CHAPTER 4: THE TERMS

Damon's POV

At ten thirty the next morning, Amelia Hart walked into my office carrying a folder and the expression of a woman prepared to fight a war. I liked her already.

“Good morning,” I said. “Let's not waste time pretending this is a normal meeting.” She dropped the folder onto my desk.

I glanced through it. “Should I be worried?” “Read it and find out.” I opened the folder. The first page contained a list of conditions written in neat handwriting.

Separate bedrooms, financial independence, no interference in personal decisions, no physical intimacy without mutual consent. And at the end, underlined twice, was one final condition.

When the year ends, I'm walk away away.

I looked up at her. “You've been busy.” “I had a sleepless night, thanks to you.”

“I'm sorry my marriage proposal ruined your beauty sleep.” “Don't flatter yourself, Blackwood.” I laughed. She did not.

“All right,” I said, putting the papers down. “Let's negotiate.”

“Good. First, I want to know exactly what I'm getting into. I won't marry you only to discover that your idea of a contract means I belong to you.”

“You don't belong to me, Amelia. You're agreeing to be my wife, not my property.”

Then we understand each other. Apparently. She sat back.

“Why do you need a wife?”

There it was. The question she had been holding back since yesterday.

My father wants to hand my company to my cousin unless I settle down with a 'suitable' socialite. I need a wife by the end of the month to secure my position. But I refuse to marry someone who only wants my money. I need someone with a brain."

"And Gavi?" Amelia asks.

"Gavi is a parasite. He's using my sister. If you marry me, you become a Blackwood. You get the power to stand up to him, and I get the satisfaction of knowing he has to sit at my dinner table and call you family."

“So I'm your way of telling your father to mind his business?”

Among other things. That's not particularly romantic.

Fortunately, romance isn't part of the agreement. “Good. I wouldn't want you getting confused.”

“Trust me, Miss Hart. I know the difference between a contract and a love story.” Why are you considering this?”

Look, I'm tired of watching Gavi decide what I deserve.”

That name changed something in the room.

She continued before I could respond.

“He called me last night. He offered me money to leave New York because my presence might embarrass him and Raven. After everything I did for him, he still thinks he can pay me to disappear.”

“And you want to prove him wrong?”

“No.”. I want to stop living as if his opinion matters. If I accept your offer, it will be because I choose to. Not because I want revenge, and certainly not because I want him jealous.

Okay then, we're starting from the same place,” I said. “Neither of us wants someone else controlling our future.”

We haven't finished negotiating.”She said. She pushed her list toward me.

“My work remains mine. My money remains mine. You don't dictate who I see, where I go, or what I do with my career. And when the year ends, I leave without having to beg you.”

“Agreed.”

“That was surprisingly easy.”

I picked up her list again. “You'll have a monthly allowance for household and personal expenses, separate from any income you earn. We'll agree on the amount and other financial details before signing.”

“I don't want to depend on your generosity.”

Just consider it a contractual obligation, not generosity.

“I have conditions too.”

“Of course you do.”

“You'll accompany me to important family functions. We'll present a united front in public, and neither of us will deliberately embarrass the other.”

“Reasonable. But I need advance notice. I'm not cancelling my plans every time your family decides to have dinner.”

“Agreed.”

And if your family insults me? They won't. I promise you that.

“Must be nice.”

Amelia was carrying the weight of a man who had spent three years making her feel that her contributions didn't matter. I wanted to tell her she would never have to feel that way with me.

But promises were cheap. I knew that. So I said, “You'll judge me by my actions.”

She did not argue about that. Instead, she gathered her papers. Send me the revised contract. I'll review everything before I sign. “Of course.”

She stood, then hesitated at the door.

“One more thing.”

Another condition?

“No.” She looked directly at me. “I need to know that you're not going to use this marriage to settle a score with Gavi or punish Raven.”

“I have no interest in punishing either of them through you. Whatever happened between you and Gavi is yours to deal with. Whatever happens between Raven and me is ours.”

“And your father?” “I'll handle my father.”

Alright then.

She reached for the door. Please, don't make me regret this.

Send me the contract.” “Tomorrow.” Tomorrow then.

She left, and I sat staring at the list of conditions she had brought into my office.

I had expected negotiation. I hadn't expected to enjoy every second of it.

Amelia challenged me without trying to impress me. She questioned my motives without pretending she wasn't interested. And when she smiled, even briefly, I found myself wanting to earn another one.

That was precisely the sort of complication I couldn't afford.

This marriage had a purpose. It had boundaries, a deadline, and an agreement that would protect us both. I intended to honour every word. But as I reached for my phone to contact my lawyer, I remembered Amelia's warning.

Don't make me regret it. I wondered whether the greater danger wasn't that she would regret marrying me.

It was that, after one year, I might be the one who couldn't bear to let her go.