The ticking of the clock on Damon's wall sounded like a countdown to the rest of my life. I stood rooted to the spot, the dampness of my clothes a cold reminder of my vulnerability.
Damon didn't move away. He stayed close….too close…close enough that I could see the golden flecks in his coffee-brown eyes.
He reached out, his long, tan fingers plucking the damp resume from my hand. The briefest brush of his skin against mine sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the office's air conditioning.
"Education: Honors. Experience: Impeccable," he read aloud, his voice dropping an octave. "And yet, you're currently dripping onto my Persian rug, Miss Vance. Most people would have turned around and run the moment they saw me."
"I needed the job," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "And I don't run from my mistakes. Even if that mistake was not realizing the man behind the tinted glass was the CEO of Thorne Industries."
A small, dark smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He walked behind his massive mahogany desk and sat down, gesturing for me to take the seat opposite him. "I don't need someone to manage my calendar, Elena. I need someone to manage my image. My board of directors wants me 'stabilized.' They want me married."
My jaw dropped. "You want me to find you a wife?"
"No," he said, leaning forward, his 6'3" frame looming. "I want you to be the wife. Six months. A shared residence. In exchange, I pay off your debts and give you a severance package that means you never have to work again. "
I looked at the contract. The amount listed was staggering.Enough to change everything. "I... I need an hour."
Damon checked his watch, his expression bored. "You have sixty minutes, Miss Vance. My driver will be waiting."
I practically ran out of the building and into the small, cramped diner three blocks away where Maya was waiting. Maya had been my best friend since we were kids in the South Side. She was the only person who knew the weight I carried.
"You're soaking wet!" Maya hissed as I slid into the booth, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "Elena, what happened? Did you get the job?"
"It's not a job, Maya. It's a... it's a contract." I whispered the details to her, my hands shaking as I gripped my coffee mug. "He wants me to pretend to be his fiancée for six months. He'll pay for everything. He'll pay for Mom."
Maya's face went pale. "Elena, no. This sounds like a trap. You don't know this man! He literally splashed you with his car and then tried to buy your dignity. Now he wants to buy you?".
"He's buying my time, not me," I argued, though my heart wasn't in it.
"Think about Mom," I continued, my voice breaking. "I visited her yesterday, Maya. The facility she's in... the roof is leaking, and they're understaffed. She was shivering, and she didn't even recognize me because she was so cold. If I do this, I can move her to the North Shore clinic. They have 24-hour specialists. They have heating."
Maya reached across the table, squeezing my hand. Her eyes were full of worry. "I know you want to save her, El. But look at you. You're already being swallowed by this. Men like Damon Thorne don't play fair. What happens when the six months are over and he doesn't want to let his 'asset' go?"
"I'm a big girl, Maya. I can handle a billionaire with an ego."
"I'm going to hold you to that," Maya said, her voice trembling. "But if you don't call me every single night, I am calling the police and telling them a tall, grumpy CEO kidnapped my best friend."
Two hours later, I was standing in the marble foyer of Damon's Gold Coast penthouse. It was cold, modern, and smelled like him. I had signed the papers. I had said goodbye to Maya. I had traded my life for my mother's safety.
"What about the contract papers"? I asked. I haven't signed.
He looked at me with a bored expression..
"Your room is the second door on the left," Damon said, tossing his keys onto a side table. He had discarded his blazer, and the thin fabric of his dress shirt strained against the hard muscles of his back and shoulders.
"The papers are on the nightstand" he replied. His eyes raking over me
I made my way to the room with his description.
The room is decorated in Grey and Champagne tones. Sophisticated, but devoid of any warmth. Every surface is hard: marble-topped nightstands, a vanity made of smoked glass, and a heavy velvet blackout curtain that weighs a ton.
A massive king-sized platform bed sits in the center, draped in 1,000-thread-count charcoal silk sheets that feel like liquid against the skin. It's a far cry from her squeaky twin mattress, yet it feels twice as lonely.
On the vanity, Damon has already stocked the drawers with high-end skincare and gold-encased lipstick. None of which she chose. There is a walk-in closet the size of her old apartment.
Her window doesn't look out at the skyline; it looks directly onto the private terrace. If she looks out, she sees the fire pit. If Damon is on the terrace, he can see her silhouette against the glass.
It is a beautiful room, but to Elena, it feels like a high-tech cell. It's a space where she is surrounded by the best things in the world, yet she's never felt more like a stranger.
I moved to the nightstand and the papers was there just like he said with a gold pen. I picked it up, took a deep shaky breath and in deep cursive strokes..I signed. Signed my name in the devil's ink.
I was just finishing unpacking,placing the framed photo of my mother on the nightstand when the door swung open without a knock.
Damon stood there, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the tanned lines of his collarbone and the shadow of his well-built chest.
"I forgot to mention," he said, his voice a low rumble. "The board is hosting a dinner tonight. They've already heard I've found... someone. We're going."
I handed the signed papers with his pen back to him
"Tonight? Damon, my only suit is ruined!"
He stepped into my room, his presence shrinking the space. He stopped inches from me, so tall I had to tilt my head back. His coffee-brown eyes tracked the movement of my pulse in my neck.
"I've already handled it," he said. Two assistants walked in carrying a garment bag. They unzipped it to reveal a gown spun from silver moonlight dress. Designed to hug every inch of my hourglass frame.
"Put it on," Damon commanded, his gaze lingering on my lips for a second too long. "And Elena? Try to look like you like me. It's the most expensive part of the contract."
As the door closed behind him, I looked at the dre
ss. Maya was right to be worried. This wasn't just a job. This was a war.