The Offer on the Table
1916 Words
“Lost your way already?”
Jackson’s voice rolled from the carved oak doors before Savannah even knocked.
She froze on the marble steps, the early evening wind teasing the loose strands of her hair. Her fingers clenched the strap of her battered handbag as if it were the last piece of her courage. The voice, smooth, confident, and edged with a kind of cruel amusement, made her stomach twist.
“You’re early,” he said as the door swung open.
Savannah’s breath hitched. He stood there like sin tailored in charcoal gray, broad shoulders, sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins on his forearms, eyes dark as midnight glass. There was something unnervingly deliberate about him, like every movement was planned three steps ahead.
“And you’re exactly how I imagined,” she said, lifting her chin though her knees wobbled. “Predictable.”
“Predictable?” His mouth curved, not in warmth but in challenge. “Careful, Savannah. Some men enjoy being provoked.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not just some man,” she shot back.
His brow arched. “No. I’m not.”
He stepped aside. “Come in.”
She did. Every part of her wanted to turn around, but pride pushed her forward. The marble floor gleamed beneath her worn shoes, swallowing her reflection as she entered a world too polished, too precise. The foyer was vast, drowning in light from chandeliers that dripped like liquid gold. Every corner whispered money, control, power, the trinity that defined Jackson Sterling.
“Trying to impress me?” she muttered.
“I don’t try,” he said, closing the door with a click that sounded like the end of something. “Impressing people is a side effect.”
The air smelled of leather and cedarwood, and underneath it, him. She followed his measured stride through a hall lined with portraits of people who looked carved from arrogance itself. He stopped before a set of tall glass doors and held one open.
“After you.”
The study beyond could have been mistaken for a museum, mahogany shelves heavy with old books, a fire snapping lazily in the hearth, the faint hum of quiet dominance in the air. A single massive desk sat before the window, papers in perfect order.
“Sit,” he said, motioning toward a leather chair opposite him.
She hesitated. “You talk to people like you own them.”
“I talk to people like I expect efficiency.”
Savannah sat, the chair swallowing her small frame. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She’d come here to reject his absurd proposal, to tell him she’d find another way to save her home, but sitting across from him, under that unflinching gaze, she felt cornered.
He leaned against the desk, arms folded. His silence was unnerving. It pressed against her like gravity until she blurted out, “You said this was about my house.”
“Yes,” he said smoothly. “I’ll pay off your debt. The foreclosure disappears. Your home remains yours. In return, you’ll marry me.”
The words hit harder than the first time she’d heard them. Her throat went dry. “You’re still serious about that?”
“I don’t repeat things I don’t mean.”
“This is insane,” she said, standing abruptly. “You can’t just, just buy me.”
“I’m not buying you.” His eyes flickered. “I’m offering a contract.”
“You mean a cage.”
“If that’s how you want to see it.”
Her laugh was sharp. “And what do I get out of it, besides humiliation?”
“Security. Stability. Your father’s house.” His voice softened just slightly. “Freedom, in a different form.”
She turned away, staring at the flames licking the hearth. “Why me? You could have anyone.”
“Because anyone else would lie to me.”
She spun around. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You won’t pretend to love me, Savannah. You’ll keep the arrangement clean. Real emotions complicate contracts. I need someone who won’t blur lines.”
“That’s… cold,” she whispered.
“Honest,” he countered.
Their eyes locked, firelight flickering between them. For a long moment, the room seemed too small. She could feel his pulse of dominance, the way he filled every inch of space.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Jackson’s voice stopped her halfway to the door. “The bank gave you twelve days.”
Her hand froze on the doorknob.
“I know the numbers,” he said quietly. “Your savings are gone. The medical bills for your father, unpaid. The second mortgage, defaulted. And the car you drive hasn’t passed inspection in months.”
Her breath caught. “You’ve been watching me.”
“I’ve been… thorough.”
“That’s not thorough, that’s invasive!”
He straightened, his tone calm. “You came here because you know I’m right.”
She turned to face him, eyes burning. “You don’t get to know everything about me.”
“I already do.”
She wanted to scream. “Why me, Jackson? Why ruin my life?”
He didn’t flinch. “Because you’re the only person I can trust.”
The words broke the air between them. Savannah blinked, thrown off balance. “That’s a lie.”
He moved closer, slow, deliberate. “Everyone in my world wants something from me, money, influence, power. You? You just want to survive. That makes you honest.”
