Chapter 6 A contract for the princess

Nova's heart hammered against her ribs as she heard that knock on the door. Her hopeful puppy-dog expression vanished, replaced by a flicker of dread. Maybe it wasn't just her paranoia, maybe it really was her father at the door.

Nova's blood ran cold. "Oh my God!" Her eyes darted towards the door, pupils blown wide with terror. "I think it's him! He's found me!"

Bentley shot her a dismissive stare before he rose from his seat and strode towards the door.

He opened the door and wasn't surprised to see who was stranding in front of it.

"Since when did you start knocking before coming into the house, Franco?" He asked as he gave way for Franco to come inside.

"You are with woman, sir," Franco replied with a thick Spanish accent. "I didn't want to intrude."

Franco entered inside, his briefcase clutched in his hand. Nova recognized him from earlier that day – He was the man she saw coming out from Bentley's car earlier on.

The tension drained from Nova's face as she saw it wasn't who she'd expected.

"Thank God," she muttered as she relaxed on her seat.

"So Franco," Bentley continued. "How did the deal go? Did he sign it?"

"Yes sir. It took a few hours to get it signed. Mr Blackwood is tough and stubborn you know. It was a bit of problem but you know, he finally signed it."

"Rich folks, they all got their quirks. I'm rich myself so I can tell you that for free. But what matters now is that the deal's done. In this game, you gotta bend over backwards for the big fish, even if they want to sign the contract while dangling off a cliff. Business is business."

"Yes sir."

"And also what did he say about the security audit for his business new headquarters?"

"The security audit, yes. He said he wants it done at the new headquarters as soon as possible. He seemed very concerned about, uh, the IT infrastructure."

"Hmm. I believe he can handle it. But either ways, as long as we're in business now, our company is willing to provide any support he needs," Bentley finally concluded with the matter.

Bentley gestured towards the empty chair beside Nova. "Please have a seat."

Nova studied the two men with a set of green eyes drifting from one man to the other.

Bentley cleared his throat, drawing both their attention. "Franco," he began, "this is Miss Nova Sinclair. Nova, this is Franco, my PA."

Nova offered a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, Franco."

Franco returned the smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Likewise, Miss Sinclair."

"Now, Franco," Bentley continued, his voice returning to its business-like tone, "as we discussed, I believe Miss Sinclair needs to see the contract."

Nova's brow furrowed. "Contract?"

"Yes. You asked for my help earlier on, didn't you? And you made a declaration that you would do whatever I say as long as I save you from your family, hmm?"

"Yes but---"

"---Don't you think it would be more convenient for the two of us to put the agreement into writing? I am a business man. I don't deal with words but action. And I don't trust you. I don't trust women," then he turned to Franco and gestured for him to bring out the contract.

Franco unlatched his briefcase and retrieved a sleek folder embossed with the Sterling Global Holdings logo. He placed it on the table before Nova, unfolding it to reveal the official-looking document.

'Are they kidding me right now? This is serious,' she thought.

Nova's gaze darted between Bentley and the contract. The weight of the situation pressed down on her. This was it. The moment of truth.

She didn't even know what was written in the contract.

How could he draft a contract without first discussing the terms with her?

Bentley leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Don't get any ideas, Sinclair. I know the look in your eyes. You think I'm some kind of monster who preys on women. Let me assure you, that's not my style." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "But let's be clear – I built this empire from the ground up, and I won't let some careless mistake ruin it. You snuck into my car, and now you're a liability." He steepled his fingers, his gaze turning cold. "So, understand this: you either cooperate, or this whole thing gets messy, and trust me, you won't like the mess."

'Why is he so mean? Jesus'

Then he turned over to Franco and signalled him to hand the contract to her.

Franco slid the contract folder across the table towards Nova.

"Take your time, Miss Sinclair," Bentley said, his voice smooth as silk. "It's not like we're holding your breath... or your freedom hostage." The last few words came out laced with a subtle threat that sent shivers down Nova's spine.

'I wonder how he's able to switch tones within seconds.'

A small, cynical part of her wanted to defy him, to storm out and face the unknown rather than submit to his demands. But logic, that pesky voice of reason, whispered of the dangers that lurked outside these walls. Her father would waste no time in locking her up in her room until she agreed to marry Henry Carnegie.

With a defeated sigh, she reached for the contract.

"Franco, did I tell you that Miss Nova here is the daughter of Dominic Sinclair, Chairman of SET?" Bentley said, a smirk laced out on the side of his lips.

"What?" Franco's eyes narrowed. "This is bad idea, boss," he muttered, his voice low and tight. "We don't need the Sinclairs as enemies. Especially that old man. He is trouble."

"Relax, Franco, relax," Bentley said, switching to a smooth Spanish. He finished their conversation with a dismissive pat on Franco's hand. "The contract spells it out clearly. Nova's of legal age, and this agreement protects both of us. Now, breathe easy."

"And just so we're clear, Sinclair," Bentley continued, refering to Nova, his voice devoid of warmth, "refusal isn't an option. The door is right there if you decide this gilded cage isn't to your liking. But remember, the world outside isn't quite as forgiving."

"I prefer to be called Nova if you don't mind," she replied without glancing at him. "Thank you in advance," she opened the thick-covered contract and began to go through it's content.

Bentley shot her a studious glance but made no comment.

"So, Mr. Sterling," she began, her voice dripping with mock seriousness, "it seems this little agreement of ours is more than just---" she cleared her throat and continued. "Let's see here, clause number one: absolute discretion, which we've already established. Clause number two..." Her voice trailed off as she raised an eyebrow at him. "Clause number one: assume the role of a domestic... assistant? Is that butler training I see in my future?"

"I have workers for that, Nova. You'd only be assisting in little things they can't do. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No. Not at all. I shall continue reviewing the clauses," her gaze averted to Franco briefly before she focused back on her contract. "Clause number three: maintain a... professional... demeanor at all times?"

Bentley's gaze met hers, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Professionalism is key, Miss Sinclair. Especially when representing Sterling Global in public or serving me... In private settings."

Nova swallowed, a knot forming in her stomach. The implications of that last statement hung heavy in the air.

What exactly did 'private settings' entail?

She decided it was best not to ask until her eyes landed on the final clause. Clause number six, bold and clear, sent a jolt through her spine.