The city was still half-asleep when Aria stepped out of the subway the next morning.
A cold wind whipped around the base of King Enterprises, tugging at her coat. She'd dressed with care — the best blouse she owned, hair smoothed into place — not to impress him, but to make sure he couldn't see the cracks.
The receptionist didn't ask her name this time. "He's in his office," she said, already dialing the elevator code.
The penthouse doors opened to find Darius at the window, hands in his pockets, the skyline spread beneath him like a kingdom. He didn't turn when she entered.
"You've decided," he said. Not a question.
"Yes." Her voice didn't waver. "I'll marry you."
Finally, he faced her. That slow, assessing gaze again. "Wise choice."
"This isn't a choice," she shot back.
"It always is," he said smoothly, moving to his desk. "Sit."
She did, perching on the edge of the chair. A thick envelope was already waiting in front of her.
"Contract," he said. "You'll want to read it carefully. My legal team doesn't miss details."
Aria slid the papers out. The first page alone made her pulse jump — terms about public appearances, joint residency, discretion clauses. A section labeled Conjugal Expectations made her cheeks burn.
"You can't be serious," she said, skimming.
"I'm always serious." He leaned back, watching her reaction like it was entertainment. "The media will believe we're a real couple. That requires… realism."
Her grip tightened on the pen. "I won't—"
"You'll do what's necessary," he cut in, his tone still infuriatingly calm. "Or the deal ends. And when it ends, so does your sister's future."
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
Aria forced her eyes back to the papers. Each page felt heavier than the last — financial clauses, asset protections, even rules about who she could speak to without his approval.
"This is a prison," she muttered.
"It's protection," he corrected. "You'll learn the difference."
She signed. The pen scratched across the paper, sealing her fate with every stroke.
When she slid the contract back to him, his fingers brushed hers. It was the lightest contact, but enough to send an unwanted shiver down her spine.
"Welcome to the lion's den, Mrs. King," he said quietly.
The words weren't a promise. They were a warning.