The Fine Print of Forever

Saphira POV 

---

I’d always believed in ironclad contracts. They were the shield I used to protect everything I’d built the reason my empire stood tall when others had crumbled. But sitting in Caelum Drayke’s private office, a room lined with leather-bound books and filled with the smell of expensive whiskey and raw power, I realized this wasn’t a shield. This was a trap.

And I’d just signed my life away.

The pen in my hand trembled, and I forced myself to still it. My signature gleamed in black ink at the bottom of a stack of legal documents that would, for the next six months, bind me to a man I’d sworn I would never kneel to.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Drayke,” Caelum said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. His voice was velvet and steel, calm as though he hadn’t just rewritten both our lives.

Mrs. Drayke.

I hated how that sent a shiver down my spine.

I tucked the pen back into its holder, lifting my chin. “Don’t flatter yourself. This is strictly business.”

His smirk was maddening. “Of course it is.”

His office was more intimidating than most boardrooms I’d ever stepped foot in. Tall windows overlooked the New York skyline, the late evening light painting everything in hues of gold and gray. A massive desk separated us, carved from some dark wood that looked older than both of us combined. Behind him hung a painting I recognized instantly Caravaggio’s Judith Beheading Holofernes.

Subtle.

“You know, a less self absorbed man might have chosen something less ominous to hang in his office,” I said, trying to sound bored.

“Why? It suits the mood,” he replied, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He gestured to the crystal decanter, raising a brow in invitation.

I shook my head. Drinking with Caelum felt like baring my throat to a predator.

He chuckled softly and leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “You should get used to hearing my name next to yours. You signed the papers. We’re married at least in the eyes of the law and the media.”

His words weren’t news, but the weight of them made my chest tighten. Married. It was a title I’d never wanted not like this. Not with him.

“Then let’s get one thing straight.” I crossed my legs, deliberately calm, though my pulse was hammering. “I agreed to this to protect Vale Enterprises. You want to crush Lucien’s little vendetta against you, and I need the shield of your name to keep him from dismantling everything I’ve built. Fine. But this doesn’t mean you own me.”

Caelum’s gaze slid lazily over me, dark and unreadable. “Oh, Saphira. I’d never claim to own you.” He paused, lips curling. “But I do enjoy the illusion.”

I hated that my stomach flipped at his words.

This man was dangerous in ways I’d only begun to understand. I’d known him as a rival in the corporate world for years a shark in a tailored suit, known for hostile takeovers and cold, calculated moves. I hadn’t realized just how sharp his teeth were until I agreed to this arrangement.

The contract had been brutal: six months of marriage, with an ironclad clause ensuring my loyalty and silence. Public appearances together. Shared residence. No scandal allowed. And if either of us breached the agreement? A financial penalty so devastating it would ruin even me.

“I want to see the rest of the house,” I said, pushing to my feet.

Caelum’s lips quirked in amusement. “It’s your house too, technically.”

“Temporarily,” I shot back.

He stood, towering over me. He was broad-shouldered, his suit tailored to perfection, the faint scent of sandalwood and something darker clinging to him. I hated that I noticed.

He gestured toward the door. “Then let me give my wife the grand tour.”

---

The penthouse was more like a palace. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the entire living space, revealing the glittering Manhattan skyline. The décor was minimalist and cold, dominated by steel, glass, and dark wood. It was beautiful but impersonal, a reflection of the man himself.

Caelum showed me the dining room with its twelve seat marble table, the sleek chef’s kitchen, the library that smelled of leather and cedar. Every room whispered money and control.

Then he led me to the master suite.

The moment I stepped inside, I stopped cold.

The room was a study in contrast. The walls were a deep charcoal, the bed a massive king sized monstrosity draped in black silk. A massive chandelier hung overhead, glittering like ice. But what caught my attention wasn’t the luxury it was the intimacy. There were framed photographs on a side table, a rare softness in a man so cold.

A boy, no more than six, smiling wide as a younger Caelum held him on his shoulders. Another photo, this time of an older woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, holding the boy close.

Caelum noticed me staring. “My mother,” he said quietly, his tone shifting. “And my brother.”

I glanced at him, startled by the softness in his voice.

“They’re gone now,” he added, tone clipped, walls snapping back into place.

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off with a smirk. “Don’t read into it, Saphira. This isn’t a romance novel.”

“Good,” I said, forcing a cool smile. “Because I’m not here for happily ever afters.”

His gaze lingered on me, unreadable. “No. You’re here for survival.”

---

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

The city’s glow filtered through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in gold. I lay on one side of the massive bed, painfully aware of Caelum’s presence beside me. He hadn’t offered to sleep elsewhere. He didn’t have to. This was part of the image: the happy couple.

I turned onto my side, trying not to stare at his broad back.

“You’re restless,” he murmured without turning.

“I don’t know how you sleep like a corpse when our lives are about to become tabloid fodder,” I muttered.

He chuckled softly, a low sound that made my stomach twist. “Practice. You’ll get used to it.”

“I doubt it.”

There was a pause. Then he turned, and I felt his gaze on me in the dim light. “You’re stronger than you think, Saphira.”

I scoffed, but his words lingered.

---

The next morning was a blur of stylists, photographers, and publicists. Caelum and I had a joint press release to announce our “surprise wedding.” The tabloids were already buzzing with speculation, and Lucien my former business partner turned enemy was likely gnashing his teeth somewhere.

“Smile like you’re in love,” Caelum murmured as a photographer adjusted us for a shot. His hand rested on my waist, his thumb tracing slow circles through the silk of my dress.

I forced a dazzling smile for the cameras. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I enjoy winning,” he whispered, lips brushing my ear.

For a moment, I forgot we were in a room full of cameras. The way he looked at me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve made heat pool low in my stomach.

Dangerous. This was dangerous.

---

Later, when the photographers finally left, I retreated to the study to escape the chaos. The scent of whiskey lingered in the air, along with the faint memory of Caelum’s hand on my waist. I hated that I could still feel it.

I poured myself a glass of water, my hands shaking slightly.

This was all too much. The fake marriage, the constant scrutiny, Caelum’s intense presence it was suffocating.

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear him enter until his voice cut through the silence.

“You’re not used to being out of control, are you?”

I turned to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, his tie undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked devastatingly good, and I hated that I noticed.

“Control is an illusion,” I said coolly. “You should know that better than anyone.”

He smirked. “Maybe. But I’ve built an empire on illusions. And now, so have you.”

I set down my glass, meeting his gaze. “This doesn’t scare me.”

“Good,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Because it should.”

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at it, and something in his expression shifted just slightly, but enough for me to notice.

“What is it?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away, just studied the screen, his jaw tightening.

Then he looked at me, his voice deceptively calm. “We have a problem.”

---

Caelum turned the screen toward me, and my heart stopped.

There, splashed across the gossip site’s front page, was a grainy photo of me taken last night.

Not with Caelum.

But with Lucien.

And beneath it, a headline that made my blood run cold

“Mrs. Drayke’s Secret Rendezvous: Is the Marriage Already a Lie?”