Contract Hearts

Sofia's Point of View

"I wouldn't bother to smile. You didn't come here to fall in love."

The voice of Josh Reynolds resonated through the boardroom. He didn't blink or move. He just looked at me like I was a problem he was already sick of dealing with.

I softly capped my pen and carefully put it down on the beautiful mahogany table between us. I looked him in the eye and said, "Good."

"I also didn't come here for a fairy tale."

I had practiced this moment so many times that I couldn't let my nerves show. Even if my heart wasn't steady, my hands were.

Josh looked at the contract and drummed his fingers on the table once. "It's only for one year. We both live in the same house and go out in public together. No cheating." His eyes went back to mine, but this time they were harder. "After a year, you'll take the part of the inheritance my father left me and leave."

I nodded. "And no questions asked."

He stopped there. Something flashed through those icy gray eyes. Doubt? Fun? I couldn't tell.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked. "The press, the attention, the lies?"

I grinned a little. "You think I haven't had it worse?"

He didn't have to answer. We both realized that the agreement had nothing to do with love.

For him, this contract was a business deal. He had to marry a woman for one year to inherit his father's unpleasant legacy, which included some outrageous terms.

For me? This contract was to take revenge on him from within.

He took a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote his name with the smooth ease of someone who is used to signing away life.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Reynolds," he remarked as he slipped the contract towards me.

"Thanks," I said softly as I picked up the folder.

Josh got up. I did too. It was too quiet for the noise my chair made when I moved it. He was taller than I had expected him to be. His presence was both broader and taller than I had anticipated. His presence effortlessly expelled the air from the room. He looked as if money defined his appearance, rather than the other way around. He was wearing a well-tailored black suit, a silver watch, and expensive perfume that filled the room.

I turned around and left to escape him before I revealed any signs of anger building up inside me.

"Hold on" His voice halted me abruptly.

I looked over my shoulder. His jaw was stiff. "You'll move in tonight."

"Tonight?" I murmured, unable to hide my shock.

"We have something going on tomorrow. I need my wife to be with me." There was no room for dispute in his tone.

Yes, of course. He held a charity ball, sparked controversy, and penned gossip columns. His marriage was perfect, the deception must have started somewhere.

"I'll bring my stuff."

He looked at me for one more second. "And Sofia?"

"Yes?"

"Don't mistake this contract for emotions" A warning sounded like a menace.

I smiled at him just a little bit. "I wouldn't even think about it."

Then, with my heart pounding and a contract binding me to kill the man, I left the boardroom.

I held back my tears on the walk home. The smell of mildew and cheap regrets filled my shoebox flat when I arrived. Not when I put the last picture of my dad in a leather bag. And not even when I looked in the mirror and put on the expensive blue dress that would make me look like I belonged in Josh Reynolds's world.

But I did stop for a moment when I put the ring on. It was weighty and didn't seem real. The bracelet, adorned with a beautiful diamond, exceeded my six-month rent. I turned it, and as it caught the light, seeing it on my finger made everything seem real in a scary way.

Josh's driver arrived promptly at 7 p.m. He properly welcomed me, opened the door, and gave me a stiff nod, as if he already understood what kind of deal this was.

Josh's penthouse matched my expectations perfectly. The penthouse exuded a sense of royalty over the city, boasting glass walls, smooth shadows, and a serene atmosphere. It was the kind of setting that suited his personality. He exuded simplicity, coldness, and a lack of personal touch.

He received me in the hall with his arms crossed and no grin. He looked like he was checking out new office furniture instead of welcoming his bride.

"You'll stay in the guest room across the hall." He pointed to a door and said, "This is the guest room."

"My staff will take care of your clothes."

I arched an eyebrow. "Is there anything else I should be careful about?" I asked in a neutral tone.

He looked down at my hands. "Mind your business and stay away from my office."

"Do you think I'm afraid I'll find out your secrets?" I asked with a grin.

He refused to fall for the trick. Rather, he stepped forward, his height and his upscale, clean scent encroaching on my personal space.

"Scared you won't make it through them."

Despite a slight flutter in my heart, I maintained my composure. "Then your door should always be locked."

Something in his eyes changed; maybe he was amused. Impressed? He turned away before I could figure it out.

"We will unpack your things for you."

The doors of the lift closed behind me with a hiss. I was in.

The guest room was bigger than my whole apartment. The bedding was clean, the windows were big, and the vista looked like it belonged in a magazine. But I wasn't concerned about being rich.

I sat on the bed and opened my notebook. It wasn't the one with my calendar or reminders; it was the other one. It was the real deal.

My father's notes were within. His last audit was before Reynolds Enterprises buried him. Handwritten notes and hastily scribbled numbers were present. There was Josh's name, in a circle. Underlined.

I ran my finger over it, and a sense of anger stirred within me. My dad put his faith in the wrong people. He lost everything, including his business, his reputation, and his life. It's Josh's time now. I would dismantle his world, just as he had dismantled my father's.

I couldn't sleep at midnight. My skin itched for some reason in the penthouse. The tranquility was almost perfect. I walked barefoot into the hallway and towards the kitchen. The marble flooring was cold on my skin.

Then I noticed light coming from behind a door. I halted, but then recalled his warning. Don't go near my office! But restrictions never stopped guys like Josh from hurting men like my dad. Why would they want to stop me?

I got closer and wrapped my fingers around the doorknob. It was open. "That was dumb and careless of him," I said softly. But I still turned it.

There was just one desk lamp in the room, and it produced long shadows on documents and screens. The office smelt like leather and sandalwood, which is a strong, manly scent. I carefully stepped inside, letting my eyes get used to the low light.

There were framed newspaper articles about Reynolds Enterprises' triumphs on the walls. Awards and plaques shone dully on the shelf. Everything on the large desk in the middle of the room was neatly arranged. I got closer and looked for anything useful, like a calendar, files, or notes.

On the desk was a photo of me from two years ago. I was outside the funeral for my father. That day was obvious in my mind, but I didn't remember anyone snapping pictures.

"What the hell?" I mumbled and then reached for it, but a shadow moved behind me and the door slammed shut.

"Sofia, are you looking for something?" I could hear his voice just behind me. His voice was pleasant, yet it carried a certain amount of risk.

I turned around carefully. Josh stood there with his sleeves rolled up and looked at me severely.

"I thought I told you to stay out." He moved forward, narrowing the gap. "You think you're the only one who is stubborn?"

I had to swallow hard. "What is this?" I attempted to speak steadily while pointing to the photo.

He looked at me as if he had anticipated my next words. Then he said absolutely, "We're both married to earn something"