Rules of Engagement
1003 Words
Ella felt every inch of the dead quiet in Liam Sterling's office pressing down on her. The signed contract, stacked stiff and thick, with words blackened coldly, was before them on that big desk. Her promotion to VP, her large bonus, and all the other details about her employment, carefully contained, were set amid those cold clauses: public actions, confidentiality, and full prohibiting of intimacy in general. Her signature, large, and black swung back at her in defense with Liam's strong capitals appearing underneath.
Rule One, Ella echoed aloud in that echoing, bizarre atmosphere. Standing rigid in front of the desk, she failed to sit. Hand-holding was fielded as an example. Official arm-linking einsured. The unchinaed kiss on the cheek when photographers were present. Anything more was to be cast out immediately. Yes, that specifically. Both figuratively and literally.
Liam leaned back in his chair, crossing his long fingers. It was almost like a blink when the muscles around his eyes tightened slightly. "Define 'strictly necessary.' A gala requires a certain… performative intimacy."
"Hand on the lower back. Guiding, not groping," Ella stated. Her cheeks burning made her hurry to elaborate. "A peck on the cheek if absolutely unavoidable. That's the ceiling. Your 'performative intimacy' stops at my epidermis."
He nodded, matter-of-fact. "Rule Two?"
"In separate homes. Always. Absolutely no 'overnight appearances' for the sake of the act. I go home to my apartment. You go home to… wherever CEOs brood. We meet at events. We part ways afterwards. No exceptions."
"Agreed." Then he smiled, confusedly; was it relief?
"Rule Three," Ella walked on, her gait briefer and very tense in front of the luxurious carpet. "We maintain professional boundaries at work. Absolutely no preferential treatment. No lingering looks in the hallway. No 'darling' in the boardroom. We are colleagues. Period. The engagement is a… external branding exercise."
Liam arched an eyebrow. "That might prove challenging when Harrington inevitably wants meetings with 'the happy couple.'"
"Then we schedule them like any other business meeting." Ella released into another quick retort. "Outside of Sterling Dynamics hours. This office remains a Liam-and-Ella-free zone. Understood?"
"Crystal." A tinge of dryness. "Rule Four?"
"Unsolicited testing, actually," Ella stopped in front of him and faced him squarely. "No surprises. We coordinate every public appearance. Scripts. Talking points. Background stories. We rehearse. I will not be blindsided by a paparazzi ambush or a probing question about our 'first date' or our 'favorite shared hobby' that we haven't pre-agreed upon."
Liam tilted his head. "Prudent. I'll have Janice coordinate our calendars and draft preliminary talking points. Rule Five?"
It was the hard one. Ella took a deep breath. "My family. Specifically, my brother, Aiden. He's deployed overseas. He comes home in four months. He cannotknow this is fake. Not until it's over." Her voice grew in intensity. "He trusted you, Liam. You were his best friend. If he finds out we're lying to him, lying to everyone, about something like this..." Already, the betrayal loomed large on her tongue. "It would destroy him. And me. So we keep him out of it. Completely. No family dinners. No casual mentions. As far as Aiden is concerned, when he gets back, his best friend and his sister are inexplicably, disgustingly in love. And we sell that lie until the six months are up and we stage a quiet, mutual 'drift apart.'"
Silence began to overcome the two people. Liam went to study the situation as he idly moved his hands. For the first time, he seemed to ease off on his icy command; there was a flicker of some convoluted expression – guilt? Regret?—and then quickly it disappeared. "Aiden...deserves better than deception," he spoke quietly.
"Then shouldn't have proposed this farce!" Railroad heat surged inside Ella. "But you did. And now, to protect him from the fallout of your desperation, we lie. That's Rule Five. Non-negotiable."
Liam looked straight into Ella's eyes, and the arctic b
The chilling phrase "My boundaries are set by me" assaulted Liam. When I say it is too much, it is too much. Now take it or leave it. One muscle in Liam's jaw went into a spasm. He studied her, the calculating CEO firmly assessing the terms of a hostile negotiation. Finally, he leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "Very well. Veto power. Within reason. But understand, Ella, that walking away has consequences. Harrington goes under. Your promotion evaporates. Sterling Dynamics takes a hit. This is not a game."
"It's no longer a game the moment you made my private life a corporate liability," Ella shot back. "These are my terms. Agree to them or tear up the contract."
She maintained eye contact with him-the ghost of an unseen sixteen-year-old buried deep beneath centuries of hard-won armor. She would not blink.
Liam picked up a sleek black fountain pen. He didn't look at her as he jotted his initials next to each of her handwritten rules appended to the contract. The scratching of the nib sounded deafening in the ensuing silence.
"Consider them officially recorded," he said, laying the pen down with an air of finality. "The show begins tomorrow night. Kensington Charity Gala. Black tie. I'll have a car pick you up at seven." He stood, dismissing her in the process. "Janice will send details. And Ella?" He paused as she moved toward the door. "Wear something convincing."
Ella did not respond. She pushed the door open and stepped into the cool, unnamed hallway. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes. The weight of the signed contract felt like lead in her handbag. Just like that, she was agreeing to sell a soul; to dance with the devil who had broken her heart. She had the rules; she had the control. But as she walked toward her office, the echo of Liam's parting words-Wear something convincing-didn't feel so much like an instruction now as an ominous prediction. Could she convince Harrington? Could she convince the world?
More frighteningly, could she convince herself?
- Writer
