It Was Just A Contract Marriage Novel Novels & Stories

"No, Lulu. I won't let you meet Damien again." "You can't forbid me." "I'm your husband." "It's just a contract!" The words came out before I could stop them. The room suddenly felt very silent. "Contract," he repeated softly. I bit my lip. I had hurt him. I could see it from the way he clenched his fists at his sides, but I couldn't take back my words. Because it was the truth. This marriage was just a contract. Nothing more. "Then handle your own problem. I don't care," he said.

I accept out of spite, drinking it while Lucien works on his laptop like I'm not there. Thirty minutes in, I break the silence. "How many couples will be there?" "Eight, including us." "Do they all have real marriages?" His fingers pause on the keyboard. "Define real." "Marriages that started without contracts." "Most marriages are contracts, Mara. Some are just more honest about it." "That's bleak." "That's reality." He returns to typing. "James and Victoria Worthington married to merge family fortunes. Oliver Grant married his assistant to avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit. The Pattersons have an arrangement where he keeps a mistress and she keeps his credit cards."

he said carefully, “to really think you have a choice, Mrs. Cantrell.” The way he said my new last name made something twist unpleasantly in my chest. I lifted my chin. “Well maybe I do,” I shot back. “You said this marriage was a contract, not a prison sentence.” His gaze sharpened a little. “Yes,” he said. “A contract.” “And contracts usually involve mutual agreement.” Dominic placed the tablet down slowly on the table. Then he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows against the polished surface, fingers folding together. The movement was small but it made my stomach tighten for some reason.

God, those perfectly defined abs that I'd been fantasizing about just minutes ago. "Someone call an ambulance," one woman stage-whispered to her colleague. "I think I'm having a heart attack." "That's his wife he's carrying," someone else said. "Lucky bitch." My jaw clenched involuntarily. Lucky bitch. I was not feeling possessive. I wasn't. This was a contract marriage. It was a business arrangement, and it certainly didn't matter that other women were drooling over my contract husband's body. Except it did matter.

By page twenty-four, she looked angry. “Absolutely not.” “Maya.” “No. This is not a contract. This is a trap with letterhead.” “It’s standard for clients at this level.” “Standard for people who expect to ruin lives and pay invoices afterward.” Lena rubbed her forehead. “It’s one wedding.” “No, it’s not. You said it yourself. This is a merger wearing a veil.” That was the problem. Maya was right.

“No, what's not fair is me finding out like this. In public—with him!” Lyra pressed her lips together. They got to Daphne's black Range Rover and she unlocked it. She pushed down the headrest until it was almost flat, grabbed her shopping bag from Lyra and flung it to the backseat. She folded her legs on the chair and faced Lyra. “Start talking.” Lyra sat too and exhaled. “It's not what you think. It's just… a contract marriage.” Daphne stared. Then blinked. Then stared again. “Is this supposed to make it sound better?”

Sometimes, I even forgot this was supposed to be a contract marriage nothing more, nothing less. No matter what happened, I'd be free after a year... right? Lately, I had read so many short stories, novels, and even binge-watched a ton of movies about blind dates and contract marriages. Each had its own twist: the girl breaches the contract and is punished, or worse, falls hopelessly in love. Now, I desperately wished I had actually read the full contract. I had barely made it past few lines before skipping ahead to sign where my Damien pointed, too overwhelmed to care about the details.

“Lorenzo, how could you let this happen? You’re throwing everything away for someone who has already betrayed you.” “I didn’t throw anything away!” I shot back defensively. “Zia and I were never meant to be.” “Never meant to be?” Grandpa echoed incredulously. “You had a contract! You had a commitment!” Zia stepped forward, her chin held high. “That contract was never real for either of us. It was just a means to an end.” Henry scoffed from his seat. “And now you think marrying Raymond will fix everything? You’re making another mistake.”

She pulled a folder from the desk and handed it to me. “What’s this?” I asked, flipping it open. My stomach dropped. The marriage contract. “I reviewed the clauses and added some benefits,” she said coolly. “If you play your role well, we won’t have a problem.” I sneered. To the world, Natalie painted this union as a fairytale engagement, but reality was far less romantic: a three-year marriage contract. Nothing more. We were already legally registered; only the ceremony remained. “Benefits?” I scoffed. “Looks more like slavery with a bow on it.”

I raised a brow at him and gestured with my hand for him to continue. "One." He took a deep breath. "I had made it known at the beginning of our marriage that it was a purely business marriage, and I will be living my life as though I wasn't married to you. And you had agreed to it." My eyebrows pinched together as I took in this information. He took out a file from the bag he had brought and passed it to me. It was a contract. My marriage was a contract. I flipped through the pages with shaking hands, taking in as much information as I could.