I thought I had successfully dodged a bullet, that I had time to fix up my life, six months to be exact, and that I had some control over the threads of my life but reality and I were in a boxing ring, and I was being abused; abundantly.

My vocal cords were sore, my throat scratchy and my mouth still dry from yesterday's screeching spat with my father and the sad part was that my stalwart hours of screaming and throwing things in his office were all in vain. Useless. Amounted to nothing because here I was, walking into the hotel where Andrei was staying.

I nearly wanted to spew my guts out when I received his message on my phone last night, wishing I had never messaged him in the first place and that too from my personal phone. A dark swirl of fear circulated my being as my eyes went over the message, over and over and over and over. Not fear of the man I was supposed to sign a contract with, but a fear of not knowing what was coming, fear of losing what little freedom I had living with father, although not much, it was something I had gotten accustomed to, something I was slowly but surely trying to gain full control over.

I had been in this hotel once before when my father held one of his conferences here so I knew my way around, not bothering to ask for help or direction from the staff littered around the extravagant lobby. I walked into the open elevator and depressed the button of the conference hall, my finger channelling a fraction of the aggression onto the cool metal.

The soft music barely helped calm the commotion coursing through my veins as the elevator ascended. My heart pumped with painful beats against my chest and my gut stirred, trying to convince me to walk away from this ordeal because no good was written in it.

An ordeal that was my father's and not mine. But wasn't it you who stole? The voice on the inside nagged and my mind once again derailed, returning to shambles.

I was not the thief. I am not a thief.

Before I could once again torture myself with the possible suspects who would want my demise, the doors slid open, a light chime sounding the arrival to the intended floor.

With a deep breath in, I stepped out and navigated my way to the conference room. I didn't bother knocking on the door or waiting outside, I simply barged in and to my surprise and, quite frankly, delight, it was empty.

I sauntered in, my heels clicking on the marble floor as I took the room in. It was not how I remembered.

Apart from the bright sun shining through the same glass windows, it all seemed a little different. Instead of the many chairs tucked under the long, mahogany table, there were only two, one at the head of the table and the other on its right side but a good ten feet away, leaving the rest of the stretch vacant. I couldn't help the scowl that etched my features as immediately caught on to how he already planned to take the upper hand, to signify his authority in this matter.

With furious clacking of my heels, I walked up to the head of the table, smoothing out the creases of my semi-formal blazer as I pulled out the chair and sat down, getting myself comfortable in the seat where I bet he was expecting himself to be seated. I'll be damned if I made it easy for him.

It would've been barely a minute, two at best, before the doors once again opened, sounding out the arrival of another but I stayed put, quietly examining my fingernails and paying no attention to the newcomer. My vision was distracted but my hearing was sharp, closely mapping out each step as its echo bounced off the walls, coming to a stop behind me, or more specifically, behind his intended seat.

"Took you long enough." The simple mumble of my words was just the start of my dull scheme to try to get under his skin, just enough that it'll seem easier for him to keep his distance or better yet, part our ways forever.

His rough grunt was his response before he stated, "You're in my chair." The displeasure was nicely wrapped.

Following my sense of hearing, his entity attacked my sense of smell with his heavy cologne, spice and earthy freshness, and I found myself unwillingly taking a deep breath. "Doesn't have a name written on it." I shrugged my shoulders, just to give it an edge.

I jotted down a little victory as I picked up the laboured huff, followed by his stride to the chair tucked away ten feet away. I sneaked a look from the corner of my eye, watching his back filling out his beige suit nicely, pulling the seams in all the right places.

I was quick to lower my wandering gaze as he dragged the vacant chair right next to my figure, leaving such little space that I could reach out and touch him.

I could already tell he had no desire to be here as much as I did, maybe even more. I studied the cold exterior he presented in the basic action of taking a seat, how he threw the brown sealed envelope on the table in front of me and gave me a look drenched in an inexplicable emotion that I couldn't put my finger on.

"I can see the hate, Andrei," I tried being nice first, trying the easy approach of untangling my threads from his, picking at it with delicate fingers, "so why don't we just live our own lives, without-"

"Congratulations on your perfect eyesight, Pierce," his guttural response sounded as his hard gaze swept over my frame, from my interlocked hands sitting on top of the table to the irritation dripping from my stare, "But I think I'll keep you, hate and all."

