My Rival is My CEO

Chapter 9: The 2019 Agreement

It was the next day. 8 AM. I was kind of late before I got the text.

Charles Knight: Penthouse. Now. Both of you.

The penthouse was silent when we arrived. Charles Knight poured two glasses of scotch like he owned the place. Which, technically, he still did. Knight Corp's name was still on the building.

"You both did well at the gala," he said, handing one to my father. "The press loved the photo. Very... domestic."

I didn't sit. Neither did Damian. He was in a black shirt today, sleeves pushed up, no tie as usual. But his jaw was tight. He hadn't slept either. That photo of me in his jacket was on every blog this morning.

"You wanted to see us at 8 AM for a reason," Damian said. His voice was low and cold.

My father finally looked at me. Richard Evans, the man who taught me business is war and love is leverage.

"Elena, sit."

"I'll stand. Say what you need to say so I can go save the company you both almost killed."

Charles smiled. "Still that mouth. Just like 2019."

He slid a black folder across the marble table. Old. Dusty. The Knight Corp logo from 5 years ago faded.

Damian opened it first. I saw his knuckles turn white. His hands froze.

Inside was a contract. Signed. Notarized. Dated: August 13, 2019.

Joint Venture Agreement - Evans Global x Knight Corp

Clause 9.2: In the event of financial failure or hostile takeover...

I read it over his shoulder. My heart stopped cold.

"If the joint venture fails to reach $500M profit in 5 years, both parties agree to merge the companies through marriage of their heirs: Elena Evans and Damian Knight. Marriage to be completed within 30 days of failure declaration."

Silence. So loud it hurt.

"You WHAT?" My voice cracked then turned to ice. "You signed my body away? I was sixteen!"

My father didn't even blink. "It was business. You were 16. It was just insurance. A formality."

"INSURANCE? I'm your daughter, not your collateral! You sold me like one of your warehouses!"

"It was never supposed to activate!" Richard shouted, finally showing guilt. "The JV was supposed to succeed! Charles said —"

Charles cut him off smoothly. "The JV failed. It lost $200M. Which means Clause 9.2 is now active. You have 30 days to get married, or both companies go to the board for liquidation. My 40% plus Richard's 30%... we sell. The shareholders will vote to sell to Beijing Logistics."

Damian laughed. A dark, dangerous laugh with nothing funny in it.

"You want me to marry her because you lost Savannah? You lost the Savannah contract because you're old, greedy, and you still think yelling at interns is leadership."

"Watch your mouth, boy," Charles snapped.

"No. You watch," Damian stepped in front of me, shielding me. His back was broad, his scent hitting me — cologne and coffee and late night. "You bring us here to tell me I have to marry my rival because of a paper you signed when she was a child in high school? You are sick."

He looked at me over his shoulder. For the first time in four years, his eyes weren't cold or mocking. They were furious. For me.

"Elena, we don't have to do this. I will fight this in court."

"Oh, you will," Charles said, enjoying it. "And while you fight for 2 years, I will use my 40% to remove you both tomorrow. Elena loses her 30%, you lose your CEO title, and I fire every worker in Queens that your little girlfriend cares so much about. Her little charity project, gone."

My father stood. "Elena, be smart. It's a good deal. Knight Corp plus Evans Global. You'd be the most powerful couple in New York. You always wanted power."

"I WANT POWER ON MY OWN TERMS!" I yelled, my voice echoing off the glass. "I don't want to be a wife! I want to be THE CEO! Not HIS wife!"

I was breathing hard. My chest rising and falling. Damian's eyes dropped for half a second, then snapped back up.

Damian grabbed the folder and threw it. Papers flew everywhere like snow.

"We're done. Come on, Elena."

He grabbed my hand. His hand was warm. Big. Calloused from rowing at Crestwood. Strong. I should have pulled away. My brain said pull away. My hand stayed.

We walked out. The elevator doors closed.

Inside the elevator, mirrored walls, we were alone. His hand still holding mine, now intertwined.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quieter, looking down at me.

"No. Are you?"

"No."

We were so close. I could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the tired line under his eyes. Enemies for four years. Partners for seven days. And now... fiancés? By a contract from 2019?

The elevator dinged. Lobby.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Reporters were already there. They knew.

"Mr. Knight! Is it true you're engaged to Ms. Evans? Is the wedding next month?"

"What?"

Zara's text popped on my phone, vibrating non-stop: [OMG ELENA, CHECK TWITTER NOW, CHARLES LEAKED IT TO WSJ, YOU'RE TRENDING #1]

I checked.

@WSJBusiness: BREAKING: To save $500M merger, billionaire heirs Elena Evans (21) and Damian Knight (23) to marry next month per secret 2019 pact. Exclusive photo inside. #KnightEvansWedding

The photo was from last night. Me in his oversized jacket, hair messy, him looking down at me on that balcony like he wanted to devour me. We looked like a couple. A real one.

Damian saw it over my shoulder. His grip on my hand tightened, possessive.

"Well, wifey," he whispered, so only I could hear, his lips almost brushing my ear, breath hot on my neck, "looks like we're getting married."

A shiver ran straight down my spine.

I looked up at him, chin high, not backing down. "Fake. Six months. Then divorce. And we need rules."

He leaned down, even closer, his mouth now inches from mine. Everyone watching.

"Rule one, Evans. No falling for me. I don't do love."

My heart pounded a little bit more than usual at his words, so loud I was sure he could hear it. Traitor.

I smirked, savage. "Rule two, Knight. Don't fall for me either. I will ruin you, husband."

"Wouldn't dream of it, wife."