The Contract.

Aurora sat at her desk in the Brooklyn office she shared with Maya, staring at a spreadsheet that had stopped making sense twenty minutes ago. The numbers blurred into gray lines. Outside, rain tapped against the window in a rhythm that matched the ache banging behind her eyes.

Maya walked in soon enough with two coffees and set one down hard enough to spill on the table. "You look like someone killed your dog."

"I don't have a dog."

"You know what I mean." Maya leaned against the desk. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun that made her look like a lawyer even though she handled operations. "How did it go? The presentation at Vale Industries"

"It went fine."

"Fine?" Maya's eyes narrowed. "You stood in front of twelve executives and Lucian Vale and it went fine?"

Aurora picked up her coffee, It was too hot so she set it down again. "I was good. They asked questions. I answered them."

"And?" She pushed.

"And nothing, it was no big deal, they'll send a decision by end of day."

Maya studied her for a long moment. "Your blouse is inside out."

Aurora looked down. It wasn't inside out. But it was wrinkled, and there was a faint bruise on her collarbone that she had failed to cover completely. She pulled her blazer higher to cover it.

"Something happened between you too," Maya said It wasn't a question.

"Don't."

"Aurora."

"I said don't." Aurora's voice came out sharper than she intended. She softened it. "It's handled. I am sure the deal will come through."

Maya didn't look convinced, but she let it go. She always let it go, which was why she was the only person Aurora trusted with her life. "Well. While you were being handled, I got a call from Henderson Manufacturing. They want to expand the retainer."

"That's our biggest client."

"Was about to be bigger."

Aurora felt a small spark of relief. At least something was going right. She forced herself to focus on the spreadsheet, to pretend that Lucian Vale was just another name on a long list of men she had outworked.

Her phone buzzed. It was an email with no subject. She knew the sender before she opened it.

It read; My office. Three o'clock. The contract is ready. Don't be late.

~L

She stared at the screen until Maya cleared her throat.

"Bad news?"

"No, it's just him. It's just Mr. Vale"

Maya's expression darkened. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Aurora almost said yes, maybe with Maya around they woul. Ms be decent enough to converse without the kissing and his big strong hands inside her panties. The word sat on her tongue, heavy and tempting to say, but this was her fight, she wanted to pull up and by her self and strength turn him down and win the deal. It was a mess she had gotten into by herself and it was her body that couldn't stop responding to the wrong man.

"I'll handle it," she said more to herself than to Maya who didn't even believe her.

She did not even believe herself.

***

She arrived at Vale Industries at 2:45pm. The security guard nodded at her like she belonged there, he was probably informed that she was coming. The elevator rose with her and stoped at the forty-ninth floor, the hallway was quiet.

Lucian's secretary was not at her desk so Aurora walked to his office door and knocked.

"Come in."

He stood by the window with his back to her, phone pressed to his ear. He wore a black sweater that clung to his shoulders in a way that made her think of the rooftop, of rain, and of his skillful mouth. She forced her eyes to the carpet to think of anything else.

"Send the revised numbers by five," he said into the phone. "And Marcus? Don't push her on the timeline. She was right."

He hung up and turned. His gaze moved over her slowly, taking in the gray trousers she had worn instead of the skirt, the plain white shirt, the hair pulled back so tight it hurt her. He looked at her like she was naked anyways and a part of her loved that. She hated that part if herself.

"Sit," he said.

"I'll stand."

He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Still at war, then."

"Always." She said sounding like a child. 

He moved to his desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. The position was casual but his posture was coiled, ready. "The board approved your proposal. The contract is yours."

Aurora felt a rush of triumph so sharp it made her dizzy. She had done it, she had beaten him at his own game, had forced him to see her as an equal.

"Congratulations," he said. "Now I need something else." He said making her triumph feel less important.

The triumph faded. "Excuse me?"

"Japanese investors, The Tanaka Group. They're old money makers with an obsession for family and old values. They don't sign with companies run by single men who sleep around. They think those without a family cannot understand the need for urgency with their business, they only sign with family." He paused. "I need a fiancée and she must be Convincing, it's temporary mporary. Six weeks, maybe two months."

Aurora laughed. It burst out of her, loud and real, echoing off the glass walls. "You want me to pretend to be your fiancée?"

"I want you to be my fiancée in every room that matters, dinners, meetings all of it including a trip to Tokyo." His voice was level, businesslike, as if he were discussing a delivery schedule. "In exchange, your f*e doubles. And when the merger closes, you walk away with your reputation and a check that funds your consultancy for three years."

She stopped laughing. "No."

"Aurora-"

"No." She stepped toward him, her hands shaking with anger. "I am not a prop. I am not someone you can dress up and parade around because your investors have outdated ideas about morality. Hire an actress, Hire one of the women who actually wants to sleep with you."

"I don't trust them."

"And you trust me?"

His eyes held hers. "I trust that you hate me enough to be honest. An actress would fall in love with the money. I know you won't. You'll play the part, take the payment, and leave exactly when I tell you to."

