The contract was signed.
Silver ink on ivory paper.
Two signatures side by side — Adrian Locke and Aria Sinclair.
Not lovers.
Not partners.
Not even friends.
Just two forces crashing into each other at high speed.
When Aria stepped away from the table, Adrian slid a black velvet box toward her.
"This is the ring," he said.
No softness. No hesitation. Just business.
Aria opened the box.
A diamond, flawless and cold as winter. Beautiful. Heavy. More like a collar than a gift.
She closed it.
"No."
Adrian's eyes sharpened. "Excuse me?"
"If this is for the media," she said, "then I choose the ring. Not you."
His jaw tightened, ever so slightly.
"You think you're in a position to demand conditions?"
Aria moved closer — close enough he could feel her steady, unbroken presence.
"I just agreed to tie my life to yours for a year," she said. "Don't mistake that for obedience."
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The air between them heated.
Adrian took a slow step forward, his height casting a shadow over her. "Most people in your situation would show gratitude."
"Most people aren't me."
They stared.
Not like enemies.
Not like allies.
Like two storms about to collide.
Finally, Adrian exhaled — not defeated, but amused in a way that held danger.
"Fine," he said. "Choose your ring. My assistant will accompany you."
Aria's lips curved — not a smile, but something sharper.
"Good."
She turned to leave.
But the moment her hand touched the door handle—
"Aria."
His voice was lower now. Not cold. Not soft. Something in between.
She paused.
Adrian's gaze locked onto hers, unflinching.
"When you stand beside me," he said, "you represent my name. You will not bend. You will not bow. You will not let anyone look down on you."
Aria's heartbeat did something it hadn't done in years.
It stumbled.
Just once.
Not because of the words — but because he meant them.
She didn't respond.
She simply held his gaze a second longer.
Then she left.
---
Two Hours Later — Public Lobby
Reporters swarmed like vultures. Cameras flashed, microphones pushed, voices shouted:
"Mr. Locke! Is the engagement rumor true?"
"Who is the woman by your side?"
"Are we witnessing a surprise marriage announcement?"
Adrian stood tall, expression unreadable. The world bent around his presence.
Then the elevator doors opened.
Aria stepped out.
Now wearing her ring — a sapphire stone, deep blue, like something pulled from the ocean at midnight. Elegant. Powerful. Unapologetic.
The room froze.
Adrian looked at the ring.
Then at her.
And for the first time, his icy composure showed a crack.
Approval.
But he still didn't smile.
He offered his arm.
Aria didn't hesitate.
Their hands touched—
Warm skin against cool steel.
Electric.
The press went silent for half a breath before exploding:
"ARE YOU OFFICIALLY A COUPLE?"
Adrian leaned slightly toward her — voice low enough only she could hear:
"Ready?"
Aria's lips tilted.
"Always."
He faced the cameras and declared:
"This is my wife."
Gasps. Chaos. Headlines being born in real time.
Not fake.
Not casual.
A declaration with the full weight of his power.
But Aria wasn't looking at the cameras.
She was looking at him.
And beneath all the cold and control, she saw something dangerous:
He wasn't just playing a role.
He was dead serious.