Chapter 7 Chapter 7: A Marital Contract.

Chapter 7: A Marital Contract.

Nicolai-

I watched as the shock of my words washed over her, her lips parting slightly as she tried to process what I had just said.

For a brief, inappropriate moment, I nearly laughed.

The expression on her face—wide-eyed, completely unguarded—was almost too tempting. But I suppressed it, drawing in a slow breath to steady myself.

“Uh… Nicolai…”

The way she said my name—

My chest tightened. It was subtle. Soft. Almost uncertain. And yet, something about it stirred something unfamiliar inside me. Something I didn’t understand. Something I wasn’t entirely comfortable acknowledging.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

She froze.

“I—I wasn’t aware—”

Her words cut off abruptly as a quiet, unmistakable sound broke the silence.

Her stomach.

For a second, neither of us moved. Then the laugh I had been holding back finally slipped free.

“I take it,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips, “you didn’t get a chance to eat at that dinner party?”

A blush spread across her cheeks almost instantly, coloring her expression in a way that felt oddly… endearing.

“No,” she admitted, glancing down at herself. “I didn’t really have much of an appetite anyway.”

A small pause.

“Guess that’s changed.”

I studied her for a moment longer.

The chaos of the evening hadn’t left much room for observation—but now, standing here, in the quiet aftermath, I found myself noticing her in a way I hadn’t allowed before.

The black cocktail dress she wore clung to her in a way that was both elegant and dangerous. It accentuated her figure effortlessly—subtle, but impossible to ignore. Unbidden, images from her social media surfaced in my mind. Dresses. Casual clothes. Candid moments.

Every single one of them… striking. My gaze darkened before I forced myself to look away, clearing my throat.

“I’ll tell you what,” I said, steadying my tone. “Why don’t you eat first. After that, my maid, Ms. Gayle, will show you to your room.”

“My room?” she echoed, blinking. “I thought we would—”

“I imagine,” I interrupted calmly, “you’d prefer to get comfortable before we talk.”

She paused, considering it.

Then—

“Oh shit.”

The words slipped out under her breath.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

She gave a small, sheepish smile.

“I just realized… I don’t have anything to wear.”

I stilled.

Of all the oversights tonight, this was… an obvious one. A flicker of irritation passed through me—not at her, but at myself. I had been so focused on ensuring her safety that I hadn’t considered something so basic. Reaching for my phone, I dialed immediately.

“Yes, sir?” Gayle’s voice came through.

“Good evening, Gayle. Ms. Pierce will be staying with us tonight, and it just occurred to me she doesn’t have any clothing with her. Would you mind picking up a few things? Just enough to last until tomorrow. Syndell’s should still be open.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll leave right away. Also—Thomas prepared a pork roast this evening. We weren’t certain whether you and Ms. Pierce had eaten.”

I allowed myself a slight smile.

“Then your timing is perfect.”

Gayle and Thomas had been with me for years—more family than staff, despite how they insisted on maintaining formality.

“Ms. Pierce is a size… two?” I added, glancing toward Nova.

She shook her head with a small smile.

“Four.”

I smirked faintly.

“Size four.”

“Understood. I’ll return shortly.”

The call ended, and I looked up to find Nova watching me. Not casually. Not idly. But intently—those eyes locked onto mine in a way that made something in my chest shift again.

Unsettling.

“My chef prepared roast pork,” I said, forcing my attention elsewhere. “Would that be acceptable?”

Her entire expression brightened.

“Yes! I love roast pork. Oh—please tell me he made mashed potatoes.”

I huffed out a quiet laugh. For a moment, she didn’t look like the woman I had met earlier—composed, strained, weighed down.

She looked… lighter. Younger. Untouched by everything that had happened.

“Well,” I said, gesturing toward the kitchen, “why don’t you go find out.”

Her face lit up immediately.

“Yay! Oh—can I take my shoes off?”

I nodded.

Without hesitation, she slipped them off, heels dangling from her fingers as she hurried toward the kitchen. And just like that, her height dropped several inches.

I watched her go, my expression tightening slightly. She couldn’t have been taller than five-three. Small. Light. Fragile. Kieran would have destroyed her. The thought settled coldly in my chest.

“So,”

Aaron’s voice cut in, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I’m guessing dinner went well?”

I shot him an unimpressed look.

“It went exactly as intended.”

