Chapter 8 Terms and Conditions

Grant

"I promise you one thing: if you marry that girl, it's a hellish life of insecurity. And guess what? You brought it upon yourself," my mother's voice crackled through the phone, sharp and reverberating.

Even the phone seemed to understand the threat as it shook, shifting slightly on the table where I'd placed it.

"Okay," I replied simply, turning my attention to the window. Beyond the glass lay the quiet street, deserted and serene.

It had a strange calming effect.

This office in a building I'd designed and built from the ground up, represented everything I'd achieved.

My freedom. My dreams. My relationships.

Here, I was someone of my own making.

Beyond these walls, I was just another Pembroke, a name with obligations, expectations, and suffocating history.

"Behave like a Pembroke, or your life is over!" she snapped, her voice rising in threat.

I exhaled, forcing my tone to remain calm. "Don't talk to me like that. I've tolerated enough-like you weren't the architect of this mess. "

If I was a Pembroke, why would I even have to act like it.

Before she could respond, I heard footsteps outside the door. Mark and Aria.

Without another word, I hung up, cutting off whatever savage response she was preparing.

The door opened, and Mark walked in, followed by Aria.

She strode forward with quiet confidence, taking the seat directly across from me.

Her boldness tugged at the corner of my mouth in an involuntary smirk. At least she was someone who knew what she wanted and what she was signing up for.

Better her than dragging some naive, unsuspecting girl into the suffocating world of the Pembroke family.

"Aria," I said, leaning back in my chair, "I won't waste your time. We just need to go over the basics of the agreement. I've decided to proceed with your proposal-as long as you adhere to my terms."

She nodded, her gaze steady. To my surprise, there was no trace of her usual defiance. Instead, she seemed composed.

"Go ahead," she said simply.

"I just need you to stay out of trouble, honestly," I said, "The name I carry-I can't afford for my own family to tarnish it.

Stay clear of any scandal, and I'll let you have whatever you want as my wife."

"I'll abide by those rules. I don't want trouble either," Aria replied, her voice calm and composed.

I nodded, glancing at Mark, who stood behind her, silent but watchful, as though she were a high-profile criminal under investigation.

Before I could proceed, Mark broke the silence. "Before you pull out the contract, isn't it risky that you don't know anything about her? This is real life, Grant. This girl could be anyone-dangerous, even. We don't know her family, her criminal background, or-"

Before he could finish, Aria reached into her bag and thrust a neat stack of papers into his chest.

Mark hesitated, glaring at her for a moment before accepting the documents.

Slowly, he flipped through them, his frown deepening in confusion before he finally approached me and set the papers down on my desk.

It was a brief biography-a summary of her background, education, and even a police report.

Her school records indicated she had a degree but had dropped out of medical school.

"Why is-" Mark began, but Aria cut him off sharply.

"Don't question my choices," she said. "I've outlined everything you need to know. There's a police report and a criminal background check included. Scan the code on the last page if you want confirmation."

Without another word, Mark pulled out his phone, flipping to the police report page. He scanned the QR code and squinted at his screen as the information loaded.

After a few moments, he looked up, cleared his throat, and muttered, "Well, it's all clean. I guess you're harmless... for now."

He retreated to a corner, still scrutinizing the compilation as if he might uncover a hidden secret.

I turned my attention back to Aria. Pulling out the contract, I slid it across the desk.

She skimmed it quickly, reached into her bag, and retrieved a pen. Without hesitation, she signed and passed the document back to me. I signed in turn, sealing the agreement with the weight of both our signatures.

"Send me a copy," Aria said, rummaging through her bag.

I nodded, sliding the contract aside.

"Put the contract out of sight," she added.

"Why?" I asked, hesitating.

Before she could answer, her phone was already out, the screen glowing as she turned the camera toward herself.

"Smile, Grant," she said, striking a pose.

I blinked, caught off guard as the sound of shutter clicks filled the room. Leaning back in my chair, I stared at her, speechless.

"Why are we taking pictures?" I asked finally.

She scrolled through her phone with a satisfied smile. "These are good. You're always handsome anyway."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"We've got to start making this look real," she said matter-of-factly, then glanced up at me. "Follow me back on social media, Grant."

Before I could respond, Mark sprang into action. He grabbed my phone from the desk and started navigating through my apps, his fingers flying over the screen.

A second later, he turned it to me, showing a newly posted photo: me looking confused while Aria smiled at the camera, her expression almost affectionate.

The caption was a simple heart emoji.

"I'll text you on Instagram," Aria said, tucking her phone away. Then she turned to Mark with a sly grin. "And stop reading our private chats. I'm going to start sexting him, and you'd better keep your nose out of his phone."

Mark stood frozen, utterly dumbfounded, as Aria flashed a winning smile, blew me a playful kiss, and sauntered out of the room.

I chuckled, shaking my head.

"You're laughing?" Mark muttered, finally finding his voice. "You just signed yourself up for a handful of a fiancée. You're in for a long, long five years."

"I know," I replied, still smirking.

Mark sat down in the chair Aria had vacated, his expression turning serious. "Don't you see a pattern here?"'

"What do you mean?" I asked, leaning forward.

"Your life," he said, gesturing at me. "You don't just attract trouble anymore-you choose it. It's like you deliberately pick the hardest, messiest road every time. You really ought to see a doctor, man. I'm telling you."

I snorted. "Why aren't you on your way home yet? Your job here is done"

"You too!" Mark exclaimed