Page 63 of The Contract

This just got complicated.

“We’re on high alert,” Marcus says, mirroring my thoughts. “This could bring trouble.”

“No shit.”

I don’t like trouble. I don’t like surprises. And I sure as hell don’t like unknown variables fucking up my plans.

With a slow exhale, I open my text thread with Elena.

DAMIEN: You up for that spa day to happen at the Hamptons?

Her response, once again, comes almost instantly.

ELENA: I’m your beck-and-call girl. At your service, sir.

My lips twitch before I can stop them.

I stare at that last word longer than I should.

Sir.

It sinks into me, warm and slow, curling low in my stomach in a way I don’t have time to fucking analyze.

I force myself to close the text thread before I do something stupid.

Like text her again just to see what else she’d call me.

Damien is dressed down this morning—well, as dressed down as I’ve seen him so far.

His slate-blue linen suit fits him with effortless perfection, the lightweight fabric a clear nod to the sun-drenched weekend ahead.

The crisp white button-down underneath is open at the top, the deep V revealing defined muscle beneath. It’s sexy—just enough of a glimpse to remind me exactly how hard he works in that private gym of his.

The blue suit makes his eyes so vibrant it’s hard to look away.

I smooth my hands down my darker-blue summer dress, its flowy silhouette a perfect complement to his suit.

It hadn’t been intentional, but when Damien’s eyes drag over me in that sharp, assessing way of his, something flickers in them. Approval, maybe.

The thought shouldn’t thrill me the way it does, so I push it down.

A black metal tumbler of coffee is waiting for me on the kitchen counter, lid already on.

I lift a brow. “Breakfast on the go?”

“Seemed efficient,” he replies simply, taking a sip from his own.

There’s a blanket folded neatly beside it.

Before I can stop myself, I nod toward it. “And that?”

“It can get chilly onboard.”

I narrow my eyes slightly.Onboard what?

It’s early—the city still wrapped in that muted, pre-dawn quiet—and I curl my fingers around the warm tumbler, savoring the rich, perfectly made coffee.

Of course, he got it right.

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