Chapter 2 The Proposal Clause

The car ride was silent-except for the engine's purr and the low thrum of bass from Damien's Bluetooth playlist, some ambient instrumental that made my nerves feel exposed. I sat in the back of his matte-black Maybach, wrapped in a spare coat he'd pulled from the trunk. It swallowed me whole.

The coat smelled like him-like smoked leather and some expensive, infuriating cologne I couldn't name.

I didn't speak, not until the champagne wore off and the cold shock of reality began to claw through the haze.

"You didn't have to save me back there," I muttered, curling my fingers around the coat sleeves. "I was doing just fine embarrassing myself."

Damien didn't turn around. He drove like he did everything else-smooth, controlled, calculated.

"You weren't embarrassing yourself," he said. "You were branding yourself. As angry. Untouchable. And free."

I rolled my eyes at the window. "And you thought, 'Hey, what a great time to recruit a new fake girlfriend.'"

His voice was almost amused. "You weren't my first choice."

"Charming."

"But you are the most motivated," he added. "And the one person Daniel will never be able to look at without remembering what he did."

The way he said Daniel-detached, acidic-made it sound like a curse.

I finally asked the question I'd been chewing on since the flames back in the parking lot.

"Why did he do it?"

Damien didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched until I started to think he'd ignore me altogether.

Then: "Because he could."

I stared at his reflection in the mirror. His jaw was tense. Cold.

"Daniel's never been told no," Damien continued. "He doesn't value what he doesn't have to fight for. And you - you were... too easy."

I flinched.

"Not like that," he added quickly. "You're brilliant. Beautiful. He didn't deserve you. But you handed him your loyalty without asking what it was worth. That made you a toy, not a threat."

"And you think you're different?"

"I know I am."

The car pulled into a private parking garage beneath a downtown high-rise. I recognized it immediately. Blackwood Holdings Headquarters.

He threw the car into park, then turned in his seat to look at me fully for the first time since the flames.

"This is where it begins," he said. "Where we make him watch."

I frowned. "Watch what?"

"You and me. Together. Publicly. Intimately. Strategically."

I narrowed my eyes. "Are we sleeping together in this little revenge fantasy of yours?"

His gaze didn't waver. "Not unless you want to."

I scoffed, but there was heat rising in my neck.

He opened the door. "Come upstairs. Let's set the terms."

-

The office wasn't an office. It was an empire in glass and marble and obsidian chrome. Damien led me into his penthouse suite at the top of the building, the floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting a city drunk on power.

A bar sat to the left, fully stocked with liquors I couldn't afford and didn't recognize. A fireplace glowed low beneath a massive abstract painting that probably cost more than my apartment.

I hovered by the entrance while he poured two glasses of something dark and smooth.

"This isn't a normal fake relationship," he said, handing me a tumbler.

I didn't take it. "Define 'normal' for me, Mr. Blackwood."

He shrugged, setting both glasses down. "This isn't about making Daniel jealous. It's about making him sweat. Break. Watch everything he stole become yours."

That caught my attention.

"You said I could get CarterCloud back."

"I didn't say it would be easy. But yes. With the right exposure, the right evidence, the right... narrative, we can force the board to audit everything Daniel touched. And if you're by my side when that happens, as my partner-romantic and professional-we'll have leverage."

"You want me to work here?"

"I want you to run a division here."

I choked. "You're out of your mind."

"I'm giving you a war chest, Lena. Not just money-access. Resources. A stage. If we do this right, we won't just hurt Daniel. We'll erase him."

He walked to a sleek black desk and pulled out a contract.

"Three months," he said. "Public appearances. Co-leadership of a new Blackwood Innovations tech branch-yours in name, mine in funding. We'll attend events. Kiss for cameras. Sleep in the same suite when necessary."

I blinked. "You want me to live here?"

"It'll sell the illusion."

I folded my arms. "And what do you get out of it?"

His gaze sharpened. "My name back. My seat on the board. And the satisfaction of watching Daniel self-destruct."

I studied the document.

There were clauses for compensation-very generous. Privacy protections. Performance expectations.

And one line that made me freeze:

Clause 17.3: Under no circumstances may either party develop romantic feelings during the contracted period.

I pointed to it. "This is ridiculous. You can't legislate feelings."

"I can try. We're not doing hearts and flowers, Lena. This is mutually-assured destruction."

"And when it ends?"

He leaned in, his voice low and knife-edged. "Then we walk away. You get your life back. I get my company. And Daniel gets nothing."

Something in me-bitter, broken, bold-wanted to say yes.

But I'd been someone's pawn before.

So I raised my chin and said, "Fine. But I want to add my own clause."

He raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"If I decide you're lying to me-or using me beyond the scope of this agreement-I walk. No penalties. No strings."

A slow smile tugged at his mouth.

"Done."

He extended a pen.

And just like that, I signed my soul to the devil's older, darker brother.