Chapter 4: Signing
1153 Words
The driver opened the door without a word.
This was her life now. Maybe. If she signed.
The drive to Canlis took twenty minutes through Seattle traffic. Elena watched the city lights blur past, trying to calm her racing heart.
The restaurant sat on a hill overlooking Lake Union, a mid-century modern masterpiece of glass and stone. The Mercedes pulled up to the valet stand, and suddenly Elena was being escorted inside by a hostess who looked like she'd stepped out of Vogue.
"Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you."
The dining room was elegant and hushed, full of people who wore wealth like a second skin. Elena felt every eye track her as she followed the hostess to a private corner table.
Damien stood when she approached.
He wore a charcoal suit without a tie, the top button of his shirt undone. His hair was slightly less perfect than yesterday, like he'd run his hands through it. He looked tired.
He also looked unfairly attractive.
"Elena." He pulled out her chair. "You look lovely."
"You look exhausted."
His mouth quirked—not quite a smile, but close. "Seventy-two hours of board meetings will do that." He sat across from her. "Wine?"
"Please."
He signaled the sommelier
"So," Damien said. "Questions?"
Elena pulled out her phone with the notes she'd typed. "Twenty-three of them."
"I have time."
For the next hour, over wine and food Elena barely tasted, they negotiated the terms of their fake marriage like it was a business merger. Which, she supposed, it was.
Some questions were practical: What happens if the pregnancy doesn't take? (They'd try IVF, his expense.) What if his grandfather dies before the two years? (The contract still stands.) What about holidays? (Spent together, for appearances.)
Some were personal: Would he expect her to quit her job? (No, but she'd need to reduce hours.) Would they tell the child the truth someday? (To be determined.) What if one of them met someone else? (Discretion required, no public dating.)
And one question Elena almost didn't ask: "What was she like? Caroline?"
Damien's wine glass paused halfway to his lips. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because if I'm going to pretend to be your wife, I should know who I'm replacing."
"You're not replacing anyone."
"Then what am I doing?"
Damien set down his glass. The candlelight cast shadows across his face, making him look younger. Vulnerable.
"She was brilliant," he finally said. "A lawyer. She made me laugh, which no one else could do. She wanted three children and a house in the suburbs. She wanted..." He stopped. "She wanted things I can't give anymore."
"And you think a contract marriage is what she'd want for you?"
"I think she'd want me to stop living in the past. This is how I do that."
Elena understood. Sometimes moving forward meant choosing the path that hurt least, not the one that healed most.
"Okay," she said quietly.
"Okay?"
"I'll do it. I'll sign your contract."
Damien went very still. "You're sure?"
Was she? No. But she was desperate, and he was offering a solution, and maybe Vanessa was right—maybe this was the practical choice.
"I have three conditions," Elena said. "First, I want monthly visits with the baby after I leave. Not just holidays. Real time."
"Agreed."
"Second, I want to donate one million of the final payment to fund a free clinic in my mother's name. I'll need your help making that happen."
Something shifted in Damien's expression. "Also agreed."
"Third..." Elena took a breath. "If I do this, if I commit to two years of pretending... you have to promise not to make me regret it. No cruelty. No humiliation. We may not love each other, but we treat each other with respect."
Damien reached across the table, his hand hovering near hers but not quite touching. "Elena, I promise you—I will never intentionally hurt you. This arrangement may be unconventional, but you'll be under my protection. That means something."
"Then we have a deal," Elena said.
Damien's hand finally closed over hers.
She'd just agreed to marry a stranger. To have his child. To play a role for two years.
She'd just sold her life for five million dollars.
And she couldn't tell if she'd made the best decision or the worst mistake of her life.
"When do we start?" she asked.
"Contract signing tomorrow. Marriage in seventy-two hours. My grandfather wants to meet you this weekend." He squeezed her hand once before releasing it. "I hope you're ready, Elena. Because the easy part is over."
"That was the easy part?"
"That was just dinner. Now comes the performance of a lifetime."
Elena reached for her wine and downed the rest of the glass.
She was going to need it.
The offices of Whitmore & Associates.
Elena sat in the same conference room where she'd met with Vanessa yesterday, but now the table was crowded with people. Damien sat beside her in another perfectly tailored suit—navy today, with a tie the color of steel. Across from them were three lawyers, including Vanessa, who gave Elena an encouraging nod.
And there, in the center of the table, sat the contract. Forty-seven pages that would change everything.
"Before we begin," said the lead attorney, a silver-haired man named Richard Whitmore, "I need to confirm that both parties have read and understood all terms and conditions. Miss Martinez, have you had adequate time to review the contract and consult independent legal counsel?"
"Yes." Elena said.
"And you enter into this agreement of your own free will, without coercion or duress?"
She felt Damien's eyes on her. One last chance to run.
"Yes."
"Mr. Blackwood, same question."
"Yes."
Whitmore nodded. "Then let's proceed. We'll go through each article for final confirmation..."
The next hour was a blur of legal language and initialing pages. Article after article, signing away pieces of her life. Her freedom. Her next two years.
Article 4: MARITAL OBLIGATIONS
Both parties agree to cohabitate at the primary residence and maintain the public appearance of a genuine marital relationship, including but not limited to: joint attendance at social functions, displays of appropriate affection in public settings, and mutual support during family gatherings...
"Displays of appropriate affection," Elena repeated. "What does that mean exactly?"
Damien answered before the lawyers could. "Holding hands. A kiss on the cheek for photographs. Nothing more than what a real couple would do in public."
"And in private?"
"In private, we maintain professional boundaries unless we mutually agree otherwise." His tone was crisp, businesslike. Like they were discussing a merger, not a marriage.
Elena initialed the page.
Article 9: PREGNANCY AND MEDICAL CARE
The Wife agrees to undergo fertility testing and, if medically cleared, proceed with artificial insemination using the Husband's genetic material. Should conception not occur within six months, both parties agree to pursue IVF treatment
- Writer
