A CONTRACTS OF HEART
1484 Words
Elena sat in the backseat of the black Bentley, staring out of the tinted window as the towering skyline of Manhattan blurred past. The ring on her finger gleamed in the late morning sun, cold and unfamiliar on her skin—like the man who now shared her last name.
She had signed no prenup. No agreement. No consent she could recall. But here she was—wife of Jace Lennox, billionaire, mystery, and apparently, master manipulator.
It had taken everything in her not to slap the smirk off his face when he calmly offered her money for six months of fake marriage. But against all logic and self-respect, she’d agreed.
Why?
Because maybe, just maybe, disappearing into someone else’s world was easier than facing her own broken one.
“Are you always this quiet?” Jace asked beside her, breaking the silence.
She turned slowly, glaring. “I’m still wondering if I should jump out of this car.”
“If you do, wear a helmet,” he said casually, adjusting his cufflinks.
Elena scoffed, folding her arms. “I can’t believe I married a robot.”
“I assure you, I’m very much human.”
“Debatable.”
The car pulled into the underground parking of an upscale residential skyscraper in Midtown. Jace stepped out first, holding the door for her with the same bored politeness he might offer a hotel bellhop.
“Welcome home,” he said.
She didn’t move.
“Elena,” he said flatly, “I don’t have time for dramatic pauses. Let’s get this over with.”
Her heels clicked against the marble as she followed him into the private elevator. It smelled like money—leather, wood polish, and chilled air that felt like it cost hundreds per hour.
When the elevator doors slid open, Elena stepped into what looked like a magazine spread. The penthouse was sleek, masculine, and soulless. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in light, casting reflections across expensive furniture and minimalist decor.
“This is your space now,” Jace said. “My home office is downstairs. We’ll have separate rooms. You can do whatever you want, just don’t invite drama.”
She turned to him slowly. “You mean don’t embarrass you.”
He smirked. “Exactly.”
She crossed her arms. “I want a written agreement. If I’m going to be your fake wife for six months, I want everything in black and white. Terms, boundaries, payment.”
“I admire your business sense,” he said. “Lawyers have already drawn one up. It’s in the study.”
Of course they had.
Jace walked toward a black folder on a glass desk and handed it to her. She flipped through the document.
> Duration: 6 months
Terms: Public appearances as husband and wife when requested
Compensation: $50,000/month, a new car, fashion allowance, and a post-marriage severance package
Restrictions: No disclosure to the press, no dating other parties, no intimate relations unless mutually agreed
She raised an eyebrow. “Wow. No kissing unless agreed? That’s oddly considerate.”
“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” he replied. “This marriage is strictly business.”
Elena sat down on the nearest couch, the weight of it all beginning to settle. “How did my life turn into this?”
“You asked for tequila,” he said dryly.
She glared at him.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. A tall, refined woman entered, carrying several garment bags.
“Elena, this is Mara, your personal stylist. She’ll help you look the part.”
“I didn’t agree to a makeover,” Elena muttered.
“You’re the wife of a billionaire now. The public watches.”
Mara gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, darling. We’ll keep you elegant, not ridiculous.”
Elena sighed. This couldn’t be real. But it was.
Two hours later, she sat in front of a mirror, staring at a version of herself she barely recognized—soft curls pinned, subtle makeup highlighting her sharp cheekbones, a cream-colored designer dress hugging her curves tastefully.
“You clean up well,” Jace said, walking past with a coffee.
“You sound surprised,” she muttered.
“I expected more resistance.”
“Oh, I’m resisting internally,” she said. “Just waiting for the right moment.”
He ignored the jab. “Tonight, we have a charity gala. You’ll be introduced as my wife. Smile. Nod. Pretend we’re madly in love.”
“Any reason why you need a fake wife so badly?” she asked, standing and facing him.
His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—regret? Pain?
“There are people watching me. Investors. Enemies. A family that thinks I’m incapable of settling down. This marriage keeps them off my back.”
“And I’m just a pawn in your corporate chess game,” she said.
He looked directly into her eyes. “You chose to play.”
---
The gala was held at a grand hotel ballroom, filled with chandeliers, string quartets, and people with too much money and not enough morals.
Elena stepped out of the limo, her hand trembling slightly on Jace’s arm. Cameras flashed. Reporters leaned in.
“Mr. Lennox! Who’s the beautiful lady?”
“Is this the mystery wife we’ve heard about?”
Jace smiled for the first time that evening—not a smirk, but a real, practiced smile.
“This is Elena Lennox,” he said, pride laced into his voice. “My wife.”
Wife.
The word echoed in her head like a bell.
He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back and leaned in. “Ready for act one?”
“Let the circus begin,” she muttered.
They moved through the crowd like royalty. Jace whispered introductions in her ear. She smiled, nodded, played the role.
But her eyes kept drifting to him.
How could one man be so controlled? So unreadable?
When the speeches began, Elena excused herself to the balcony. The noise, the cameras—it was too much. She needed air.
She leaned against the rail, watching the city lights blur into stars. The night air cooled her skin, calming the storm in her chest.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Jace said behind her.
She didn’t turn.
“You’re good at faking it,” she said.
“So are you.”
A pause stretched between them.
“Do you regret it?” she asked finally. “Marrying me?”
He stepped beside her. “Not yet.”
She looked at him. “Why me, Jace? You could’ve picked any model, any actress.”
“I didn’t want someone fake pretending to be real,” he said. “I wanted someone real pretending to be fake.”
She blinked. “That’s… oddly poetic.”
He gave a tight smile. “Don’t get used to it.”
Elena looked out again. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“No,” he agreed. “But maybe we’ll both come out of it stronger.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a threat or a promise.
When they reentered the ballroom, Jace’s phone buzzed. He checked it and stiffened slightly.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said too quickly.
But his hand gripped hers just a bit tighter.
---
Later that night, back in the penthouse, Elena stepped out of her heels and let out a long sigh. Her feet were killing her. Her head throbbed from fake smiles.
She turned to find Jace removing his jacket. “You were good tonight.”
“Of course I was. I’m an actress now, apparently,” she said, collapsing onto the couch.
He didn’t respond.
She studied him. “Is something wrong?”
He paused. “There’s someone asking questions. A reporter. About you. About the marriage.”
Her chest tightened. “Do they know?”
“Not yet,” he said. “But we need to look more real.”
“Define ‘more real,’ Jace.”
He met her eyes. “We need a story. How we met. How I proposed. Your favorite flowers. My favorite food. The press loves details.”
She blinked. “You want to script a fake love story?”
He nodded. “We start tomorrow.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Fine. But I get to choose how you proposed.”
He smirked. “Deal.”
“And for the record,” she added, pulling the throw blanket over her, “I prefer sunflowers over roses. Roses are cliché.”
His expression softened. Just a little. “Duly noted, Mrs. Lennox.”
She turned away before he could see the way her heart fluttered at the sound of that name.
STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER
- Writer
