Finalizing

When I arrive at Damian’s office building, one of the receptionists, a lady with sleek dark hair and red nails, stands and offers me a polite nod.

“I’ll let Mr. Westwood know you’re here,” she says, her voice smooth like velvet.

“Thank you.” I sit down in the reception area, taking in the sight. The walls are a deep grey, adorned with tasteful art that seems expensive.The furniture is sleek, a mixture of polished chrome and soft leather.

After a while, the receptionist returns with a smile.

"You may go in now.” I rise and walk towards the double oak doors. I knock once before pushing them open.

There he is, Damian Westwood. Feet casually propped on his mahogany desk, his chair slightly reclined. The first two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, revealing a peek of ink on his chest. He has a tattoo?

He gestures lazily towards the seat opposite him. I sit down, maintaining a composed expression. I hold back the urge to scan his office, the modern bookshelves. I don't want him thinking I'm impressed. Instead, I cross my legs, place my bag on my lap, and tap my fingers against it.

"It’s common courtesy to greet, you know,” he says, his voice low, laced with a mocking edge.

“Then why didn’t you?” I snap, glaring at him. He rises slowly, rounds the desk, and sits on the edge, leaning in.

“This sort of behaviour could attract…punishment,” he says. I straighten my shoulders and meet his gaze head-on. No way was I letting him shake me.

He holds my stare for a heartbeat longer before standing and returning to his chair.

"Let’s get this over with.”

“Right. We’re going over the rules and agreements before we put pen to paper.”

“So…what would you like to lay down?” He chuckles.

“Ladies first.”

“Fine. First of all, no Intimacy, whatsoever. It's a contract marriage, not a real one. No expectations of a physical relationship.

Second of all, a public appearance clause. We maintain a united front in public. Events, family gatherings, corporate functions.

Third of all, separate living spaces. We will not share a bedroom.

Fourth of all, no Interference in personal affairs. I handle my life; you handle yours. No meddling in each other’s personal relationships outside the contract.

Fifth of all, the duration of the marriage is just one year. After that, we part ways with no strings attached.

And lastly, mutual respect: no insults. This is a business arrangement,” I blabbed in one breath.

“Your turn,” I said.

He leans back, that devilish smirk still on his face.

"Okay. So, in as much as this is staging, we have to be honest with one another. As long as it concerns the marriage. Anything else is irrelevant. Also, there'd be an emergency clause; that is, in case of unforeseen circumstances, we back each other up.

Oh yeah. We'd have to show the public how ‘deeply in love' we are with each other. I do expect you to play the perfect wife in public, hand-holding, small gestures when necessary. You’re an actress. Act. Yeah, I think that's all. For now." he states.

Public Affection Clause? I'm supposed to display public affection?

Yeah, I'll definitely cringe out. I think mostly because I’m a little bit shy. I laughed to myself. Who’d believe that the only daughter of a business mogul was a shy girl? The only person who knows that side of me is Aiden, my ex.

But then… public affection to a man I’d rather hit on the head with my heels? Oh good lord.

“Um, Damian,” I started.

“ You've started calling me by my first name. Getting comfortable already?” He raised an eyebrow and had that smirk on his face that I so much wanted to slap off.

"About the public affection…to what extent does it have to be?”

"What extent can you take?”

“I could hold hands…”

“That’s the bare minimum, Rachel. We’d hold hands, of course. Lock arms, even. You might have to sit on my lap. Give me a kiss on the cheek. That’s vice versa.”

I felt my whole body heat up. My face was turning red; I was sure of it. I heard him chuckle.

"What’s so funny?”

“Look at you. You’re red as the color itself. This is going to be interesting,” he said, wearing that irritating smirk. I scoff.

"That’s what public affection entails, Rachel. And it’s necessary if you want to keep up a believable front,” he adds, his tone growing serious.

“So…it’s settled then. I’ll have the contract ready by tomorrow"

Without waiting for any further exchange, I stand, give him a curt nod, and leave. The moment I slid into my car, I gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“You’ve gone and done it this time, Rachel.”

I drive to my office with a swirl of mixed emotions clawing at me.

By midday, Layla comes around.

“I do have someone in mind,” she says eyes glinting. I shoot her a suspicious look.

“Who?”

“Aiden.”

“No way, Layla.”

“Oh, come on. He’s still in love with you.”

“And I’m not,” I deadpanned.

"Anyways, he’s flying back to Los Angeles on Thursday."

“What did you do?”

“I just told him you’re still single so maybe he still had a chance.” She gives a sweet, unapologetic smile.

“Why did you do that?!" I slump back into my chair.

"Well, you’ve got until the day after tomorrow to figure it out,” she says, standing.

"Layla, I want to kill you.”

"Awwn. Love you too” she says as she laughed. As soon as she leaves, I grab my phone and call Courtney. “Get me pizza. Please.”

Because if I'm going to drown in this mess, I might as well do it with a slice of pepperoni in hand.