TERMS AND CONDITIONS
694 Words
Liana stared at the contract like it might explode.
“You’re serious,” she said. “This is real.”
Darius didn’t blink. “Page three outlines your monthly allowance. Page five includes the NDA. Page seven defines acceptable behavior for public appearances.”
“You sound like you’ve done this before,” she muttered.
“I haven’t. But I prepare for every contingency.” He stood by the window, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the skyline like she was just another line item on his balance sheet. “You get your debts cleared. I get peace from my board. It’s mutually beneficial.”
“I’m not a business deal.”
His gaze shifted to her, sharp as glass. “No, you’re a waitress who woke up married to a billionaire. You don’t have to like the deal, Liana. You just have to accept it.”
Heat rose in her chest—shame, anger, fear. All tangled.
“I don’t even know you,” she said. “And you don’t know me.”
“That’s the point. Emotional involvement complicates things.”
She blinked. “You want a fake marriage. With rules. But no feelings.”
“No mess,” he corrected, stepping closer. “And no expectations.”
She crossed her arms. “What do you get out of this besides looking married?”
He hesitated—just for a moment. “My company’s expansion into Asia requires board approval. They don’t trust a man who can’t keep a stable relationship. One year of good press, smiling photos, and charitable galas with a wife at my side… then we divorce quietly. Everyone wins.”
Liana looked at the contract again. Her rent was three months overdue. Her sister’s medical bills were climbing. She had exactly twenty-seven dollars in her checking account.
“You’re offering me money, security, and a clean escape in twelve months?” she asked.
Darius nodded once. “Everything will be taken care of. As long as you follow the rules.”
She looked up at him. “And if I say no?”
His voice dropped an octave. “Then you leave this hotel suite, return to your life, and face your problems alone.”
Silence.
He didn’t threaten. He didn’t beg. He just stood there, waiting—silent, powerful, terrifyingly composed.
Liana swallowed.
“One year,” she said softly. “And then we’re done.”
His jaw tightened. “Agreed.”
She reached for the pen.
Liana picked up the pen. It felt heavier than it should have—like signing this would somehow rewrite her life in permanent ink.
“One year,” she repeated, almost to herself.
She signed.
Darius slid the contract back into his folder with clinical precision. “You’ll move into my residence tonight. I’ll have someone send a car.”
“Wait—tonight?”
He looked up. “We’re married. It would be suspicious if my wife didn’t live with me.”
“I have a job,” she said quickly. “And a roommate. I can’t just disappear.”
“You can. And you will. I’ll settle your lease and handle your employer.” He reached into his jacket and handed her a sleek black card. “Anything you need—clothing, essentials, personal care—use this. My assistant will be in touch.”
Liana stared at the credit card. Black AmEx. A symbol of power she never thought she’d even touch, let alone own.
“What if someone finds out this is fake?”
He didn’t flinch. “No one will. Unless you make it obvious.”
“And if I break the rules?”
His eyes locked onto hers. “Then the deal is off. The money stops. The consequences are yours.”
Liana clenched her jaw. “You really are cold.”
Darius looked down at her hand, at the ring now glinting under the morning light. “I warned you. No emotions. No attachments.”
He turned to leave.
But just before he opened the door, he said one more thing—quiet, flat, and final:
“Welcome to the marriage.”
- Writer