"Am I a fucking dog?" My thoughts escaped past my lips before I could filter them, my bitter chuckle filling the space as my dislike for this man next to me grew by the second.

"Dog, pet, brat," his calculating gaze with a sombre expression prepared me for his next word, "wife, whatever you want to call yourself."

The atmosphere of the room shifted in an instant, my eyes squinting as if to measure the truth carried in that single word. The seriousness was wrapped around his movements, his lips thinned to a line as he studied me. His slender fingers slowly tapped the dark wood, anticipating my next move with a furrow in his brows.

I had just freed myself from the clutches of marriage and my supposed fiancé mere days ago and now this felt like a shit ton of bricks was launched at me, aimed directly at my face. This man is hell-bent on making my father pay, making me pay for a crime that I refuse to admit and now he wants to marry? Marry me?

"You have to be playing a sick game, Mr. Romanov." The breath stuck in my throat departed with disbelief followed by a humourless laugh at the entire situation, "Because if you fucking think that I-"

"Woof, woof, Pierce."

"No, you just didn't, boy." Blood rushed to my ears, the anger spreading through my veins and filling each pore of my body as my hands curled into fists, so tight my knuckles were drained of their colour. "You go fucking find yourself a wife or whatever the twisted shit it is you desire." My finger pointed directly at his stoic face, "I do not want anything to do with you or whatever it is going through that demented head of yours." The chair underneath me screeched as I pushed it back, standing up to take my leave because there was no way in hell I was about to be disrespected and do something that I was running away from.

"Sit back down." He speaks in a tone that reeks of authority, his glacial eyes controlling and trying to pin me down, to hold me in place, and to some extent, he was successful because I halted.

And now I'm thinking I might be a dog after all.

"I want no part of this, Andrei Romanov." The furious whisper came through gritted teeth as I leaned forward, my hands resting on top of the wood with a vice grip, aiming to make a solid point.

"Nemmeno io, ma eccoci qui." His foreign mutter went over my head and I just shook my head, denying the reality of what was to come. (Neither do I, but here we are.)

"I am not here to sign anything." I straightened my back as if it would aid me in some way to get it through his thick skull. "I will not be signing my life away, not for you, not for my father."

"Why are you here then, Pierce?" His question held curiosity as he stood up to his full length, stalking over to where I stood and towering over my frame.

"I did nothing, I did not pickpocket you or anyone else." Once again, my claim was with no proof other than my word, my sanity and my inability to be a thief who would, of all people, steal for my father, for a business I wanted no part of.

"Do I need to send you the video?" He took a daunting step forward, "The one where you so fearlessly committed your crime. You can look at it again and again, until your heart's content and know I have the power here." His hard, threatening gaze never faltered, only narrowing with despise.

Without the icy gaze leaving my face, his hand reached over and picked up the khaki envelope I had been ignoring. He held it up in the little space between us, "Read the contract, Pierce. Make it easy for the both of us."

"Easy would be being away from this." I gestured at his being, "And you."

"Too bad." Andrei pushed the envelope to my chest, jolting me back with the force. "We don't always get what we want."

I had no choice but to hold it, my fingers softly brushing his as he pulled back. I caught the corner of his lip curving down as he turned, walking back and taking his seat.

I was frozen in place, making no move or intention to sit down or read the stupid contract he drafted. My eyes just stared off into nothingness.

"Sit down and read," he sighed as he extended his hand to take a look at the silver watch peeking from beneath his cuff. "I don't have the time for your immaturity."

"Go to hell." As angry as I was, I sat back down, ripping open the paper envelope and taking out the thick stack of crisp white paper.

"Hope you don't have anywhere to be for the day," I grumbled as my finger swept over the multiple pages, planning on going through it with the speed of a sloth just to get under his skin, eyeing the fine print before taking a deep breath in.

I passed over each word carefully, taking it in for each possibility and I couldn't help my facial expressions as they gave away what was brewing inside of me. "What the heck is this supposed to mean?" I clarified further at the arch of his brows, "To be bound by law for marriage-"

"It means you will be giving yourself to me for marriage," he went over it slowly, "But of course, there will be conditions to that as well."

"Who says I'll marry you?" My disgust was evident as I threw the paper over the table.

"I'll take your father down." He challenged.

