The Quiet Clause

He lets out a sharp breath, almost a growl, shaking his head lightly, a dangerous energy simmering beneath his calm facade. "You're infuriating."

"And you haven't even seen the half of it," I murmur, smirking lightly, letting the fire linger.

For a heartbeat, he just stands there, the energy between us almost tangible, like a live wire sparking in the air. And then-he steps closer. Not enough to touch me, not yet, but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint trace of cologne I recognize too well.

I don't flinch. I let him come. I meet his gaze evenly, smirk fading into something sharper, colder. "Careful," I murmur. "You're dangerously close to losing your control."

He tilts his head, lips just a fraction from curling in that half-smile, half-snarl he reserves for me alone. "Maybe I like losing control... with you," he mutters under his breath, almost too quiet to hear-but I do. I always do.

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Katherine Prescott didn't agree to the marriage.
She signed it.

No vows written in love. No promises made in good faith.
Just clauses, expectations, and a year she's meant to survive.

Jason Dalton doesn't want a wife - he wants stability, control, and an image the world can't question.

What neither of them planned for is what happens when silence becomes a language... and restraint starts to crack.

This isn't a love story.

It's a contract.

*Updates weekly. Mature themes.