The document was twelve pages long.
Maya stared at it as if it were a living thing—something that might bite if she touched it wrong.
Adrian's private legal counsel sat across the table in the conference room, flipping through a sleek tablet, while Adrian himself leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The room was all glass and steel, designed to intimidate. Maya had been in it dozens of times before, but today it felt different.
Today, she wasn't an employee.
She was a clause.
"Let's go through this slowly," the lawyer said, polite but distant. "This contract defines the nature, duration, and boundaries of the marriage."
Marriage.
The word still felt unreal.
Maya cleared her throat. "Six months," she said, eyes scanning the first page. "That's shorter than what you originally said."
Adrian's gaze flicked to her. "I adjusted the timeline."
"Why?"
"Because," he replied evenly, "six months is long enough to convince the board and the public—and short enough to minimize… complications."
Maya almost laughed. Almost.
"Fine," she said. "Six months it is."
The lawyer nodded and continued. "Clause 3.1: This marriage is strictly contractual. Neither party is obligated to develop emotional attachment, romantic feelings, or physical intimacy beyond what is required for public appearances."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "So… no love."
"Yes," Adrian said. "Explicitly."
She glanced at him. "You really had to spell it out?"
"I prefer clarity."
She exhaled sharply. "Good. Because I don't want confusion later."
Something passed through Adrian's eyes at that, too fast to identify.
The lawyer scrolled. "Clause 3.2: Neither party shall experience or express jealousy regarding the other's interactions, past relationships, or professional engagements."
Maya let out a dry laugh. "That seems optimistic."
"It's necessary," Adrian said. "Jealousy leads to mistakes."
"Or feelings," she countered.
"Exactly."
She looked back at the document. "What if the media links you to someone else? Models, ex-girlfriends—"
"They won't," he said.
"You don't control rumors."
"I control my behavior."
Maya studied his face. He believed that. Believed control was absolute.
"Fine," she said. "No jealousy. From either side."
The lawyer nodded. "Clause 4: Living arrangements. Mrs. Cole will reside in the Blackwood Penthouse. Separate bedrooms will be maintained at all times."
Maya stiffened. "Penthouse?"
"It's necessary," Adrian said. "Public perception."
"I could stay in my apartment—"
"No," he interrupted. "That won't work."
She frowned. "You're already dictating where I live."
"It's temporary."
"Six months is not temporary when it's your life," she snapped.
Silence followed.
Adrian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Maya," he said quietly, "this only works if we're convincing. If the press senses distance, the contract fails. If it fails, the fallout will be worse for you than for me."
She hated that he was right.
"…Fine," she said again. "Separate rooms. Clear boundaries."
The lawyer continued. "Clause 5: Physical contact is limited to public settings—hand-holding, light embraces, and posed affection for cameras. No private physical intimacy unless mutually agreed upon."
Maya's cheeks warmed despite herself. "Add this," she said firmly. "No intimacy. Period."
The lawyer glanced at Adrian.
Adrian held her gaze. "That's acceptable."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Clause 6," the lawyer said. "Public conduct. Both parties agree to portray a stable, affectionate marriage during all professional and social engagements."
Maya scoffed. "Affectionate."
"It's an act," Adrian said.
"And if I'm uncomfortable?"
"You won't be forced into anything inappropriate," he replied. "But you'll have to perform."
She swallowed. "I didn't sign up to be an actress."
"You signed up to survive," he said.
That stung because it was true.
The lawyer cleared his throat. "Clause 7: Confidentiality. The contractual nature of this marriage is strictly classified. Disclosure by either party results in immediate termination and legal consequences."
"Meaning?" Maya asked.
"You'd lose the settlement," Adrian said. "And your family's support would be withdrawn."
Her jaw tightened. "You don't have to sound so… clinical."
"This is a contract," he replied. "Not a fairy tale."
The lawyer scrolled again. "Clause 8: Emotional boundaries. Neither party may attempt to influence, manipulate, or emotionally depend on the other."
Maya paused. "Define 'emotionally depend.'"
Adrian answered. "No leaning on each other. No confiding. No expectations."
"No comfort?" she asked quietly.
"No," he said.
For a moment, the room felt colder.
"Add something," Maya said suddenly.
The lawyer looked up. "Yes?"
"If either of us breaks these rules," she said, eyes fixed on Adrian, "we end it immediately. No arguments. No penalties."
Adrian considered her for a long moment.
"Agreed," he said. "Add Clause 9."
The lawyer typed.
Maya leaned back, exhausted. "Anything else?"
"Yes," Adrian said.
She looked at him warily.
"Last rule," he said. "Outside relationships."
Her stomach tightened. "What about them?"
"We're publicly exclusive," he said. "Privately… we don't interfere."
"So you can date," she said flatly.
"And so can you."
Maya laughed bitterly. "As if I'll have time."
"Still," he said, "it needs to be clear. No expectations. No claims."
"No ownership," she murmured.
"Yes," Adrian said. "That."
The lawyer slid a tablet across the table. "If both parties are satisfied, you may sign."
Maya stared at the signature line.
Six months.
No love.
No jealousy.
No comfort.
She thought of her father. Her brother. The relief this contract would bring them.
And the emptiness it would bring her.
She signed.
The sound of her name appearing on the screen felt louder than it should have.
Adrian took the tablet next. He didn't hesitate. His signature was sharp, decisive.
When he handed it back, the lawyer smiled professionally.
"Congratulations to you both."
Neither of them responded.
The lawyer left soon after, the door closing softly behind him. Silence filled the room again—but this time, it was different. Heavier.
"Well," Maya said finally, standing up. "Guess we're married."
Adrian rose as well. "On paper."
She slung her bag over her shoulder. "When do we move in?"
"Tonight."
Her eyes widened. "Tonight?"
"The press announcement goes out tomorrow morning," he said. "We need photos. A narrative."
She shook her head. "You plan everything."
"I don't like surprises."
"Neither do I," she said quietly.
As she reached the door, Adrian spoke again.
"Maya."
She turned.
"This works only if we follow the rules," he said. "No matter what."
She held his gaze, something tight in her chest. "Don't worry," she said. "I know how to keep my heart out of things."
Adrian nodded once.
Neither of them noticed the lie forming between them.
Because contracts could control actions.
But feelings?
Feelings never read the rules.
Next: Chapter 6 - Public Lies
Rules can protect a relationship.
But they can't protect a reputation.
Tonight | 11:30 PM – 12:30 AM