CHAPTER 3 : THE BARGAIN

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You nodded slowly, your eyes fixed on your hands in your lap as you sat beside him in the back of the car.

Relief washed over you first, relief that he felt the same way you did, that he didn’t want this any more than you did, that you wouldn’t have to pretend to be happy with someone who didn’t care about you. But underneath that relief was a sharp, bitter disappointment that made your chest ache.

You’d never been foolish enough to think this marriage would be a love story, but somewhere deep down, you’d hoped… not for romance, necessarily, but for friendship. For someone who might understand you.

“ Agreed,” you said, your voice steady even though your hands were shaking. You looked up then, meeting his gaze for the first time since the kiss on the cheek, and let some of your frustration show in your eyes. “I have no interest in being married to someone who thinks rules are just suggestions to be broken whenever it suits them. I’ve spent my whole life doing what’s expected of me, following the path that’s been laid out for me. I’m not going to start making exceptions now, not even for you.”

Damon’s eyes flashed at that, a mix of annoyance and something that looked almost like respect. “So you’re saying you’ve never once wanted to do something just because you wanted to?” he shot back, his voice sharp. “Never wanted to break the rules, to go against what everyone expects of you? That sounds exhausting.”

“Maybe it is,” you said quietly, looking away from him again. “But it’s kept my family safe. It’s kept us stable. Sometimes rules are there for a reason.”

He let out a short, sharp laugh that made your shoulders tense. “Right. Rules are there to keep people in line. To make sure no one steps out of their box. Well, I’ve never been very good at staying in boxes.”

The rest of the ride to the reception passed in silence, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. When the car finally pulled up outside the venue.

A grand place filled with flowers and crystal chandeliers . Damon got out first, then held the door open for you, his expression carefully neutral. It was a small gesture, but it made something in your chest flutter despite yourself.

Inside, the room was packed with people you’d known your whole life and plenty you’d never met. Your parent pulled you aside immediately, their face glowing with happiness. “I know this wasn’t your first choice,” they said quietly, squeezing your hand. “But this is good for us. For both families. And I think… I think in time, you might come to care for him. He’s a good man underneath all that roughness.”

You forced a smile, nodding even though you didn’t believe a word of it. “I know,” you said, your voice flat. “We’ll be fine.”

Across the room, Damon was having a similar conversation with his father, who was standing stiff and serious as always. “You need to pull yourself together,” his father said, his voice low and sharp. “This union is important, not just for our family, but for everything we’ve built. I won’t have you ruining it with your childish rebellion.”

Damon’s jaw clenched, but he kept his voice calm. “I’m doing what you asked,” he said. “I’m here. I’m playing my part. What more do you want from me?”

“Respect,” his father said, his eyes cold. “Respect for this arrangement. Respect for your spouse. And respect for the fact that this is bigger than just you.”

As the speeches began and the food was served, you and Damon found yourselves sitting at the head table, side by side but not touching, not even looking at each other. Every so often, someone would come by to congratulate you both, and you’d put on your best smiles, holding hands for show and saying all the right things. Each time you touched him like even just for a moment you could feel him tense beside you, and you’d pull your hand away as quickly as possible.

When the dancing started, you expected him to make excuses to avoid it, but instead he stood up and held out his hand to you, his expression unreadable. “We have to dance,” he said quietly. “It’s expected.”

You took his hand, letting him lead you out onto the dance floor. He placed one hand on your waist, his touch light as if he was afraid to hurt you, and held your other hand in his, his fingers wrapped loosely around yours. The music was slow and romantic, and you could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you both.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “About keeping our distance. It’s better this way. For both of us.”

You nodded, keeping your gaze fixed on his shoulder so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “I know,” you said. “Me too.”

But as he led you around the dance floor, his hand warm on your waist and his eyes softening just for a moment when he thought you weren’t looking, you found yourself wondering if keeping your distance was really what either of you wanted.

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