Trapped in Ink

CLARA

My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I sank deeper into the heavy, leather-bound chair.

"So, you two will announce your engagement on Saturday," Gideon stated. His usual playful, easygoing demeanor had completely vanished, replaced by a sharp, lawyerly seriousness that made the air in the room feel incredibly thin. "He’ll get you a ring before then, and in exactly two weeks, you’ll be married."

Gideon's gaze flicked seamlessly between the two of us. "Good enough?"

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before offering a stiff nod. Before I could even begin to process the breakneck speed of this insane timeline, Gideon casually dropped a massive, logistical bombshell.

"All right then. You’ll be moving in with him on Sunday. Get your things packed."

I completely lost my composure. The shock burst out of me into the quiet room. "Wait—what do you mean, move in together?"

I hadn't even factored that nightmare into the equation when I agreed to this ridiculous charade.

Gideon raised a perfectly sculpted brow. "Well, every married couple lives together, don’t they?"

I glanced sideways at Mr. Can't-Stop-Looking-Irritated. Judging by his rigid posture and the way he looked like he had just been physically slapped across the face, it was abundantly clear that my boss hadn't considered the cohabitation part of this deal either.

"I, uh, didn't think of that," I muttered blindly.

Gideon chuckled at our mutual, poorly disguised horror. He smoothly slid a thick, intimidating legal contract across the polished wood of the desk toward me.

"Like I said, you'll be married for exactly three years. You're strictly not allowed to be in a romantic or physical relationship with anyone else during that time." Gideon paused, letting the weight of the rules settle. "Now, onto compensation. You’ll be paid one million dollars immediately upon signing these papers, and another million paid out when the grueling three years are officially complete."

My eyes widened involuntarily. A million now, a million later. The sheer volume of wealth practically knocked the wind out of me. It was a shockingly increased offer from what had initially been thrown around.

"This is..." I fumbled blindly for words, staring down at the ink on the page as if the zeroes might magically disappear if I blinked.

"Too little?"

Roman finally spoke for the very first time since laying down his aggressive rules. I glanced up at him, and for a fleeting, dangerous second, I was forced to acknowledge his sheer, undeniable masculinity. He was tall—over six-foot-two—and strikingly handsome, possessing an aura of immense, suffocating power. With his piercing hazel eyes, thick dark hair, and a razor-sharp jawline that looked like it had been violently carved from marble, he was devastating to look at.

It was just an absolute tragedy that a man who looked like a literal god possessed the inner personality of a rabid, starved wolf. And worse, he consistently saved the absolute worst of his vicious bite just for me.

"Clara." Gideon's voice quickly snapped me out of my distracted, embarrassing daze.

I yanked my gaze away from Roman. "Yes. I meant it’s enough. More than enough," I assured them both rapidly, my cheeks warming.

Roman’s lips twisted into a faint, mocking line.

Handing me the incredibly heavy file, Gideon's tone dropped a terrifying octave. "You have until Friday to review the clauses and sign on the dotted line. But Clara? You cannot breathe a single word of this arrangement to anyone. Friend, family, it doesn't matter. If you do, this deal is instantly killed."

"Of course," I whispered. I grabbed the folder, pushed myself up on shaky legs, and practically fled the suffocating office.

Minutes later, I was back in the quiet safety of my small desk. My hands were still trembling slightly as I cracked open the massive folder and carefully skimmed the incredibly daunting conditions laid out on the thick paper.

We would have to live together in close quarters. I stared at the words, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I hadn't thought that through at all. How bad could it really be? Who was I kidding—the man absolutely loathed my existence. Maybe if I just treated his penthouse like a minefield and stayed completely out of his way, he would do the same.

Public displays of affection were strictly required. A bitter laugh bubbled in my throat. That was a seemingly impossible tall order. Roman could barely look in my general direction without curling his handsome lip in open disgust. I had no idea how he planned to convincingly fake being in love with me.

No other romantic partners. That wasn't a problem. I had been single for years anyway.

On the positive side, one specific clause caught my eye and brought a wave of genuine relief. I would no longer be working as his PA, or anywhere else for that matter. All of my living expenses would be completely covered by his immense wealth. I certainly wouldn't miss scheduling his meetings for a single second.

But then my eyes hit the legal trap laid out in the penalty section. It was terrifyingly ironclad.

Breaching any of the terms, speaking of the contract, or attempting to end the marriage early would result in a financially ruinous five-million-dollar penalty.

My stomach dropped into my shoes. Five million dollars. Once I signed this paper, there was absolutely no escape. Roman had made entirely sure of that.

I leaned back in my chair, staring blindly at the imposing stack of documents. Technically, I had until Friday to make my final decision and sign my life away. But as I stared at the stark black ink, a heavy realization washed over me.

There wasn't really a choice to make at all.

This amount of money would completely change my life. More importantly, it would save Mom’s life. With a two-million-dollar influx of cash, we could finally afford the absolute best medical treatments. We could pack up our meager belongings and leave that rotting, unsafe apartment behind forever. I could give her the peace and comfort she desperately deserved.

As I thought about the future, a cold, calculated resolve settled over me, hardening my spine. No matter what my mother said, and no matter how much she might plead with me later, I was absolutely not taking Mick with us.

I was done with him. Not after what he did. His disgusting theft had been the final nail in the coffin of our relationship. Once I got this money, I was cutting him out of my life for good.

But I knew Mom wouldn't understand that right now. Her heart was too soft, and she was far too fragile from the illness to handle the ugly truth of this fake marriage or my harsh plans for my father. I needed to protect her from the stress.

I'll tell her everything. After she recovers.