Romance · 28 chapters · by Royendgel Silberie · in english
“Clause four,” Dominic Cole says, sliding the contract across the bar's cracked emerald marble. “Marriage. Ninety days. Or the board sells your…
Chapter 1: Clause Four
“Clause four,” Dominic Cole says, sliding the contract across the bar's cracked emerald marble. “Marriage. Ninety days. Or the board sells your grandmother's hotel out from under you.” You have hated this man for a year — six offers, six refusals. The thin white scar through his left eyebrow catches the chandelier light. He never raises his voice; that is the terrifying part. “Why would you marry me?” you ask. “Because I need it too.” He will not say why.
What happens next? I tear the contract in half. · I ask what he gets out of this. · I pour two whiskeys and start negotiating terms.
Chapter 2: Twelve Copies
You rip the pages down the middle. Dominic doesn't blink — he sets a second copy on the marble, already signed. “I brought twelve.” Your phone buzzes: Hargrove, your grandmother's lawyer, voice oiled and urgent. “Miss Ashford, before you do anything rash — there is a sealed letter. Eloise left it with the will. It opens only after a marriage certificate is filed. Her rules, not mine.” Across the bar, Dominic watches you like he already knew.
What happens next? I demand Hargrove read me the letter tonight. · I ask Dominic what he knows about the letter. · I pocket his contract and walk out to think.
Chapter 3: A Wife on Paper
“What do you get out of marrying a broke pastry chef?” He turns his glass once, precisely. “A wife on paper. Ninety days. Then we annul.” “That's not an answer.” “It's all you need.” Your phone buzzes — Hargrove, silk-voiced. “Miss Ashford, there is a sealed letter from Eloise. It opens only once a marriage certificate is filed. Those were her exact instructions.” Across the bar, Dominic checks his watch like he timed the call.
What happens next? I hang up and demand the whole truth from him. · I tell Hargrove to messenger me the will tonight. · I leave them both wondering and return to my kitchen.
Chapter 4: Terms
“Terms,” you say, pulling a pen from your apron. “The kitchen stays mine. Nothing gets sold. Separate rooms.” Dominic agrees to all three before you finish — too fast, like a man clearing pocket change. That frightens you more than refusal would. Then Hargrove calls, oily and pleased. “Your grandmother left a sealed letter, Miss Ashford. It opens only after a marriage certificate is filed. She did always love her conditions.”
What happens next? I add a clause: full disclosure of his motives. · I sign nothing until I read that letter's rules. · I shake his hand and hide how scared I am.
Chapter 5: SELL
Morning. The Meridian's kitchen should smell of butter and yeast. Instead it reeks of gas. You lunge for the range — every burner valve stands open, pilot lights dead. Priya, your sous-chef, hauls the tall windows wide, coughing. “Lena, valves don't slip. Someone turned them.” On the pass sits a tourist postcard of the hotel, one word inked across its painted sky: SELL. Behind you, the service door clicks softly shut.
What happens next? I chase whoever is behind that door. · I photograph everything and call Dominic. · I say nothing and quietly pull the staff roster.
Chapter 6: Cologne and Brass
You shoulder through the service door into the linen corridor — empty, but cologne hangs in the air, expensive and familiar. On the floor: a brass key fob stamped 12. The boardroom level. Nobody on kitchen staff carries those. When you come back, Dominic is standing in your ruined kitchen, coat over his arm, reading the postcard without touching it. “Gas now. Worse later,” he says quietly. “My offer expires at midnight, Lena. Decide.”
What happens next? I pocket the fob and sign on my terms. · I demand he double the hotel's security first. · I sign, but I keep the fob my secret.
Chapter 7: Eleven Minutes
You shoot photos of every open valve, the postcard, the door. Dominic arrives in eleven minutes — remarkably fast for a man who claims not to care. He reads the room like a ledger, then crouches at the postcard without touching it. “Block letters, left-handed. Not your staff.” He straightens, coat falling into place. “Someone wants you scared into selling. Marry me and they answer to us both. Midnight, Lena. Decide.”
What happens next? I sign, with my amendments inked in the margins. · I make him swear to hunt whoever did this. · I sign and hate how safe he makes me feel.
Chapter 8: The Roster
You tell no one and pull the roster. Last night's log shows the night porter, Emil, clocked out at 2:14 — yet the lobby camera caught his key card opening the kitchen at 3:40. Cards can be cloned; men can be bought. Priya watches you read, arms crossed. “You're doing the scary quiet thing again.” Your phone lights the dim office. Dominic: *The offer dies at midnight. Bring your amendments.* Decide, Lena.
What happens next? I sign at 11:58, strictly on my terms. · I corner Emil for answers before I sign anything. · I sign and keep the footage to myself.