He smirked, clearly satisfied with that answer—until his expression shifted, more serious now.

“And she knows?” he asked. “About the lottery. The pregnancy?”

“She knows what she needed to know.”

His brow furrowed.

“That’s not what I asked. Does she know the full truth about her sister?”

I paused.

Then—

“No.”

I turned and walked toward my study, knowing he would follow. He always did.

“Wait—you didn’t tell her?” he asked, disbelief lacing his tone. “Why? You thought she’d back out if she knew everything?”

I settled behind my desk, opening the drawer with deliberate calm.

“Back out of what?” I replied evenly. “She hasn’t agreed to anything.”

“She came here,” he pointed out. “That usually means something.”

“It means,” I said, “that coming here was in her best interest. Regardless of what she decides afterward.”

Aaron dropped into the chair across from me, watching me carefully.

“Then I really don’t understand,” he said. “Why hold back information if you weren’t worried about her changing her mind?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, my thoughts drifted—uninvited—to the look on her face just moments ago. That smile. Those eyes. Something inside me tightened.

“…I didn’t want Adams to change his mind.”

The words left my mouth before I fully processed them. Aaron blinked once. Then leaned back, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s new.”

I frowned.

“What is?”

“That,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward my chest, “whatever that is. The whole ‘strategic emotional manipulation for the sake of one woman’s comfort’ thing.”

“That’s not what this is,” I snapped.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, completely unconvinced. “You know, most people just call it what it is.”

I didn’t respond.

Because I already knew where this was going.

“Feelings,” he said anyway.

The word lingered in the air. Unwelcome. Unnecessary.

“Those annoying little disruptions in your chest?” he continued, rising from his seat. “Yeah. That’s them.”

My jaw tightened. Feelings? For her? That was—ridiculous. Too soon. Too illogical.

Too—

“Is this the contract?” Aaron asked, picking up the document from my desk.

I nodded.

My thoughts were no longer organized enough to respond to anything else. Feelings weren’t part of this. They never had been.

Not for me.

And yet…

Every time she looked at me—

Something shifted. Aaron tapped the papers lightly.

“I’ll bring this to the living room,” he said. “You’re going to explain it to her, right?”

“Yes,” I replied.

———

Shortly after leaving my study, I made my way toward the kitchen to check on Nova. The moment I stepped inside, the sound of laughter and animated conversation greeted me.

“No kidding! So you can cook and bake? Wow—Nico’s going to love—”

I cleared my throat. The effect was immediate. Both of them turned. For reasons I didn’t care to examine too closely, something about the sight of Aaron standing there—laughing with her, easing so naturally into her space—irritated me.

More than it should have.

“They made mashed potatoes!”

Nova’s bright voice cut through my thoughts, her excitement so genuine it caught me off guard. She looked… happy. Open. Like the weight of everything earlier had loosened, even if only slightly.

Just like that, the tightness in my chest eased.

My lips curved faintly.

“I’m glad to hear. Thomas is an excellent chef…” I said, stepping closer. “Though from what I just heard, he may have some competition.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly, a rosy, red color making her even more alluring. I moved toward the island, catching Aaron’s knowing smirk out of the corner of my eye. I shot him a brief glare before turning my attention back to her.

For a moment, I simply watched. Barefoot. Relaxed. Smiling over something as simple as mashed potatoes.

Safe.

“Nova,” I said, my voice quieter now.

She looked up at me, a piece of her meal forgotten halfway to her lips.

“I know you have a lot of questions,” I continued. “And I intend to answer every one of them. But before we get into any of that…”

There was a subtle shift in the room. The lightness from moments ago faded—not gone, but softened by something more serious settling in its place. Aaron stepped forward and placed a folder on the kitchen island.

The contract.

Nova paused mid-bite, her expression flickering with uncertainty as she glanced between it… and me. I drew in a slow breath. This was the moment. The decision that would change everything—for both of us. My gaze held hers, steady and unwavering.

“Before we go any further,” I said calmly, “there’s something I need to know.”

The air stilled. Even Aaron said nothing. A quiet beat passed—just long enough for the weight of the question to settle between us.

Then—

“Will you accept my proposal?”

Silence followed. Not loud. Not dramatic. But heavy. The kind that lingers, pressing in from all sides. Watching her, I realized something unsettling—

For the first time in a long time…

The answer mattered.