Chapter 2 Contract of power

Chapter 2: The Contract of Power

Amira's POV

The email hit her inbox at exactly 3:00 a.m.

Subject: Urgent Acquisition Terms – TaylorCorp

From: Leonardo Moretti

Attached: Private Contract – Amira Okoye

She blinked into the screen's glow, sleep retreating like a frightened child. Her fingers hesitated only a second before opening the attachment.

And just like that-her world tilted.

She read it once. Then again. A third time, slower. Each word slicing through denial, until her breath caught in her throat.

This wasn't just a business proposal.

It was personal. Intimate. Calculated.

A corporate lifeline disguised as a leash.

---

By noon, she stood in the elevator of Moretti Holdings, her reflection fractured in the mirrored walls. The contract burned a hole in her leather briefcase. Every instinct told her to run, but Amira Okoye didn't run. She faced fire. Even when it wore a designer suit and a devil's smirk.

The elevator doors opened to a penthouse office that looked like something out of a billionaire's fantasy-glass walls, ivory marble, black leather, gold accents. Impeccable. Cold. Just like its owner.

Leonardo Moretti stood behind a massive desk, the skyline stretching behind him like a crown. He didn't speak as she entered. Just watched her with unreadable eyes, his fingers steepled under his chin.

She tossed the contract onto the desk like a gauntlet.

"You have a lot of nerve, summoning me here."

He leaned back in his chair with a slow smile. "On the contrary, advocate Amira, I've given you a way out, One that saves your father's firm and protects your precious pride."

"By buying TaylorCorp and merging it with Moretti Holdings... if I marry you?" she snapped.

"Exactly," he said, unflinching. "On paper. Six months. We play the perfect couple. You get financial salvation. I get convenience-and a challenge."

She scoffed, pacing. "You want a fake marriage with the one woman who would rather stab you than kiss you."

His smile widened. "You wound me."

"Good."

He stood, slowly walking around the desk until he was in front of her. Too close. He always was.

"You say fake," he murmured. "But this ring-" he reached into his pocket and held up a black velvet box, snapping it open to reveal a solitaire diamond that caught the sunlight like fire "-is real. The cameras will be real. The press. The public."

"And what happens behind closed doors, Leonardo?" Her voice dropped, low and dangerous. "You expect me to be yours in every way?"

"I expect you to stand beside me. Smile when needed. Look beautiful. Be obedient-publicly. Privately..." His eyes roamed her face. "You can fight me all you want."

She stared at the diamond. Cold. Heavy. Beautiful-just like the cage it represented.

"You could have had anyone," she said, her voice quieter now. "There are women who would crawl to be your wife."

"I don't want them," he said. "They don't challenge me. You do. You make me bleed. I want that fire-on my side. In my bed."

She slapped the velvet box shut. "This is extortion. A golden trap."

"It's velvet," he said with a grin. "And you'd rather burn in it than let TaylorCorp fall."

Her jaw clenched. He knew. He'd done his homework. The debt, the impending lawsuits, the vultures circling her father's legacy-Leonardo had cornered her perfectly.

"You can say no," he said softly. "But if you do, your father's company collapses. Your employees scatter. Your name, your reputation-it all dies. Or... you say yes. Become Mrs. Moretti. And destroy me from within, if you dare."

Her heart thundered. Fury, humiliation, and a strange flicker of exhilaration twisted in her chest.

She stared at him. "If I do this, I'll never love you."

His gaze sharpened. "I don't want love. I want loyalty. Fire. A woman who won't flinch when the world turns sharp. You."

She hated that part of her-the part that respected him for playing the game so ruthlessly. For seeing her as an equal opponent. She hated that she understood his power play... because it mirrored her own.

She lifted her chin. "Six months. No touching."

He smirked. "Terms accepted. For now."

---

Three days later, the courthouse loomed ahead like a tomb. Amira adjusted her cream suit and straightened her spine. The diamond ring on her finger glinted in the sunlight-too large, too bright, too much.

Paparazzi crowded the steps. Cameras flashed like lightning. Voices barked questions.

She smiled.

Because she wasn't the victim here.

She was the storm.

Leonardo stood beside her in a charcoal suit, crisp and composed. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close for the cameras. The flashbulbs intensified.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Moretti," he whispered against her ear. "Now you're mine."

Her smile deepened.

"Not yet."

His fingers tightened on her hip. She didn't flinch.

Let the world believe this was a fairytale.

Because one day-she'd tear it down from the inside.

And he wouldn't see it coming..