Bound by Honor

Chapter 2: The Agreement

The Farnsworth estate's library was a sanctuary of dark wood and endless shelves, but tonight, it felt suffocating. Athena sat on the edge of a leather armchair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Across from her, Pietro Farnsworth loomed, his presence as imposing as the carved oak desk he leaned against.

"Athena," her father began, his voice calm but laced with expectation. "I know this isn't what you wanted."

"You don't say," she replied sharply, earning a slight frown from him.

"Enough," he snapped, his tone hardening. "This isn't a negotiation. This is about ensuring the Farnsworth name remains untarnished. Do you think the world hasn't noticed our... vulnerabilities? The Devereux contract is failing. The lawsuits have drained us. And now this marriage proposal has given us a way out."

Athena's mind churned with resentment. She had spent years cleaning up her family's messes, sacrificing friendships and relationships for their sake. Now they wanted her to give up her independence, her autonomy, for what? A strategic alliance?

"And if I say no?" she challenged, her voice cool.

Pietro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Then we lose everything we've built. The board will see us as weak. Investors will pull out. This isn't just about you, Athena. It's about all of us."

"Sacrifices must be made," her mother chimed in, her tone detached, as though this were nothing more than a business decision.

Athena felt her stomach twist. She had been raised to be pragmatic to make the tough calls. This is just another deal, she told herself. Another problem to solve.

She straightened her shoulders. "Fine. I'll do it."

Her father's gaze softened, but only slightly. "Good."

"But let me be clear," Athena continued, her voice sharp. "This is for the family's reputation. Nothing more. Don't expect me to play house with Leandro Devereux."

---

Meanwhile, across town in the sprawling, eclectic Devereux mansion, Leandro was pacing the length of his father's study. Arthur Devereux sat behind his desk, swirling a glass of whiskey.

"This is insane," Leandro muttered, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "You expect me to marry some corporate robot just to fix your mistakes?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone, boy. This isn't about mistakes. This is about survival. If you had spent half as much time working for the family as you do painting walls, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Leandro froze mid-stride, glaring at his father. "Right. Because me turning into your puppet would magically fix the company's sinking ship."

Arthur slammed his glass down on the desk. "Enough! You've had your fun, Leandro. But the world doesn't revolve around your damn art. It's time you grew up and did something for this family."

Leandro's jaw tightened. He wanted to shout, to tell his father exactly where he could shove his so-called responsibility, but the weight of years of conflict stopped him. No matter how much he hated it, Arthur Devereux had the power to make his life miserable.

"And what if I say no?" Leandro finally asked, crossing his arms.

Arthur smirked. "Then you're on your own. No trust fund. No support. Nothing. Let's see how far your 'talent' gets you when the bills pile up."

Leandro clenched his fists, anger bubbling under the surface. He hated being manipulated and hated being backed into a corner. But he wasn't naïve enough to think he could survive without his father's money. His art might be his passion, but it wasn't paying the bills-not yet, anyway.

"Fine," he ground out, his voice cold. "But let me make one thing clear. This marriage? It's nothing more than a business arrangement. Don't expect me to suddenly play the doting husband."

Arthur raised his glass in a mock toast. "Whatever you say, son. As long as you play your part."

---

The café Leandro chose for their meeting was a stark contrast to the situation they found themselves in. It was small, crowded, and smelled of fresh espresso and pastries-a far cry from the grandeur of their family mansions.

Athena arrived first, dressed in her usual polished style: a tailored blazer, black slacks, and heels that clicked sharply against the tiled floor. She spotted Leandro immediately, slouched in a corner booth, his shirt untucked, and a sketchpad in front of him.

"You're late," she said briskly, sliding into the seat across from him.

Leandro glanced at his watch. "Five minutes. Relax, princess."

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

He smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Fine. What do you want me to call you? Ice Queen? Corporate Barbie?"

Athena's eyes narrowed. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not thrilled about this arrangement, but I'll do what's necessary to protect my family. Can you manage to do the same?"

Leandro raised an eyebrow. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not exactly looking forward to being chained to you either. But if this is what it takes to get my father off my back, so be it."

She studied him for a moment, trying to reconcile the scruffy, sarcastic man in front of her with the son of one of the wealthiest families in the city. "Fine," she said finally. "Then we'll set some ground rules."

Leandro chuckled. "Rules? Already? God, you're predictable."

"Rule one," she said, ignoring him. "This marriage is in name only. We keep our lives as separate as possible."

"Works for me," Leandro said.

"Rule two," she continued. "We present a united front in public. No scandals, no drama."

Leandro smirked. "You mean I can't embarrass you at those fancy charity galas? Tragic."

"Rule three," Athena pressed on, her tone icy. "No emotional entanglements. This is strictly business."

Leandro leaned forward, his smirk fading into something more serious. "Don't worry, Athena. This will only be on paper."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, neither spoke.

Athena's internal monologue was a storm of conflicting emotions. He's infuriating, smug, and completely insufferable. But at least he understands the stakes.

Leandro, for his part, was trying to read her-this rigid, no-nonsense woman who clearly thought he was beneath her. She's sharp, I'll give her that. But God, she's wound tighter than a spring. This is going to be hell.

"Agreed?" Athena asked, breaking the silence.

"Agreed," Leandro said, extending a hand.

She hesitated for a moment before shaking it, his grip warm and firm.

And just like that, the deal was sealed.