Page 143 of The Contract

The thought cuts through me, unexpected and visceral, breaking something open inside me that I’m not ready to acknowledge.

I swallow hard, forcing my attention elsewhere, focusing on Marcus and Calloway as they talk through something lighthearted, something easy—untilhejoins us.

Adrian.

The cocky piece of shit sidles up like he belongs here, hands in his pockets, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I know that look.

And I know exactly what’s coming next.

“So,” he starts, his tone all casual charm, but I hear the sharpness beneath it, the calculated edge, “any recent developments on the merger sites? Any last-minute changes?”

The fucker is baiting me.

Marcus stiffens beside me. Calloway’s expression remains neutral, but I see the way his attention sharpens, waiting.

I could lie. Say no and brush him off.

I could give a half-truth, something vague, something noncommittal, and pray to fucking God that Calloway doesn’t read into it.

I take a slow breath, about to respond?—

But before I can, Elena moves.

Her conversation with Margo halts abruptly, her gaze snapping toward us, and before Adrian can press any further, she shifts the entire fucking moment on its axis.

“Richard,” she says smoothly, pulling a small box from her purse. “I have a small gift for you. It’s nothing much.”

I blink, caught off guard.

I hadn’t even realized she’d thought to bring anything other than the flowers for Margo.

That smart, beautiful fucking woman.

She was over there waiting, talking to Margo but still in tune to what was going on around her. Biding her time and holding off to use the moment as a distraction to save my fucking ass from the shit show we just learned about on the way over here.

God, if it doesn’t take everything in me to stay right here and keep myself from finally giving in to every agonizing temptation that’s driven me nearly mad all fucking week.

She turns toward him, smiling, and there’s something genuine in her eyes, something bright and excited, like she truly wants to give this to him—not because it’s expected, not because it’s part of the contract, but because it matters.

“Though,” Elena continues, shooting Margo a knowing glance, “it seems like it was meant to be, considering your wife’s gift.”

Margo tilts her head in curiosity, and Calloway, clearly intrigued, takes the box and carefully opens it.

His mouth pops open in shock.

We all lean in slightly, trying to see what’s inside.

“Oh, Margo. Look.”

His voice is thick with emotion as he pulls out a simple silver keychain. One side holds a small picture—an old photograph, slightly faded, of a young couple in the prime of their youth.

The other side holds the exact same couple, only older.

A perfect then-and-now image of Richard and Margo Calloway.

“That’s from our first date,” Margo breathes, eyes wide with disbelief. “How on earth…?”

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