Page 142 of The Contract

My fingers brush a lock of hair behind her ear, a deliberate touch to help soften my answer.

“There is no family.”

Her lips part slightly, the realization sinking in.

Because suddenly, she understands.

When my parents died, I didn’t just lose them. I lost everything.

I became an orphan, just like her.

When my mother was buried, my father should have just climbed into the grave with her. I was eighteen when he died, but he had been vacant for years. And then it was just me—for real.

A slow ache burns behind her gaze, but she doesn’t say anything.

I offer a small, almost amused smile, rubbing my hand up and down her thigh, as if I can wipe that look from her face.

“But I had Marcus,” I say, my gaze flicking toward where he and James are engaged in conversation. “And now James.”

Her expression softens just a fraction, the hint of something warmer behind her eyes.

“And I prefer experiences over gifts anyway,” I continue, my lips curling at the corner. “So… maybe swimming with the sharks off the coast of South Africa?”

Elena laughs, shaking her head. “Of course. Just a casual, heart-stopping near-death experience.”

I smirk. “Adrenaline rush. Better than a gold-plated watch.”

I say it like it’s nothing. Like none of this is a big deal.

But she’s still looking at me like it is.

And the way her fingers toy with the soft hair at the nape of my neck—like she’s trying to give me something, even if it’s just this moment.

I shouldn’t let it get to me.

But it does.

And all I can think about now…

Is what I would give her.

If she would let me.

If we were different people.

If this weren’t just a contract.

There isn’t anything in this world I wouldn’t give her.

Nearly an hour passes, and somehow, we’ve successfully managed to avoid any talk of the merger.

The game continues in the background, the suite filled with easy conversation, laughter, and the occasional burst of cheers from the stands outside.

Across the room, Elena is tucked into a quiet conversation with Margo, their heads tilted toward each other as they giggle like they’re sharing secrets.

It’s a simple moment, an unassuming one, but as I watch them—Margo’s warm, maternal presence, Elena’s soft, unguarded expression—it strikes something deep in my chest.

For a second, they could almost be mother and daughter.

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