All through the night, Ava had her eyes open. She stared up at her ceiling as the soft patter of rain echoed against her windows, her mind racing with thoughts. Damian Blackwood's words lingered in her head like a haunting lullaby she couldn't shut off. A curse? The thought almost made her laugh. She had pegged Damian as a man governed by logic, not superstition. But he hadn't been joking. Not even close. There had been something in his eyes, something ancient, worn, and terrified, though he hid it behind that mask of steel. Something about it had screamed danger, she felt warning signals blared in her head.
The thought of spending an entire year married to a man like him felt completely like a special form of torture. Yet here she was, the morning after, dragging her soaked coat behind her as she walked through the glass doors of Ivara Connections. Ava Sinclair prided herself on staying composed, but as she walked in that day, her thoughts were anything but calm.
The rain hadn't let up, it made the morning feel depressing. A gloomy, relentless downpour fell from a sky that hadn't seen the sun in days. The sheen of water on her coat shimmered under the hallway's light. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she made her way to her down the polished hallway towards her office.
The events of last night wouldn't stop replaying in her mind. The sharp angles of Damian's face, the sound of the thunder behind his words, the sheer absurdity of the contract marriage proposal. Except, it hadn't felt absurd. It had felt real. Too real.
She hadn't even sat down when her assistant, Lila, appeared in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
"Miss Sinclair, Mr. Westley would like to see you in his office."
"I'll be there in a minute."
Suppressing a sigh, Ava dropped her bag on her chair and made the short walk to her boss's office. She braced herself, unsure of what fresh chaos awaited her.
Gavin Westley, the founder and CEO of Ivara Connections, was a man with sharp taste and even sharper instincts for PR gold. He smiled politely as she entered but didn't bother with pleasantries. Instead, he slid a cream-colored envelope across the desk.
"A client sent this for you."
Frowning, Ava picked it up. Her name was written in black ink on the front in crisp and formal calligraphy.
Inside, on thick paper that smelled faintly of lavender and old money, was a typed document. Ava opened it and read through
TERMS OF ARRANGEMENT: Proposed Matrimonial Contract between Damian Blackwood and Ava Sinclair.
She stared at the heading for a long time, the pulse in her throat starting to thud. He was actually serious. Damian Blackwood was serious.
And there it was, an outline of their fake union:
The marriage will last twelve (12) months, beginning from the date of legal registration.
Public appearances as a married couple are expected.
No physical intimacy required unless mutually agreed upon.
A designated monthly stipend will be transferred to Ms. Sinclair.
A final sum will be granted upon successful completion and public annulment.
Discretion is mandatory.
At the bottom, his signature in bold ink: Damian Blackwood.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered the paper.
"I'm not doing this," she said firmly, looking up at her boss. "Matchmaking is my profession, not contractual marriage. This is madness."
Westley laced his fingers together on the desk. "Normally, I'd agree. But you and I both know the kind of attention this will bring."
"No…"
"Hear me out," he cut in smoothly. "Damian Blackwood is untouchable. He's rejected every match we've sent his way. The media calls him the 'Bachelor of Ice.' But if it gets out that we found him a match, even a temporary one, it'll launch this company into the stratosphere."
Ava could not believe what she was hearing. This was a bet on my life. "This isn't a PR stunt. It's my life."
"And your job," he added quietly. "You want to stay head matchmaker, don't you?"
Ava clenched her jaw. "Is my job being threatened
He ignored her question. "I won't force you," he said. "But I am strongly recommending you consider it."
With her heart thudding in protest, she picked up the contract again. A marriage of convenience. A temporary lie. No intimacy, no love, just appearances and a promise.
What was the worst that could happen?
She sighed as she felt the weight of the paper under her palm. "I'll need it amended. My own clauses."
"I'll inform Mr. Blackwood."
But as she turned to leave, Lila appeared once more.
"Uh, Miss Sinclair... you might want to know that Mr. Blackwood is here. Again."
Of course he is. She would have gone to meet him either way.
Ava straightened her shoulders. "Send him in."
She returned to her office just in time to see him step through the door. as if he'd materialized from the storm outside. He excluded the same control and menace she remembered. He was in black again, perfectly tailored, timeless, and commanding as if chaos couldn't cling to him even if it tried. He might have walked out of a noir film, the kind where the hero offered more danger than salvation.
His presence consumed the entire room. Even the air shifted.
"Good morning, Miss Sinclair," he said smoothly.
"I take it you're not used to being told no."
He smirked. "Only when it's by people who don't know what they're refusing."
She gestured to the document still clutched in her hand. "You think this is normal?"
"No. But then again, I don't believe in normal."
She walked behind her desk and sat, deliberately placing the contract between them.
"Why me?" she asked.
Damien's eyes lingered on her for a while before he said. "You're the most logical choice."
She nearly laughed. "Nothing about what you're doing is logical."
Damian tilted his head slightly in amusement. "You didn't run when you found out who I was. You didn't pretend. You didn't flatter. You're the only person in this building who's ever looked at me like I was just a man, not a checkbook."
She kept her face impassive, but inside, she squirmed. Just a man? His entire being felt like ice.
"And," he added, "I've read your profile. You've made matches for people no one else could touch. I want that precision. I want that strength."
She tapped her finger against the desk. "Then you'll agree to my terms?"
"I expected them."
"Clause One: I get full autonomy. If I decide to walk, I walk."
"Granted."
"Clause Two: My professional reputation stays intact. This agreement does not reflect my work as a matchmaker. The company must publicly disassociate me from matchmaking you."
His eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded.
"Clause Three: No surprises. Everything stays transparent."
He smiled, just a little. "Define 'surprises.'"
"You know what I mean."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Damian stepped closer, placing both palms on her desk and leaning in just enough for her to smell the expensive cologne on his skin.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Ava."
Her heart hammered, but her voice was steady. "But something might, right? You believe this curse is real."
His face darkened. He had three death experiences in three months but it doubted the curse would come for her.
"You'd be safe." He promised.
Ava felt her sweaty palms under the table. "You think getting married will fix that?"
Damien smiled but it was dark in a way that didn't sit right with Ava. "I think staying single will kill me."
She stared at him.
And as she held his intense gaze, the lights in her office flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then it steadied.
Neither of them moved.
Ava broke the silence. "Fine. I'll draw up my version. Once it's amended, I'll sign."
Damian straightened. "Good."
He turned to leave but paused at the door.
"My birthday is in six months," he said without looking back. "Let's not waste time." Then the door clicked shut.
Ava sat frozen for a moment.
Then she picked up the contract again and felt, just for a second, like the room had gone cold. She looked up and saw in the reflection of her glass cabinet, a dark shape standing just behind where Damian had stood.
But when she turned to look…
The spot was empty. There was no one there.