Terms of Service

The air in Marcus Laurent’s corner office is thin, expensive, and smells faintly of sandalwood and impending ruin.

I’m sitting across from him, my hands folded primly in my lap to hide the fact that they’re shaking. My startup, Aegis, is on the verge of either a global revolution or a spectacular collapse. The difference between those two outcomes lies in the fountain pen currently resting between Marcus’s long, elegant fingers.

He hasn’t looked at the contract in ten minutes. He’s been looking at me.

“You’re certain about this, Chloe?” his voice is a low rumble, the kind that vibrates in your chest. “Once I sign, I own thirty percent of your dream. And I’m not a silent partner.”

“I’ve read the terms, Marcus,” I say, forcing my voice to remain steady. I use his first name because using his title feels like surrendering before the battle has even begun. “I know what I’m getting into.”

He smiles. It’s not a kind smile. It’s the smile of a man who knows exactly what he’s about to take. “I wonder if you do.”

He uncaps the pen and signs with a flourish. The scratch of nib on paper sounds like a closing cell door. He slides the document across the mahogany desk toward me.

I reach for it, but his hand covers mine before I can pull it away. His skin is hot, his grip firm. My pulse leaps, a traitorous rhythm against his palm.

“There is one addendum,” he murmurs, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Clause 14.2. Did your lawyers mention it?”

I frown, scanning the pages. I’d memorized the technical requirements, the burn rates, the governance structures.

14.2: The Founder shall accompany the Lead Investor to all industry events, galas, and social functions as requested, for the duration of the Series A cycle.

I blink. “Social functions? Marcus, I’m a CEO, not a trophy.”

“You are the face of the company I just poured forty million dollars into,” he says, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle over my knuckles. “Your image is my asset. If I’m at a gala, you’re at my side. If I’m at a private dinner, you’re in the chair next to mine.”

“It sounds like you’re hiring an escort, not a partner.”

His eyes darken, a flash of something primitive flickering in the depths. “If I wanted an escort, I’d hire one who knows how to keep her mouth shut and her head down. I want you. I want the fire, the intellect, and the stubbornness that made you build Aegis in a garage.”

He leans forward, his presence overwhelming the small space between us. “Three rules, Chloe. One: you attend when I call. Two: you wear what I provide. Three: you never lie to me.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then the funding is pulled for breach of contract.”

I look at the signature. I look at the man who holds my future in his hands. I’ve spent five years building Aegis. I’ve sacrificed sleep, relationships, and my sanity. I can’t let it die now.

“Fine,” I w...