CHAPTER 3: THE CONTRACT

The courier brought the contract the next day, thick as a novel and twice as humorless.

Clause 4: No discussing past relationships

Clause 7: Pre-approved dinner topics attached in Appendix C.

Clause 8: Forty-eight hours exit clause. No penalty, no explanation required.

Mira was glad that clause was in the contract. She had to read that twice, it oddly gave her a sense of relief. That she had an out even though she had no plans of using it.

Clause 9 ……..

Mira read that clause three times…

Hand-holding is permitted for photographic purposes only. No other contact may ensue without separate written consent.

Mira called Adrian.

"Clause nine," she immediately said the second he picked up the phone.

"Problem already with the terms?"

"You have a legal clause about hand-holding?"

"I have a legal clause about everything."

"That wasn't a no."

"It wasn't a yes, either." There was a pause on the line, the sound of slow pacing could be heard on his end of the line.

"Is it excessive?"

"It's thorough."

"I'll see you Friday, Mr. Cole." Mira said.

"Adrian."

"What?"

"If we are to make this a believable night, then we should refer to each other by our first names, don't you agree, Mira?"

Adrian hung up before she could argue.

She should have argued.

**************************

Bea texted that afternoon.

"How are you doing with the contract?"

"He has a legal clause for hand-holding."

"That sounds just right. Told you he is thorough."

"You told me that he wasn't insufferable. You didn't mention that he was this thorough."

"Being thorough is his love language, Mira. You'll see."

Mira stared at that last message, she wondered how much Bea knew before any of this even started.

***************************

Friday night and the car arrived. It was the kind of car that stopped traffic.

Literally.

When she arrived at the restaurant, he met her with a smile that had been practiced in front of the mirror before facing the boardroom and the press.

"You came."

"I don't breach contracts, Mr. Cole."

"Adrian," he corrected her and at the same time offered his arm. "I just thought you might negotiate a better contract."

"I had it at the back of my mind."

"What stopped you?"

"Curiosity," she admitted. "I'm afraid it's an occupational hazard."

"Mine too."

A flash came on from outside the restaurant, across the street, there were cameras poised like a held breath.

The maître d' addressed Adrian by his name and ignored Mira.

"This is Ms. Mira Santos," Adrian introduced her in a simple but firm tone.

The man's whole demeanor changed on the spot.

"Ms. Santos, welcome," the maître d' said with a slight nod.

"They'll talk about that for days," Mira murmured.

"What?"

"You introducing a woman by name instead of letting them guess."

"Let them. It's true."

They took longer than they should have at dinner, it ran long, long enough that Mira forgot that this was fake. This left a terrifying thought in her mind.

Mira decided to come back to reality by asking Adrian a question.

"Why Bea? Really?"

There was something that shifted behind his eyes. He was caught off guard.

"I hurt her," he answered. He paused.

Contemplating if he should continue.

"Not on purpose, I just…"

"When things get hard, I try to control things around me, rather than feeling them. I, unfortunately, did that to her, to us, until there wasn't an us left to control."

"Don't you ever wish you'd told her that back then? Instead of just letting her leave without an explanation?" Mira asked.

"Every single day since. It's why I write contracts like this."

"Once it's in writing, I can let a feeling go unspoken. Pretending it never happened."

He slowly turned away, a shadow fell on his face and it wasn't the light.

"That's a sad reason to write a hand-holding clause…." Mira said quietly.

"It's just efficient," he said. "It's the only way I know how to write nowadays."

"That's all I can say. The rest is hers to tell, if she wants to."

"That's more honest than I expected," Mira said quietly.

"Don't get used to it," he said but something in his voice said that he regretted saying too much.

"We should go," Adrian said but there was reluctance in his voice.

"The gala won't run itself. Even if I'm the one hosting."

"Just one more question," Mira said before he could stand. "Off the record."

"There is no record," Adrian replied. "That's clause two."

"Do you believe that this could actually work? Tonight, the gala, us? Or are we just two people betting against reality that the board won't notice that this is all fake?"

Adrian considered this question. Longer than she anticipated.

He slowly turned to Mira, his face different, not the face of a controlled man who had a clause for every situation.

"I think," he said slowly, "I've spent so long controlling every little thing in my life. So much so that I forgot what happens when I stop."

"I honestly don't know if this will work."

He was not looking directly at her, his voice low and soft.

"I do know one thing, I'd like to find out."

This wasn't the answer of a man reading from a contract.

This was a man who was not in control, a vulnerable man. Not an insufferable man.

It scared Mira more than any contract she'd ever signed.

What Mira didn't know, what neither of them knew, was that somewhere across the city, a rival with an old grudge against Adrian's family was already watching. And their fake relationship made them an easy target.