Chapter 2 The contract

The truth was a heavy stone lodged in my throat, a secret so dark that it would ruin him if he ever found out.

"You have five minutes, Maya," Lucas whispered, his face inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips. "Start talking."

I forced myself to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I couldn't let him see me break. I couldn't let him see the sheer, unadulterated panic clawing at my chest.

"I was young," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I was twenty-three, Lucas. I was terrified."

"Terrified of what?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. "Terrified of a man who worshipped the ground you walked on? Terrified of the million-dollar wedding I had planned for you? Terrified of a life where you would never have to worry about money again?"

"It wasn't about the money," I snapped, the old fire flaring up inside me. "It was never about the money."

"Then what was it?" he yelled, and the volume of his voice made me flinch. He slammed his hand against the mahogany table, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the empty boardroom. "Five years, Maya. For five years I have wondered what I did wrong. Did I smother you? Was I too busy? Did I not love you enough?"

"No!" I cried, the word ripping from my throat. "You were perfect. You were always perfect. That was the problem."

Lucas stared at me, his chest heaving, the cold mask completely shattered. He looked raw, vulnerable, and so incredibly angry.

"Explain," he demanded. "Explain to me how being perfect made you run."

I couldn't. I couldn't tell him that my father, the man whose legacy I was trying so desperately to save, was the reason I had to disappear. My father had gambling debts so massive and so dangerous that his creditors had threatened to kill Lucas if I didn't leave him. They wanted me to marry someone else, a man connected to the underworld who would clear the debt in exchange for my hand.

But I had run from that man, too. I had run from everyone, burying myself in design school, changing my number, and hiding in plain sight. Now I was drowning in the remnants of my father's mistakes.

"I can't," I whispered, looking down at the floor. "I can't tell you."

"You can't," Lucas repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, chilling calm. "Or you won't?"

"Both," I said, looking up at him, my eyes pleading. "Please, Lucas. Just give me the contract. Let me save my company. I will pay you back every single cent with interest. I swear."

Lucas studied me for a long, agonizing moment. He walked back to his chair, sat down, and pulled a file out of his leather briefcase. He slid it across the table toward me.

"I don't want your money, Maya," he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion now. "I have more money than I know what to do with. I want your compliance."

I looked down at the file. It wasn't a business contract. The title at the top read: *Personal Services Agreement.*

"What is this?" I asked, my stomach dropping.

"That," Lucas said, leaning back in his chair, "is the only way I will sign the contract for Vertex Designs. The board is looking for stability. They want to see that the CEO of Vance Ventures has settled down. They are old-fashioned, and they are threatening to vote me out if I don't clean up my image."

"Your image?" I asked, completely confused. "Your image is spotless. You're a billionaire philanthropist."

"According to the tabloids, I'm a cold, heartless playboy who drove his fiancée away," he said sharply. "The board wants a wife. They want a family man. They want a ring on my finger."

My eyes widened. "No."

"Oh, yes," Lucas said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "You are going to be my fiancée. Again."

"Absolutely not," I said, pushing the file back toward him. "I am not doing this. I will find another investor."

"Who?" Lucas laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Who else is going to touch a failing design firm with a mountain of debt? I'm your last option, Maya. And we both know it."

I felt tears prick my eyes. I hated crying in front of him. I hated feeling this weak.

"The rules are simple," Lucas continued, ignoring my distress. "For the next thirty days, you will live in my penthouse. You will attend every event on my calendar. You will smile, you will hold my hand, and you will convince the world that we are madly in love."

"And what happens in thirty days?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"In thirty days, the merger will be finalized. I will sign the contract for your company, I will pay off the bank, and you will walk away, free and clear."

"And if I say no?"

Lucas leaned forward, his hazel eyes piercing mine. "Then you walk out that door, and you watch your father's legacy burn to the ground."

The room spun around me. I gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling. I had no choice. He had me exactly where he wanted me.

"Fine," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'll do it."

"Good," Lucas said flatly. He pushed a gold-plated pen toward me. "Sign the contract."

I picked up the pen. My hand was shaking so badly that I could barely write my name. I signed on the dotted line, feeling as if I were signing away my soul to the devil.

Lucas took the contract, folded it, and placed it back in his briefcase. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it, revealing a massive, flawless diamond ring.

"Give me your hand," he commanded.

I hesitated for a second, then slowly extended my left hand. He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly, just as it had five years ago. The cold metal felt like a shackle.

"Rule number one," Lucas said, standing up and towering over me. "No kissing on the lips. I don't want any confusion between business and pleasure."

"Trust me," I said, pulling my hand away, the sting of his words igniting my own anger. "The feeling is entirely mutual."

"Rule number two," he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. "You sleep in the guest bedroom. It's down the hall. Don't come into my room at night. I don't care how scared you are of the dark."

"I'm not a child, Lucas."

"Rule number three," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper. He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. "You don't lie to me again. If I ask you a question, you answer it honestly. About anything. About us. About why you left. If I catch you in one lie, the deal is off, and you are out on the street."

I swallowed hard, the secret burning a hole in my chest. "Fine."

"Good," he said, stepping back. "My driver is waiting downstairs. He has your new keys and the address of the penthouse. Be there by seven. We have dinner with the board tomorrow night, and you need to look the part."

He turned and walked toward the doors, his long strides confident and powerful.

"Lucas?" I called.

He stopped with his hand on the door handle, but he didn't turn around.

"What happens if I fall in love with you again?" I asked, the words escaping before I could stop them. It was a stupid thing to say. A vulnerable, desperate thing to say.

Lucas finally turned his head, his profile lit by the harsh lighting of the boardroom. A cold, unreadable smile played on his lips.

"Then you had better pray I don't break your heart the way you broke mine," he said.

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving me alone in the cavernous boardroom, wearing a diamond ring and wondering what kind of hell I had just signed up for.