Contract of Hearts

A Signed Deal

Eva stared at the gold embossed contract documents in front of her, her hands trembling just slightly as she picked up the pen and prepared to sign away her freedom.

Twelve months she told herself.

It was just twelve months of pretending to love a man she could barely stand , a man who probably hated her more . Twelve months of forced public smiles, sucking up to rich socialites as well as , dinner parties with people who were so stuck up and thought themselves better than others. She shuddered, took a deep breath and then she signed the documents for the contract.

Meanwhile,

Lawrence King watched her with those silver gray eyes that were proving to be unreadable , he then took the document and added his signature in a fluid smooth and swift practiced motion. “Welcome to your new life, Mrs. King ” He said standing up.

“Let’s not pretend you’re enjoying this either,” she muttered, also rising to her feet .

“I don’t pretend,” he replied. “You’ll move into my penthouse tomorrow.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You really think we’ll survive living together?”

Lawrence leaned back, that infuriating smirk back in place. “I have an iron clad selfcontrol Mrs King". " Now the real question is do you?”.

Eva blinked surprised he asked . of course she had self control around him . She didn't even like him . He was just her almost boss and soon to be husband . For all she cared he could continue sleeping around with all his ladies.

The wedding was held the very next day at a private estate in upstate New York. The premises was very elegant and secluded . The event meticulously orchestrated.

It was everything a billionaire’s wedding should be colourful, tasteful , celebrity guests, press , and a ceremony planned down to the second and of course the talk of the whole town.

Everything... except love that was really lacking in their pretend marriage.

Eva stood, staring disbelievingly in front of a mirror in a designer gown that hugged her curves like the models in Victoria's secret. The fabric was soft, luxurious, but the weight in her chest made her feel anything but glamorous. Her hair was pinned back, her lips painted red, and she was having a hard time recognizing the woman staring back at her in the mirror.

Her bridesmaids were strangers. Her family—what little she had was absent, and her mom was in no condition to attend the ceremony. And yet, the cameras outside waited eagerly for the first shot of the new Mrs. King.

She took a deep breath and stepped into the garden where the ceremony was held. The aisle was lined with white roses. A string quartet played softly. Guests rose as she appeared, all turning to admire the bride who had seemingly captured the heart of Lawrence King.

But only she knew the truth.

At the altar, Lawrence stood tall and unreadable in a tailored black tuxedo. His eyes met hers, and for a brief second, something flickered. Not warmth, but… awareness.

She walked toward him, every step echoing like a countdown.

When she reached his side, he leaned in and murmured, “You look like a woman who could destroy empires.”

Eva gave a tight smile. “Maybe I will.”

The ceremony proceeded like a well-oiled machine. Not even a single thing was out of line or out of place.

There were no vows of devotion,. Just the standard lines.

“Do you, Lawrence King take Eva Winston…”

“I do.”

“Do you, Eva Winston, take Lawrence King…”

“I do.”

There was no trembling voice , no tears. Just two signatures on a legal document disguised as holy matrimony.

He slid the ring onto her finger cold and platinum, the perfect fit.

She did the same, her hand steady despite the deep fluttering feeling she experienced.

“You may kiss the bride,” the church minister said.

Lawrence cupped her face with calculated grace, lowered his head, and brushed his lips against hers.

It was soft, Precise, manipulative even and deceptively tender.

But beneath all that , Eva felt the sharp edge of the contract they’d both signed. It wasn’t a promise.

It was a warning and it gave her the chills.

True to his word, the very next day he had come to get her.

The penthouse was everything Eva expected and even exceeded her expectations yet sadly it was nothing she wanted. It was very spacious for one, with floor to ceiling windows that took up a large space overlooked the Manhattan skyline, modern art hung on pristine walls, indeed he had a good eye and good taste and every surface shined and gleamed . For all it's beauty the penthouse appeared very sterile and Cold. Just like it's owner. Like him.

He took her on a mini tour and she found out that her room was on the opposite end of the penthouse far away from his . She supposed that was a good thing. It was the one thing that brought her joy. The penthouse also had a guest suite, with a state of the art design.It was plush and spacious but was also unfortunately as cold and soulless as the rest of the house.

Hours after she had unpacked and settled in , he invited her for dinner in the huge dining room.

Dinner that night was a very tense, silent and awkward affair.

Lawrence worked through a glass of scotch, eating heartily while Eva picked at her seared scallops, cooked by a private chef he had hired for the night. A chef she was yet to see .The silence stretched so strong and nerve racking,until finally she physically couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re really not even going to try small talk?” she asked incredulously surprised that he hadn't even said a word to her .