“Honest?” she whispered bitterly. “You call this honesty? You’re blackmailing me into marriage.”
“I’m giving you a choice.”
Her pulse quickened. “What kind of choice is this?”
“The kind that keeps your house standing.”
She shook her head. “No. No, this isn’t right.”
Jackson studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, in a low, quiet tone that sent a shiver down her spine, he said, “You’re wasting time arguing with the inevitable.”
Savannah took a step back. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” he murmured, “you came.”
The words sliced deeper than they should have. She hated how true they were.
“I came to tell you no,” she said, voice shaking. “I’m not signing anything.”
“Then why haven’t you left?”
The question caught her breath mid-chest. Her lips parted, but no answer came.
He took another step closer until they were inches apart. She could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, smell the warmth of his cologne. Her hands trembled at her sides, not from fear, but from the sharp, dangerous awareness that he was far too close.
“Look at me,” he said.
She refused. “I said no.”
“Then say it to my face.”
Her chin lifted defiantly, but her voice came out soft. “No.”
Jackson’s gaze didn’t waver. “Say it like you mean it.”
She did, louder this time. “No!”
But it sounded more like a plea than a protest. The fire popped behind them, the sound startling in the silence that followed.
He exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself. “You’re brave. I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not. I admire it.”
He moved past her to the window, looking out at the city lights that glittered like shattered glass. His tone was quieter now, but there was something heavy in it. “You remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who thought pride could buy peace.”
Savannah swallowed. “Did it?”
“No,” he said. “It cost her everything.”
She said nothing. The clock on the wall ticked, counting out the silence. Then Jackson turned back to her, the softness gone, replaced by the steel she’d seen before.
“I need your answer,” he said, voice low but unyielding. “Now.”
Her heart thundered. “You can’t just demand, ”
“I can,” he interrupted. “And I am.”
Savannah’s hands curled into fists. “You think the world bends just because you want it to.”
“It usually does.”
“Well, not me,” she whispered.
His gaze darkened. “Then prove it. Walk out that door. But when you do, understand something, there will be no second offer. The bank will move. Your house will be gone. You’ll lose everything your father built.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “You’re cruel.”
“No,” he said softly. “I’m practical.”
The distance between them felt electric, charged. She wanted to move, to speak, to run, but her body refused. He took one step closer, then another, until her back brushed the edge of his desk.
“Why are you doing this?” she breathed.
Jackson’s voice was quiet enough to sound like a confession. “Because I need you more than you realize.”
Her pulse jumped. “Need me for what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for the desk, pulled a slim folder free, and placed it on the wood between them. Inside was a simple contract. Her name printed neatly at the top.
“Read it,” he said.
“I don’t want to.”
“Then sign it blind. It’s still your choice.”
Savannah stared at the pages. Every letter blurred under the weight of what he was asking. Her hands trembled as she touched the pen he slid toward her.
“Jackson,” she whispered, “this is madness.”
He leaned forward, his breath warm near her ear. “Maybe. But madness built this city.”
The air thickened around them. Savannah closed her eyes, the words twelve days echoing through her head. She could almost hear her father’s voice telling her to fight for what mattered. But right now, everything felt like quicksand, pulling her deeper, faster.
When she opened her eyes, Jackson was still watching her, silent, waiting.
Her fingers brushed the pen. She didn’t lift it, yet, but the moment she did, she knew her life would never be the same.
“Your answer,” Jackson said again, his tone a whisper of command.
Savannah’s throat tightened. The pen hovered. Her lips parted,
And then, somewhere in the mansion, a door slammed.
Jackson’s head snapped toward the sound. Footsteps echoed down the hall. A woman’s voice, cold and sharp, cut through the silence.
“Jackson,” it called. “We need to talk.”
Savannah froze. Jackson’s expression shifted, surprise, then irritation. The spell broke.
He turned back to Savannah, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Don’t move.”
But she already had. The pen slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the desk. Her heart pounded as she whispered, “Looks like someone else wants your attention.”
Jackson’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening to something unreadable. “This conversation isn’t over.”
He turned toward the door, leaving her alone in the flickering firelight.
Savannah exhaled shakily, staring at the unsigned contract.
Her pulse refused to calm. Because in that moment, she realized something far more terrifying than losing her house,
She wasn’t sure she wanted to say no.
- Writer
