Page 29 of The Contract

Clipped. Controlled.

“Miss Moreau.”

Lucian clasps his hands together. “Perfect. Now that you two have met, let’s go over the contract details.”

Oh, I have no doubt Damien already knows every detail.

Just like I do.

We’re supposed to be engaged.

A deeply in love, can’t-keep-our-hands-off-each-other engagement.

My stomach clenches.

Lucian flips through the contract with ease, barely glancing up as he lists our obligations.

“Public appearances together, charity events, dinners, meetings with Wolfe Industries’ board.”

Damien stays silent.

But I can still feel his fucking eyes on me.

“Of course,” Lucian continues, flipping a page, “the engagement must appear convincing, which means there will be physical expectations in public—hand-holding, the occasional affectionate moment.”

My throat tightens.

Affectionate moment.

I already know exactly how his hands feel on my body.

How his lips feel against mine.

I feel the shift in Damien—so small, so subtle, but I sense it.

He’s thinking about it, too.

“Elena has a strict ‘No Intimacy’ rule behind closed doors. This arrangement is strictly for appearances…”

His voice, when he finally speaks, is even. Emotionless.

“That won’t be necessary.”

I swallow hard.

And I swear it echoes around the entire office.

Lucian doesn’t catch the tension snapping between us like a live wire.

“And at the completion of the contract, there is a generous ten-million-dollar payout.”

I nearly choke.

I try to play it off with a cough, reaching for one of the crystal glasses and the pitcher of water—but Damien is closer.

I feel his presence as he lifts the pitcher and pours the water.

His fingers brush mine when he hands me the glass.

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