Chapter 2 The Fine Print

Emily couldn’t stop fidgeting. Every tick of the clock on the wall seemed louder than the last, and her fingers drummed impatiently against her thigh as she sat across from Ethan Reed in his sleek office. The sterile luxury of the room only amplified her discomfort. The towering windows behind him offered a perfect view of the city below, but she couldn’t focus on the beauty. Not when everything felt so cold, so alien. A man like Ethan Reed didn’t deal in warmth. He dealt in contracts. Power. Control. And Emily? She couldn’t even tell if she was nervous or just utterly out of her depth. Ethan sat there, studying a stack of papers, his expression unreadable. His perfectly tailored suit looked like it belonged to someone else entirely—someone who could afford to play by the rules, someone who had never been in her position. She felt small, like she didn’t belong in this world. “This is just a formality,” Ethan finally said, breaking the silence with his deep voice. He pushed the papers across the desk toward her, his eyes not meeting hers. “Sign here, and we can finalize the arrangement.” Her eyes flicked down to the contract, her heart hammering in her chest. The terms were laid out plainly: her safety in exchange for her marriage to Ethan Reed for one year. No romance. No strings. Just two people in an agreement, no more, no less. It had sounded so simple when he’d explained it over the phone. But now, sitting in front of the man who was about to become her husband—albeit for the most transactional of reasons—she felt a cold, tightening knot in her stomach. What was I thinking? she wondered. This isn’t me. I don’t belong here. Her hand hovered over the pen. This was real. A year of her life for a semblance of safety. It seemed too much to ask, yet too little to hope for. “How can I trust you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the question had been gnawing at her since Claire first mentioned his name. Could she really trust this man, who saw her as nothing more than a business transaction? Ethan’s gaze lifted from the contract, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. There was no warmth there. Only the cold, calculating focus of a man who’d likely seen every manipulation and power play imaginable. “You don’t have to trust me,” he replied, his voice flat. “You just have to follow the rules. I keep my end of the bargain, you keep yours. Simple.” “Simple?” she echoed bitterly, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “You don’t even know me. You don’t care about me.” He tilted his head slightly, a faint, amused smirk playing on his lips. Did he find this amusing? she thought. “It’s not personal, Emily. This is business. You need protection, and I need a way to clean up my image. I don’t have time for feelings.” The words stung more than she expected. She wasn’t looking for romance—hell, she didn’t want it. But the way he spoke about her, about them, was as if she were nothing more than a pawn in his game. A tool to fix whatever problems he had. “Then why am I here?” she asked, her voice shaking, her chest tightening. “If I’m just a… part of your plan?” “Because you’re the solution,” he said flatly, as though the matter was already settled. “Now, are we going to do this, or are we wasting time?” His tone left no room for argument. Emily took a deep breath, her mind swirling. This was the only way out. She had no choice. With a reluctant sigh, she reached for the pen, her fingers trembling slightly as she signed the bottom of the page. Her name was now on a contract that would shape the next year of her life. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she pushed the papers back toward him. “Done,” she whispered, the words feeling hollow in her mouth. Ethan didn’t smile. Didn’t even acknowledge the weight of her decision. He simply nodded, picked up the signed contract, and stood up. His movements were precise, efficient—completely impersonal. “Good,” he said, his voice indifferent. “I’ll have the paperwork filed immediately. You’re under my protection now. From here on out, you follow my rules. I’ll handle everything else.” “Everything else?” she repeated, confusion flaring in her chest. “What exactly does that mean?” He paused, gathering the papers in his hands, before he turned to look at her once more, his gaze cold as ever. “You’ll move into my place. We’ll present ourselves as a married couple. Your ex will be dealt with. Anyone who threatens you will be removed. No one will know this is a contract, unless we choose to tell them.” His voice was as cold as the room, as empty as the contract. He wasn’t asking her opinion; he was dictating the terms. As if she had any say. Her stomach churned at the thought of living in his world, even for a year. His world of power and control. But it was the price she had to pay for safety. For survival. Later that day, at Ethan’s penthouse… Emily stood in the center of the penthouse, her eyes scanning the space. The view was incredible—floor-to-ceiling windows offering a sweeping panorama of the city below. But everything else about the place felt wrong. Empty. Cold. The sterile luxury of the space only intensified her sense of alienation. She’d expected this, of course, but standing here, in this grand, impersonal place where Ethan lived alone, made it feel even more foreign. This wasn’t a home. It was a showcase—a place built for efficiency, for power. “Make yourself comfortable,” Ethan said, his voice distant, flat. “There are spare rooms down the hall. I’ll be in my office for the next few hours.” She stood there, rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do. This place was so unlike anything she had ever known. She wasn’t used to being treated like an object to be moved around, told where to go, what to do. But that’s what this was, wasn’t it? A business transaction. “Where do I sleep?” she asked, her bitterness creeping into her voice despite herself. Ethan glanced over his shoulder, his face impassive. “Wherever you want. Just remember, this is temporary. You’re not here for comfort; you’re here for safety.” Her chest tightened at the cold finality of his words. The emptiness of his voice. And with that, he turned and walked down the hall, leaving her alone in the silence of his vast, soulless apartment. An Hour Later… The sound of a door slamming down the hall caught Emily’s attention, her heart jumping in her chest. She hadn’t been expecting Ethan back so soon. She had barely settled in, and the silence had started to eat away at her nerves. Her instincts told her something was wrong. She could hear raised voices, low but urgent. And one of them—she could tell by the force in it—was Ethan’s. Curiosity and fear tugged at her simultaneously, but she stayed frozen, unsure whether to move or stay hidden. What was happening? And why did Ethan seem so… tense? Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall, growing louder. Emily’s pulse spiked. She backed away from the door as the shadow of a figure moved in the hallway outside. Who was that? Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and dialed Claire. The call went straight to voicemail. “Claire… something’s happening. I don’t know what, but I need—” The sound of the door crashing open stopped her mid-sentence. Her breath caught as she turned, facing Ethan, whose eyes were wild with something she hadn’t seen before.