damian, your brother tells me you've decided to get married."

I leaned back.

Sebastian was going to die.

"That boy needs a hobby."

My mother laughed softly.

"Is it true?"

"Yes."

"To Isabella Vance?"

"Yes."

A brief silence followed.

"Have you met her?"

"This morning."

"Damian."

"What?"

"You're marrying a woman you've known for less than an hour."

"Mother, I assure you, I'm aware of the circumstances."

She sighed.

"Your father would have found this very amusing."

I looked towards the window.

My father had been dead for four years, but his influence remained everywhere. In the company, in the family, in the expectations that followed my surname.

"Father isn't here to have an opinion."

"No," she said quietly. "He isn't."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then she asked, "Do you like her?"

I considered the question.

I remembered Isabella's expression when I questioned her company's finances. The way she had defended her work without once attempting to appeal to my ego.

Her confidence wasn't manufactured.

Neither was her temper.

"She's competent."

My mother laughed.

"That wasn't what I asked."

"It's the answer you're getting."

"Very well, darling."

She paused.

"Just remember that a marriage involves a person, not merely an arrangement."

I said nothing.

And she ended the call.

At six thirty that evening, I arrived home to find Sebastian occupying my mother's favourite sofa.

He was eating something from a bowl.

"You're still here?"

"Unfortunately, this is also my home."

My mother emerged from the dining room.

"Damian, come and sit. Dinner is ready."

I loosened my tie.

"Thank you."

Sebastian looked at me.

"So, when is the wedding?"

"There's no wedding."

"Yet."

I ignored him.

My mother smiled as she placed a glass of water before me.

"Have you spoken to the Vances?"

"Not yet."

"Victoria called this afternoon."

I looked up.

"Why?"

"She wanted to discuss the proposal."

I placed my glass down.

"With you?"

"She knows our families have much to gain from this arrangement."

I nodded.

That was expected.

What I hadn't expected was my mother looking at me with that particular expression.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Mother."

She smiled.

"I simply hope Isabella knows what she's getting herself into."

Sebastian nearly choked on his food.

I stared at him.

"Swallow before you die. I don't want to explain your stupidity to the paramedics."

He laughed.

Later that night, I stood alone in my study.

A glass of whiskey rested on the desk, untouched.

Outside, Aurelia glittered beneath the darkness, its enormous buildings illuminated against the night sky.

My phone sat beside a folder containing the preliminary marriage agreement.

I opened Isabella's contact.

For a moment, I considered calling.

Then I remembered her expression when I suggested marriage.

Perhaps calling would be unwise.

I typed instead.

I trust you've had time to consider our conversation.

I sent the message.

No response.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

I placed the phone down.

Apparently, patience was another quality I would need to acquire.

I returned to the document, reviewing the proposed financial arrangements.

Everything was straightforward.

The companies would benefit. Our families would establish a stronger alliance. The marriage would provide the necessary public legitimacy.

There was no reason for complications.

My phone vibrated.

I reached for it.

ISABELLA VANCE.

Mr Blackwood, I have a question.

I leaned back.

Go ahead.

Her response came almost immediately.

Are you always this comfortable making life-changing decisions for people you've just met?

I stared at the screen.

Then, unexpectedly, I smiled.

Only when the decision makes financial sense.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

You really are insufferable.

I took a sip of my whiskey.

I've been told.

There was no response after that.

I placed my phone down, still faintly amused.

Isabella Vance was going to be difficult.

I suspected considerably more difficult than I had anticipated.

But for the first time in a long while, I found myself looking forward to the next negotiation.

I just hoped she would eventually understand that I wasn't offering her charity.

I was offering her a partnership.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

At least, that was what I intended.

END OF CHAPTER TWO. 💜