OBSESSION

The Contract

The rain had slowed to a mist, but the air inside the room felt heavier than before.
Lucien hadn't moved far—just enough to lean against the desk, his eyes never leaving her.

Aria's pulse still hadn't steadied. She wanted to speak, to break the silence, but the way he watched her made her feel like every word would cost her something.

"What's in the rest of it?" she asked finally, nodding toward the folder.

Lucien didn't glance down. "Enough to keep you from running."

Her stomach knotted. "Is that a threat?"

"No," he said, voice calm. "It's an arrangement."

He reached for another folder from the desk and slid it toward her. Thick cream paper, heavy in her hands. Inside, the pages were neat, typed, and far too formal.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A contract."

She skimmed the first lines, her frown deepening. "You're insane. You can't just—"

"I can." He stepped closer, one hand resting on the desk beside the folder. "Read it."

Her eyes dropped to the words again. The agreement was simple in its language, but the meaning was far from innocent:
She would remain in his employ for six months. She would follow his instructions. She would not disclose anything she saw or heard. And if she broke the terms, there would be consequences.

Her hands tightened around the pages. "I'm not signing this."

"You already have."
Lucien reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a single sheet. Her signature scrawled at the bottom. It was a copy of a release form she'd signed weeks ago—she remembered now, in a rush of heat and panic. A casual signature on a clipboard, when she'd thought she was just authorizing a delivery.

"You forged this."

"I amended it," he corrected smoothly. "And now it's binding."

Her throat went dry. "That's illegal."

Lucien smiled faintly. "So am I."

She pushed the folder toward him, the edge catching against his hand. "I won't do it."

"Yes, you will."

The certainty in his voice made her chest tighten. "And why is that?"

Lucien slid a photograph from the drawer and placed it between them. Her heart stopped. It was her, sitting in a café two weeks ago—laughing, leaning toward a man she recognized instantly. Daniel. Her brother.

Her voice cracked. "What did you—"

"He's fine," Lucien said, almost gently. "For now."

Aria's hands curled into fists. "If you hurt him—"

"I don't hurt people who behave," he said. "You sign, he stays safe. You walk away... and I can't promise anything."

She hated him in that moment. Hated the way he stood so calm, so certain, while her insides twisted. But more than that, she hated herself for hesitating.

Lucien slid a pen across the desk. The silver tip caught the light. "Decide."

Her gaze flicked from the pen to his face. His expression didn't change—no gloating, no rush. He was a man who knew he'd already won.

Her fingers brushed the pen.
Her voice was low. "Six months?"

"Six months," he confirmed. "And at the end... you walk away. If you still want to."

She hated that part of her wanted to believe him.

The pen felt heavier than it should have as she signed her name, each stroke feeling like a lock clicking into place. When she was done, Lucien took the paper, glanced at it, and slipped it into the folder.

"There," he said softly. "Now you're mine."

The words sent a shiver down her spine—not just from fear, but something sharper, something she didn't want to name.

Lucien straightened, tucking the folder under his arm. "You'll start tomorrow. Wear black."

"And if I don't?" she asked, the edge in her voice a last attempt at defiance.

His eyes lingered on her for a long, dangerous beat. "Then I'll come get you myself."

He walked past her toward the door, pausing only once to look back. "Get some sleep, Aria. You'll need it."

The lock clicked behind him, leaving her alone with the sound of her own breathing and the weight of a decision she could never undo.