His eyes flicked up lazily from his drink and settled disturbingly on her.

“Would it make this easier?”

“Yes.” she replied looking down at her plate, suddenly feeling shy.

He sighed. “Fine. Why did you chose to work at a diner?”

Eva blinked. Taken aback “What?” she asked.

“You’re talented, and have some basic degree of educational training. You could easily have applied for a job at some other firm for a position like a clerk or a receptionist yet you chose waitressing forgive me when I say this but it’s not exactly stable. Especially when you were caring for an ailing parent.”

Eva stiffened. “It wasn't really about stability. It was about what was available , what I could find. plus I get good tips at the dinner. Anyway you've always had it easy in life so you

you clearly will not understand my plight.”

“I see" he said. "Is that why you agreed quickly to my proposal?"

She slammed her fork down. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m just curious Eva.”

“You’re a jerk.”

He sipped his drink, unbothered. “You knew what this was.

The first few days after their marriage was strange, to say the least. Emma had finally settled into the penthouse, her heart pounding in her chest as she navigated this new world. It was everything she had imagined—beautiful, cold, and indifferent. Lawrence didn’t share much with her beyond the barest of minimum. They had , separate lives. He worked in his office as usual while she stayed at home as a house wife. Their marriage was purely for show.

Eva had never felt more out of place.

Her days were spent attending dinners at five star restaurants, charity galas, and corporate events. Her calendar was filled . She wore designer gowns picked out by his assistant a woman she was yet to meet. She smiled through champagne toasts, and let him touch her waist as if he had a right to her. All of it was staged. The media adored them “New York’s power couple” they said

but behind closed doors, their marriage was nothing but a facade.

Lawrence kept their interactions brief. Efficient. and professional . Always professional.

She would attend high-society events with him, smiling and nodding at people who didn’t care about her. He would escort her, his hand on the small of her back as they posed for photos and exchanged pleasantries. But when the cameras were off, he was distant and cold as usual like a man who had long since abandoned any illusions of intimacy. She often wondered if he wasn't getting s****l satisfaction else where. She didn't know why but the thought of that made her angry.

Yet, despite the emotional distance, something about the contract and the arrangement, made her feel naked, vulnerable and exposed. There were moments when their gazes would meet across a room, and she would catch a flicker of something in those cold grey eyes of his something she couldn’t name, but it unsettled her.

Soon, the weeks blurred together.Public appearances became routine. Smiling for cameras, holding hands, whispering fake sweet nothings. To the world, they were a golden couple. Behind closed doors, they barely spoke unless it was biting sarcasm or snide remarks.

But sometimes, just sometimes,the act slipped.

Like the night Eva came home soaked from the rain, shivering, exhausted after attending a solo gallery opening for an old friend. Lawrence handed her a towel without a word. Later, she found her favorite tea waiting in the kitchen.

Or the time she got a call about an old debt collector resurfacing, and Lawrence handled it quietly, efficiently. No questions asked. He didn't know but that singular act made her feel safe and protected.

Their walls were thick, but the cracks were forming.

It was the charity gala that changed everything.

Eva wore crimson silk, the dress clinging to her curves, her dark curls pinned up, lips painted to match the gown. She was fire and temptation.

Lawrence couldn’t look away.

“You clean up alright,” she teased.

He leaned in, voice low. “You’re playing with fire.”

She arched a brow. “Afraid you’ll get burned?”

His gaze darkened. “Afraid I won’t stop.”

The gala was a blur of flashbulbs, champagne, and artificial smiles. But the tension between them simmered just beneath the surface—undeniable now. They weren’t enemies pretending anymore.

They were something dangerous. Something on the verge of combusting.

Back at the penthouse, Eva stood in front of her bedroom door but didn’t open it. She turned instead.

Lawrence was right behind her.

They stood inches apart, breathing in sync.

They were something very dangerous. Something on the verge of combustion.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered.

“The worst,” he agreed.

And then his mouth was on hers.

Hot, possessive, aggressive and filled with every word they hadn’t said, every darkness he possessed. She kissed him back like she hated him, like she loved him, like she wanted to erase every fight, every insult.

They didn’t make it to a bed. They couldn't. There was no time for that .The bedroom wall had to sufficed.

Their rules shattered that night.

And neither of them mentioned the contract all through the night.

They couldn't. It was impossible.