Chapter 2 — One Week
922 Words
Fleure
"Are you mocking me?"
I don't shout. Not yet. But my voice trembles, louder than it should, tearing through the frozen silence of the office.
I jump to my feet, my fingers gripping the edge of the contract like a piece of driftwood to hold onto. My eyes burn into his, defiant, wild. Aaron Valesco remains motionless, impassive, as if he knows everything, as if he had foreseen this moment when I would rebel, when my pride would refuse to yield.
"Seriously? You summoned me here, in your… icy ivory tower, to offer me a marriage of convenience? As if I were just a name to fill in on a bureaucratic form?"
A heavy silence falls between us. His calm grates on my teeth. That calculated indifference leaves me breathless.
"I'm not for sale, Mr. Valesco."
I throw the sheet onto the desk. The thud of paper against solid wood echoes like a slap. Anger bubbles in my veins, burns under my skin, makes my heart race.
"What you're proposing is obscene. I may have debts, I may spend sleepless nights imagining how to pay the rent, but I'm not desperate enough to trade my dignity for a six-figure bonus."
He tilts his head slightly, almost thoughtfully, as if discovering a face he'd never really seen before. Not just a candidate on a resume, but a whole woman, on edge, vulnerable and proud.
"I'm not mocking you, Fleure."
I laugh, bitterly, breath catching.
"Oh no? What is it then? A social experiment? A test to see how far a woman will go to save her skin? Or are you playing the modern prince, convinced that everything can be bought, even a soul?"
He doesn't answer immediately. His dark eyes sink into mine with an almost painful intensity.
Then he murmurs, "You haven't read the last page."
I frown, intrigued despite myself. He slowly pushes the file towards me, with his fingertips. The page stares at me like a mirror.
"The contract stipulates that you are free to refuse at any time. No consequences. But if you accept… you become something more than just a name on a page."
I look at him, hanging on his words.
"What does that mean?"
His voice softens, becomes almost hypnotic.
"I don't need a decorative figurine. I need a woman capable of standing by my side in tense meetings, in front of my partners, in front of shareholders, and even in front of my enemies. A brilliant woman, who knows how to keep her cool. A partner. Not a trophy."
I remain still, breath caught, heart oscillating between defiance and curiosity. I should run. Slam the door. Tell him I'm not a piece on his board.
But his words reach me.
They dig a furrow in my resistance.
I feel that strange disturbance, that fascination mixed with rage.
He sees my hesitation. His gaze descends slowly, taking in my flushed cheeks, my bitten lips, my tense hands on the desk. Then he steps back, giving me space, but without taking his eyes off me.
"You have a week."
I let out a sigh, incredulous.
"A week?"
"To think. To accept. Or to slam the door and never come back."
He walks to the window, stands tall, dominating the shining city. A king in his realm of glass and power.
"It's not a game, Fleure. I never joke. And I have never made this offer to anyone else."
I stand up, my body tense, throat tight, heart pounding.
"That's the first thing I believe you on."
I turn around, heels striking the cold marble, strong, determined. More a warning than an exit.
I go through the elevator, the reception, the glass doors. Outside, the cool air hits my face, slaps me. Finally, I catch my breath.
But I still feel, burning on my back, that gaze.
That poison.
That gilded trap.
And that unbearable shiver deep in my belly.
One week.
One week to say no.
Or to condemn myself.
I drive back, the streets flashing by, but I see nothing. Every light, every face seems to reflect the turmoil within me.
The contract weighs in my bag, like an invisible chain on my shoulders.
The office, which should be my refuge, greets me with a strange silence.
I open the door.
Maëlys looks up, her smile freezes.
"Fleure? You're here. You seem… in another world."
Her soft voice draws a sigh from me.
She closes her computer, gets up, and comes to take my hand.
"Come, sit down."
I collapse on the sofa, empty, trembling.
"Maëlys… I have to tell you."
She listens without interrupting, hanging on my words.
I confide in her about Aaron's proposal, the contract, the conditions, the threat.
Her eyes widen, her face closes, her jaw tightens.
"It's insane. Who is this man to ask you that? And why you?"
"I don't know," I murmur. "He's arrogant, powerful… and there's something about him that disturbs me."
She squeezes my hand.
"It's not about power or money. It's a trap. Don't fall for it."
"I know. But I have a week to decide. A week to choose between my pride and my survival."
She looks at me, determined.
"You're not alone, Fleure. We'll find a solution. No matter what."
I feel a new fire rise within me. Anger becomes a weapon.
"Thank you, Maëlys."
We spend the night devising plans, imagining how to play this dangerous game without losing.
Time is running out.
One week.
Time to transform the unpredictable into strength.
- Writer
