3. TERMS

JENETA’S POV

I knew this wasn't dinner. It was a transaction.

Nonso sat across from me, back straight with a pretended composure, but his eyes gleamed with a hunger I had never seen before.

Not for me but for what this dinner promised. For what he believed it could buy. He was too far gone to stop.

How could I tell him that one night, one night could ruin us both? Maybe he had more faith than I did. Or maybe I was the only one who still saw the abyss waiting beneath our feet.

Jinhai reached into his briefcase and drew out a thin folder. He slid it across the table, the paper whispering against the linen.

“This is the contract,” he said smoothly. “One month with your wife, and you get a house, a car, the CFO’s position, and ten million dollars.”

For a moment, the words didn’t register, and then it hit me, my head snapped up. “A month?”

Jinhai turned toward me, his brown eyes were heartless. The corners of his mouth lifted just slightly, not enough to be called a smile.

“Why?” he asked softly. “Your husband didn’t tell you, Jeneta?”

The way he said my name was way too tender and it made my skin prickle. There was something unsettling in that tone, like a secret amusement only he understood. His gaze burned through me mercilessly.

Oh, God. He looked like the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about.

The devil wasn’t red and horned. He was calm, breathtakingly beautiful, and sitting across from me in a three-piece suit, offering to buy my body like a luxury item.

My brow furrowed, confusion and dread knotting inside me. Nonso said it would be one night. Just one. But a month?

I turned to him. “Nonso?”

He didn’t look at me. His eyes stayed glued to the contract, scanning each line as though reading salvation. Then, without hesitation, he lifted his head and said, “That would be great.”

My world went still.

First, I hadn’t agreed to any of this.

Second, how could they sit there deciding what to do with my body, my life, as if I were furniture to be loaned out?

It was sickening. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t even find my voice.

A house. A car. Ten million dollars. And a title.

It was everything Nonso had ever dreamed of everything his parents back in Nigeria would brag about to their friends. And it was everything that would break me.

I lowered my head, blinking hard, forcing the tears to retreat. My chest felt tight, and every breath was shallow and shaky.

Then Jinhai spoke again with his voice low. “My terms,” he began.

My head whipped up.

His gaze locked on mine, unblinking. And I knew whatever came next would shatter the last pieces of who I was.

“The contractor,” he continued, eyes shifting briefly to Nonso before returning to me, “does not have a say during activities and must do everything the contractor asks. If not, the contract becomes invalid.”

The words slid out of him cleanly, coldly, no hesitation, no emotion. I could almost hear the scratch of a pen across paper, sealing my fate before I’d even spoken.

My throat tightened. Activities. He didn’t say sex, didn’t need to. The word hung between us anyway, thick and heavy.

He leaned back. “The contractor's wife will be mine for one month. No going back on your word.”

He paused, his gaze drifting over my face, lingering in a way that made me shiver.

“She will be with me at all times, but…” his mouth twitched slightly, “she may see her husband if she wishes.”

If she wishes. As if I were choosing this.

I gripped my dress under the table, nails digging into the fabric to keep from trembling.

Jinhai continued, every word sounding like a decree, not a proposal or anything at all. It felt as if he was in control of my world suddenly. “She will dress how I ask, including in the bedroom. Travel with me whenever I require. Be at my service.”

Each condition was another chain, another piece of my dignity slipping away. I should stop it, but I couldn’t bear to ruin it for Nonso.

He poured himself another glass of wine, his tone light, almost casual now as though he were reading weather forecasts instead of dictating ownership of a woman’s body. My goddamned body.

“Failure to comply,” he added, “comes with a penalty of twenty million dollars.”

Twenty million. My head spun. That was more than we’d ever see in our lifetime. This money was tied to my obedience, to my silence, to my humiliation.

Then, he stopped speaking. For a moment, the world felt utterly still. Jinhai looked at me and the chill in his eyes could’ve frozen fire.

“I don’t do romance,” he said quietly, leaning slightly forward. “I fuck.”

The bluntness of it cracked through the air like a whip. My pulse stuttered, and my breath caught in my throat.

“No falling in love.”

The final words dropped like lead between us.

And that was when Nonso’s head snapped toward me sharply and defensively as though he needed to see whether I’d heard what he just sold me into. His eyes searched mine, but there was nothing left to say. He had made his choice.

Jinhai leaned back in his seat, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if watching the two of us unravel amused him.

I wanted to scream, to overturn the table, to tear the contract apart but I sat there, perfectly still, my heart bleeding behind a composed face.

Because at that moment, I understood something cruel and final. My life, my body no longer belonged to me. Maybe it began when I let Nonso pay my tuition f*e.

Jinhai smiled faintly, sliding the final page toward Nonso. “Sign at the bottom,” he said. “Both of you.”

The pen rolled toward me.