"I couldn't care less."

"I'll tear the Pierce Enterprise apart."

"Still wouldn't care. In fact, you might even be doing me a favour." I was too smug for my own good.

"I'll take you to court." And there it was, biting me in the ass.

"I'm sure other women would be more than willing to be your bride, so leave me out of this." Deep breaths, Eleanora, "My father has already agreed to pay off the monetary loss and I'll be okay will being anything but your wife. Even an assistant sounds better."

"Oh, that can be arranged as well if you want to be my assistant," he stated as a matter of fact, his head nodding to the piece of paper I so wanted to burn, silently demanding to read on.

I picked up the contract once again, going through the pages. An inadvertent, sarcastic laugh bubbled at the base of my throat, "Will be compensated?"

"This will not be a happy marriage or a marriage at all for the two of us, it is what I have been stating from the start; a contract, a business deal if you will. I'm just using your downfall as my opportunity."

"How sweet of you, Andrei." I scoffed.

He ignored my comment. "As written, you will be compensated. This contract is to be upheld for two years and for that I will pay you a sum of fifty million."

"You think I can be bought-"

"A hundred and fifty million."

"For fuck's sake, Andrei-"

"Three hundred fifty?"

"Listen, this is not-"

"Five hundred million?"

My lips were sealed as I looked at him, not believing a word coming out of his mouth. "None of this makes sense." I voiced my thoughts out loud.

"What doesn't?" He asked, bored as he toyed with the silver piece of jewellery on his finger.

"All of this." I dropped the contract in front of him, "How is it that I'm here because you think I made your business lose money but now you offering me up to five hundred million to be your wife?"

"I have my priorities set straight." When I said nothing, he continued, "You will be my wife to the outside world. No one, except you and I, would know about the whole contract or that I'm paying you. If you go on telling people, I will ruin you and your life for all that it is."

"Are you threatening me to marry you?" I was in disbelief.

"Yes."

"How romantic, boy." I rolled my eyes, "What happens after the two years?" I enquired.

"We part ways, you being five hundred million richer." It still didn't make any sense but getting rich did sound nice.

"What else is there?"

He passed his hand over the growing
stubble, rubbing his sharp jaw with his palm in thought, "You will have to play the part of being my loving wife for everyone, which includes my family, the business and of course, the media. Not only that, but you will also do as I say for my business. It's all in the contract. " He leaned closer as if knowing he had me backed up into a wall. He was the predator and I, his prey.

"Why even marry if you don't want to?" My head tilted to the side ever so slightly with genuine curiosity.

"I want the family business in my name." He shrugged at his simple intentions.

"You're an heir, you'll get it eventually-"

"I have to fulfil the condition of marriage." The hatred for the word and idea was evident in his tone and how he spat the word, "Or else I'll never get what's rightfully mine." He pushed the contract in front of me, opening up the page I last read.

With a long look at him, I took it in my hands, spending the next few minutes in complete silence as I read over the entire document, occasionally asking him questions regarding the conditions that he had underlined, one of which clearly stated he would owe me nothing upon divorce.

"I won't make it easy." I mused my warning as I placed the contract down after thoroughly going through it. Maybe I had crossed the fine line over to insanity by agreeing to this twisted deal but with the cogs in my brain turning, I knew I would think of a way out.

"I've always liked a challenge." He picked up the document, flipping through the pages before landing on one which had the empty spaces designated for our signatures.

His cold, ocean eyes bore into mine as he slid the document over the table back to me. "I will drive you crazy," I promised, my determined browns challenged as I took out the pen from the inside pocket of my blazer.

He followed my movements closely, "Sanity has never suited me."

My pen hovered over the line, my brain nagging me, trying its hardest to sway me by bombarding my head with all the ways this could end horribly, but I was either too bold or too stupid. I really hoped it wasn't the latter as I signed over the line, giving into his will.

"I'll break your heart, boy." I slid the contract over for him to sign.

His eyes did not falter from mine as he fetched his own pen, finalising the deal with his sophisticated signature next to mine. "You can't break a heart you don't own, Pierce."

***
Hello lovelies, hope you're all doing good. Done with another chapter of Damsel In Business!!

Do let me know of your thoughts on it and feedback would be highly appreciated and helpful.

Stay happy and safe.

Yours truly;
J. N. Light.