Love Under Contract

“Are you ready to have sex with only one person for the next five years?”

I blinked, caught off guard, and nearly choked on my iced coffee. Setting the glass down carefully, I stared at Max sitting across from me, my eyes wide. He looked completely unbothered, sipping his espresso with the same calm composure he always had.

“Wow,” I muttered, shaking my head slowly. “You really don’t waste time, do you?”

Max shrugged, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Figured we should get the awkward stuff out of the way.”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, leaning back in my chair. “And this is how you do it? Jumping straight to the sex part?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, we’re about to be married. It’s part of the deal, isn’t it? I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. Five years, one person.”

I studied him for a moment, considering his words. “You’re right,” I said after a pause. “But if we’re being upfront about everything, we should also talk about kids.”

His expression didn’t change. He just set his cup down and leaned back in his chair. “Kids?”

“Yeah,” I continued, crossing my arms lightly. “We’re not having any, right? I mean, this is a contract marriage. We’re not about to complicate things with children.”

Max shrugged again, his gaze steady. “I don’t see kids in my future, not with this arrangement or... at all. Honestly, I don’t know if I want them. I haven’t really thought about it.”

I nodded thoughtfully, looking down at my coffee. “I do want kids,” I admitted quietly. “Not now, obviously. But someday. I want to be a mom.” I glanced up at him, my tone soft but serious. “But don’t worry. I’ll be on birth control if we ever... get physical. I’m not saying I don’t want your children—I respect your decision. I understand that this is a business deal, and kids... well, they shouldn’t be pawns in something like this.”

Max leaned forward slightly, meeting my eyes. “Like us,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of a chuckle.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “Exactly. Like us.”

We shared a brief moment of understanding, both fully aware of the roles we were playing in our families’ business dealings. Max was the first to break the silence, his expression softening as he added, “Besides, kids complicate things after a divorce. We don’t need that.”

“Agreed,” I replied, nodding. “We’re not making this more complicated than it has to be.”

Max smiled, and for a moment, there was an easy camaraderie between us. It wasn’t romantic, but it was something—an agreement, an understanding.

“One more thing,” Max said, his voice shifting into a more serious tone. “I’m not going to force you into anything, Scarlett. Sex, or otherwise. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

I felt a flicker of warmth at his words. I appreciated the reassurance, especially since this whole arrangement felt so... transactional. “Thanks,” I said quietly. I glanced at him, thinking about how much I liked him—more than I should in a marriage that wasn’t really about love—but I quickly reminded myself what this was. “This is a business deal, after all,” I added with a small smile, though it was laced with a hint of humor. “Albeit a friendlier one.”

Max chuckled softly. “Definitely friendlier. We’re going to be living in the same house, after all.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, keeping my voice light. “Might as well keep things simple.”

We both sat back, the conversation having cleared the air between us. It wasn’t romantic, and that was fine. We had a plan—no kids, no complications. Just two people navigating a five-year arrangement with as much honesty as we could manage.

I swirled the ice in my glass thoughtfully, then set it down with a decisive thud. “So,” I started, looking up at Max, “how do you feel about skipping the whole big wedding thing? We could just go to the courthouse instead.”

Max blinked, clearly surprised. “A courthouse wedding?” He paused, narrowing his gaze slightly. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to be the one who wants the grand, glamorous affair? You’re from one of the wealthiest families in the country, and you’ve got this whole high-profile job writing for that magazine. I thought you’d be all about the spectacle.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “Exactly. I spend all day surrounded by people I barely know. The last thing I want is a full-day affair filled with even more people I don’t know, pretending I’m excited about it. Besides, this is a business deal, remember? Why go all out?”

Max leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You do realize our parents are going to flip, right?”

I laughed softly, nodding. “Oh, I know. My mom is going to hate it. Your dad’s probably going to throw a fit too.” I shrugged. “But I don’t care. A courthouse wedding just makes sense. Quick, simple, and no fuss.”

He studied me for a moment longer, clearly impressed. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

Grinning, I leaned forward. “Help me convince them. I don’t want to go through the charade of a big wedding just to satisfy their egos.”

Max flashed me a grin, the humor returning to his eyes. “Alright. I’ll do my best. But don’t be surprised if it takes more than just us showing up late to rattle them.”

I laughed again, a genuine sound that made the tension between us disappear completely. “Well, if anyone can handle them, it’s you.”

Max shook his head, still smiling as he stood and extended his hand to me. “Ready to face the firing squad?”

“Not really,” I said, standing up and taking his hand, “but let’s get it over with.”

We walked out of the café together, stepping into the lobby of the Sterling Ventures building. The tall glass walls reflected the busy streets outside, but inside, it was quiet—almost too still. The echo of our footsteps filled the space as we moved toward the executive elevators.

I glanced at Max as we stepped inside. “How late do you think we are?”

Max smirked, hitting the button for the top floor. “About an hour.”

I winced. “They’re going to love that.”

Max chuckled. “Oh yeah, they’ll be thrilled.”

The doors slid shut, and the elevator began its smooth ascent, carrying us toward the inevitable confrontation with our impatiently waiting parents.