It was the most insulting thing anyone had ever said to her. It was also, she realized with sickening clarity, probably true.

"Find someone else," she said.

"I already looked." He pushed off the desk and moved toward her. She held her ground, her chin up, her heart hammering. "There is no one else who can walk into a room and make me look like a changed man. You challenge me, you argue and you have this way you look at me like you want to set me on fire." He stopped inches away. "That's the point, Aurora. They need to believe I've been tamed."

"You're not tameable."

"Then we'll both be acting. I have no problem with that."

She turned to leave. His hand caught her wrist gently, Just enough to stop her.

"Walk away from this," he said quietly, "and I acquire Miller Consultancy. I will not destroy it, I'll absorb it. You'll become a division of Vale Industries. You'll report to me. Every day. Every decision I make will be to spite you, I can be petty when I don't get what I want."

She stared at him, she knew not to put pettiness above him. "You wouldn't."

"I don't make empty threats." His thumb moved against her pulse, a small betrayal of gentleness. "You have twenty-four hours to agree."

She pulled her wrist free. "Go to hell."

She walked out, her legs carried her down the hallway, past the empty secretary's desk, into the elevator that smelled like his cologne. She wanted to cry, she wouldn't cry, she promised herself. She pressed her forehead against the cool metal wall and breathed until the doors opened.

***

The call came at eight o'clock.

Aurora was in her apartment, sitting on the floor with a glass of wine she didn't want, staring at her father's watch on the coffee table. The phone rang it was Henderson Manufacturing one of the companies she consulted for.

"Ms. Miller." It was Richard Henderson himself, not his assistant. That was never good. "I'm afraid we need to dissolve our agreement. Effective immediately."

Aurora set her wine down. "Richard, we've worked together for two years. What's this about?"

"A change in direction, nothing personal." He said behind the phone.

"It feels personal."

He paused, then, carefully said "Sometimes business decisions come from above, Aurora you should understand."

She understood, she understood perfectly.

She hung up and sat in the dark. Henderson was forty percent of her revenue. Without him, she couldn't make payroll. She couldn't pay rent on the Brooklyn office. She couldn't survive the quarter of the year.

Above. He had said above.

She picked up her phone and scrolled to Lucian's email. Her thumb hovered over the reply button. She typed four words.

"You manipulative son of a..."

She deleted it then typed again.

"I need the contract in writing. Every term. No verbal agreements."

His reply came in under a minute.

"Come to the penthouse. Midnight."

She looked at the clock. It was 8:15. She had three hours and forty-five minutes to decide whether she hated him more than she needed to survive.

At 11:30 she was standing outside his building in the same gray trousers and white shirt, no makeup, her hair still pulled back. The doorman recognized her and waved her through. The elevator opened directly into the penthouse.

Lucian stood in the kitchen pouring whiskey. He wore sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that looked like it had been washed a hundred times. He looked younger like this. Less like a weapon and like and ideal man seen in movies.

"You came," he said.

"I didn't have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice. You just chose the one that keeps your company alive." He pushed a glass across the counter. She didn't take it. "The contract is on the table. Read it. Every clause protects you, I ensured that. I can't touch Miller Consultancy without your signature. I can't alter the terms. And the engagement ends the day the Tanaka deal closes."

She walked to the table. The contract was thick, bound in a blue folder. She flipped through it, not really reading, her eyes catching phrases like independent contractor and non-exclusive and termination at will.

"Why me?" she asked without looking up.

"Because you're the only person who looks at me like I'm real."

She laughed, but it sounded fake even like mockery. "I look at you like you're a monster."

"Exactly." He moved to stand beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. "Everyone else sees the money, the name. You see the man who took something from you. Even if you won't tell me what."

Her hands stilled on the paper. For a moment she thought he knew. She thought he had figured out that Aurora Miller was Aurora King, that she was here for revenge, that she had let him touch her while planning his destruction.

But his face was open, curious, almost vulnerable. He didn't know, he was guessing trying hard to figure it all out.

"Sign it," he said softly. "Play the part, take the money. Hate me the whole time if you need to."

She picked up the pen, her hand didn't shake. She signed her name in three places, each stroke feeling like a surrender and a declaration at the same time.

Lucian took the folder and set it aside. Then he reached out and touched her face, his fingers brushing her cheek with a gentleness that made her want to scream.

"Welcome to the war you spoke about," he said.

She stepped back. "This isn't war it's business."

"Then why are you still here?"

She didn't have an answer. She turned and walked to the elevator, pressing the button with more force than necessary. The doors opened. She stepped inside.

"Aurora."

She looked at him. He stood in the center of his penthouse, the contract in one hand, whiskey in the other, looking like a king who had just claimed another piece of territory.

"Tomorrow we shop for a ring," he said. "Something big enough to convince a room full of old men."

The doors closed then descended in silence, her cheek still burning from his touch, her name still drying in ink on his contract.

She had sold herself to the enemy. She had done it to survive snd somewhere in the dark, traitorous part of her heart, she was already wondering what he would look like when he slid the ring onto her finger.

That part of her couldn't wait.