My signature was already on the bottom.
Henry’s was next to it as a witness.
My father’s estate lawyers had drawn it up, so I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was airtight.
Even Chrissy’s mother wouldn’t be able to argue a way out of this contract for Chrissy.
And Christ, the woman would probably try her damndest to do it. She’d probably try to claw the prize money out of Chrissy’s hands before the ink on the contract was even dry.
But once Chrissy signed? She’d be mine, and I’d do everything in my power to keep her.
My girl would finally be protected, stabilized, and damn well secured. And her Granny Irene would never want for anything for the rest of her days.
I ran my thumb slowly along the edge of the contract.
Henry thought the clause was heavy-handed. He wasn’t wrong, but this wasn’t a proposal. This wasn’t some sappy romance movie playing out in real life.
No… this was the intersection of strategy and necessity. This was a family legacy tied to duty and death and the cold, incessant ticking of a clock I couldn’t outrun, even if I tried.
This was the only way I would ever get my hands on the woman who’d undone me with alcohol wipes and a steady voice telling me to sit my ass down so she could bandage my injured hand.
This was survival, desire, and fate, all colliding in one big, unstoppable train wreck.
I was going to marry Chrissy Jones whether she realized it yet or not, and she was going to walk into that marriage willingly, believing it was her choice… believing she was fighting for her grandmother’s quality of life, for however long she had left to live.
I closed the contract slowly, letting the pages fall together with a soft slap.
Henry didn’t understand. He didn’t know what it felt like to stand in a hardware store with blood dripping down your hand and have the first woman in years look at you without flinching. The man had absolutely no idea what it had meant to me when her eyes had softened instead of going wide and horrified like everyone else’s. Henry had no concept of how her voice had wrapped around my ribs and squeezed until something in me cracked wide open.
But I did.
And I would do anything and everything I could to keep her in my world.
Even this, tricking her into marrying me, binding her to me forever with a contract she would rationalize as a lifeline.
Because for her? It would be exactly that.
And for me? It would be the first breath of air after years of drowning in a desolate need I had no idea how to fill… until now.
I tucked an invitation to the Game and the contract into the inner pocket of the certified mail delivery service hoodie Henry kept on hand for ‘emergencies.’
This was definitely an emergency, and Chrissy Jones’ desk at the mediation office was about to become the place where destiny and manipulation shook hands.
I stepped out of the west wing, hood up, contract in hand, and walked into the cold Baldwin County rain like the devil heading for a deal only he understood.
“I’m coming for you, baby,” I murmured, my voice dropping into a dark, unsteady cadence. “And you’re going to say yes.”
Chapter
Three
CHRISSY
December 10
I could still hearthe echo of shouting behind me as I held the door open and ushered my client out into the hallway. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sterile glow that felt almost cruel after the emotional wreckage we’d just navigated. Melissa Claremont — now finally free to reclaim her maiden name if she wanted it — clutched her handbag like it was a shield, her knuckles white, her eyes rimmed red.
“You did good in there,” I said gently, nudging her forward when her feet stalled. “You didn’t let him bulldoze you. That matters.”
