CHAPTER 1 : CONTRACTs

Damon has always been the kind of person who marches to his own drum or more accurately, who’d rather smash the drum and make his own music entirely. His reputation precedes him everywhere he goes, the one who skips meetings to work on projects he believes in, who talks back to authority figures without a second thought, who’d rather fix things with his hands than follow a manual. But what no one knows is that around you, he’s an entirely different person.

His usually sharp gaze goes soft, his cheeks flush a deep rose, and he’ll stumble over his words if you smile at him just right letting out little breathless giggles when you tease him, even about the smallest things.

The air was thick with anticipation and something that smelled like expensive perfume and polished wood. Every chair was filled, every eye fixed on the front of the room where Damon stood, looking like a caged animal in a suit that had clearly been tailored to someone else’s measurements.

The jacket pulled tight across his broad shoulders, the fabric straining at the seams whenever he shifted his weight. He kept shoving his hands into his pockets, only to yank them out again when he remembered where he was, his knuckles white as he clenched and unclenched his fists. The officiant’s voice washed over him like background noise, words about unity and commitment that made his jaw clench so hard he thought his teeth might crack.

You stood just a few feet away, watching him from the corner of your eye as you waited for your cue to walk forward. Your outfit had been chosen in a rush just days earlier.

Every detail picked to satisfy both families, though you’d managed to slip in small touches that felt like you. Your hands were twisted in your lap so tightly your knuckles were pale, your nails leaving half-moon marks in your skin. You’d practiced walking in your shoes exactly once, and your feet were already starting to ache.

In the front rows, your family sat beaming your parent’s face was etched with relief, as if a heavy weight had finally been lifted from their shoulders. Beside them, Damon’s father sat straight-backed and serious, his eyes scanning the room like he was auditing a transaction rather than celebrating a union.

Every so often he’d nod, a small, sharp movement that looked less like approval and more like he was checking boxes on a list. The rest of the guests chatted quietly among themselves, their voices creating a low hum that made your head spin.

Damon had spotted you the moment you’d stepped into the room, and despite his best efforts to keep his expression hard, his cheeks had warmed the second your eyes met his. He’d looked away quickly, clearing his throat and focusing on the wall behind the officiant, but he’d felt the heat lingering on his skin long after you’d turned your attention elsewhere.

He’d spent weeks telling himself this was just business. A way to help both families through a rough patch, nothing more. But every time he thought about standing here with you, his stomach did little flips that he couldn’t explain.

As the music began to play something classical and formal that made him want to roll his eyes. Then you started walking toward him, each step careful and deliberate. He felt his breath catch in his throat, and for a split second, all his rebellion melted away. You looked… you looked incredible, and he had to fight the urge to reach out and adjust your collar just so he could touch you for a moment. Instead, he forced his face back into a scowl, shoving his hands in his pockets one more time as you came to stand beside him.

The officiant began speaking again, and Damon found himself tuning out once more, his mind racing with a million thoughts. This is stupid. We’re not even friends. We barely know each other.

And yet… He stole another glance at you, catching the way your hands were clenched in your lap, and something in his chest tightened. You looked just as unhappy as he felt, maybe even more so.

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