Chapter 2 – The Pact
1191 Words
“So how do two powerful people fake something as messy as a relationship without getting… burned?”
Sofia sipped her wine slowly, letting the Burgundy coat her tongue as she watched Dominic lean back in the booth. The low lighting glinted off his cufflinks. He looked like a man born for danger and yet far too refined to get caught in it.
Dominic didn't flinch. “Simple. We play by rules.”
She arched a brow. “You’re a lawyer. You love rules.”
“And you’re in marketing. You know how to sell an image.” His voice was smooth, too smooth. “Together, we’re a scandal waiting to not happen.”
“Funny,” she said, setting her glass down, “I thought you hated unnecessary drama. Isn't that why you fired Matthew?”
His smile was a slow, deliberate curve. “Among other reasons.”
Ah, there it was again—that maddening tension. The kind that hummed just beneath the skin. She could feel it in the air between them, coiling like heat in a Manila summer storm.
Sofia glanced around the restaurant. People were watching. Of course they were. They always did when someone like Dominic Blackwell was in the room. He wasn’t just rich—he was the kind of rich that made rumors swirl before he even said a word.
“I don’t want to be someone’s PR stunt,” she said plainly.
“Neither do I,” he said. “This isn’t about performance. It’s about efficiency. You and I both want to make our families happy. I don’t want to be set up again. You clearly don’t either. So we fake something real enough to convince them, and we move on.”
“Move on to what?”
Dominic’s gaze darkened, his fingers tapping once against the table before stilling. “That’s up to you.”
There was a moment—brief, breathless—where neither of them spoke. Where the air shifted from playful to sharp. Sofia wasn’t stupid. Dominic Blackwell didn’t suggest fake dating for convenience. He suggested it because something in her had piqued his interest. And he wasn’t used to being told no.
“So,” she said carefully, “what do these… rules look like?”
He leaned forward slightly, voice low. “Rule one: We keep our story consistent. How we met. When. Why we’re together.”
“Easy enough,” she said. “We met through the blind date. Sparks flew. Couldn’t help ourselves.”
He nodded. “Rule two: We go public. Once. Just enough to set the story. A gala, a lunch, a business event—whatever feels natural.”
Sofia nodded slowly. “And rule three?”
His eyes didn’t leave hers. “We keep things strictly platonic.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You said no strings, no expectations,” Dominic said calmly. “That includes physical. You and I both know what happens when s*x complicates things.”
Her mouth went dry.
Because the minute he said strictly platonic, her body betrayed her. Heat flashed between her thighs like a silent rebellion. She couldn’t help it—his voice, his presence, his scent like cedar and spice. The idea of not touching him suddenly felt far more dangerous than the alternative.
She straightened her shoulders. “Fine. Strictly business.”
Dominic lifted his wineglass. “Then we have a deal.”
Sofia clinked her glass against his. But she didn’t drink.
Because deep down, she wasn’t sure if this was a deal she wanted to make—or one she wouldn’t survive.
***
They left La Jolie together.
It was a choice, not a necessity. But once Dominic offered to walk her to her car, and once Sofia didn’t say no, it became something else entirely. She could feel the weight of his body next to hers as they stepped into the warm Manila night. The city glowed gold and silver around them, alive with the scent of traffic, roasted peanuts from a street cart, and the faint trace of rain on pavement.
Dominic walked like a man who never had to rush—shoulders relaxed, hands in pockets, head slightly tilted toward her like he wasn’t in a hurry to say goodnight.
“So,” he said after a beat, “should we post a photo?”
Sofia glanced up. “You want to make it social media official already?”
He smirked. “You’re the marketing expert. What’s the modern standard for fake relationships?”
She laughed softly. “Usually a soft launch. A blurry photo. Or one of us laughing at something off-camera.”
Dominic considered that. “Let’s try something better.” He held out his phone and, without asking, leaned slightly toward her. Close enough for her to smell his cologne again. Close enough for her heart to trip.
Sofia raised an eyebrow. “Selfie?”
“Evidence,” he said. “For our records.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t stop him. When he held up the phone, she gave a subtle smile, her eyes flicking toward his just as he took the shot. His arm brushed her shoulder. For one second, she felt his body heat radiate through her skin like fire under silk.
He looked at the photo and said nothing.
Then, quietly, “You look dangerous in this.”
Sofia glanced at it. She did look dangerous. But it wasn’t her makeup or her dress. It was the spark in her eyes—the one that always ignited right before she made a terrible, beautiful decision.
“You have no idea,” she murmured.
***
They stood by her car in silence.
Neither of them moved to leave.
Dominic’s hand rested casually on the roof of her sedan. He looked down at her like he was assessing a legal argument, weighing its risks and merits. Sofia felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff—and she hated how much she liked the view.
“So what happens tomorrow?” she asked.
“We give it a few days. Let it simmer. Then we pick a moment to go public. Make it believable.”
“And after that?”
Dominic stepped in slightly, just enough that she had to tilt her head to look at him. “Then we keep pretending.”
His eyes dropped briefly to her lips. Not a move. Just a flicker. Like a thought he hadn’t meant to reveal.
Sofia’s breath caught.
She could end it here. She could say goodnight, drive off, and never call him back.
But something about him—something dangerous and unfinished—pulled her in like a current.
“Text me the photo,” she said instead.
Dominic nodded once. “You’ll have it by the time you get home.”
He opened her car door without waiting. Gentlemanly. Disarming.
And then, just as she stepped inside, he murmured, “You were never going to be just a fake date, Sofia.”
Before she could answer, he shut the door.
And walked away.
- Writer
