Isabella sat across from Samuel in the sleek, dimly lit study. The heavy silence between them was broken only by the faint ticking of an antique clock.
Samuel slid a contract across the table. "Sign this, and I'll help you get back what you lost."
She didn't even glance at the document. "And what do you get in return?"
He leaned forward, eyes sharp and unreadable. "You."
Isabella's fingers curled into fists beneath the table. "You mean marriage?"
"Not in name," he said, voice low. "But in every other way that matters."
She looked at him, really looked at him. The man who once walked past her like she was air now spoke like he wanted to own her. Control her.
And maybe… maybe that's exactly what she needed.
Isabella reached for the pen. "Fine. But let me be clear: I don't fall in love. Not again."
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Neither do I."
As ink met paper, Isabella felt a chill crawl up her spine. She was walking into a different kind of trap now.
One of her own making.