Amelia.

 The bookstore always smelled like old papers and something close to peace, or rather freedom. It was the one place that felt like mine even though it was not.

 The store was someone else's, the books, the shelves and the paycheck at the end of the week was barely enough to call my own. But still, staying in the bookstore everyday made me forget for a little while that I had no problem waiting for me at home.

 Iris turned the key in the lock and rattled it once again to make sure it was properly held. ''Okay,'' she announced, smiling, dropping the keys into her bag with a satisfying clink. ''That is done. Another day of surviving minimum wage.'' She flipped her hair dramatically in a whim.

 I smiled, pulling my jacket to cover my arms due to the cold. Velmoor at this hour was cold air and distant traffic. ''You say that every night.'' She fell in step beside me, her black wavy hair swaying at her back. ''Because every night, it is true.'' She looped her arms into mine, the small half moon pendant she wore catching the light as she moved. ''You know what? I did the math again today.'' ''Irissss.'' I dragged the last part dramatically. ''Just hear me out.'' She whined in her little voice, her warm grey eyes bright.'' ''If we both keep saving the way we are right now then by next year.....next year, Amelia, we could have enough for an apartment. A real one, with two bedrooms and a kitchen that doesn't have your aunt in it.'' I laughed softly, imagining a life like that. ''Two bedrooms,'' I repeated, tasting the words on my tongue. ''Two bedrooms.'' She affirmed. ''One for you, one for me. You can put as many books as you want in your room. We split the rent, the groceries and most importantly....the freedom.'' I looked at her for a moment. The word freedom settling somewhere in my chest. ''You've been thinking about this all day, huh?'', I said. ''I think about it every day.'' She said simply. Her fate was just like mine. Living with people who didn't care the least how you were coping or how you were being treated. ''Don't you?'', she asked softly. I didn't respond immediately, just stared at the street lamps ahead. ''Every day,'' I said quietly. ''Every single day.'' Iris squeezed my arm. We kept walking in silence like that and that was one thing about Iris, she never made silence awkward or feel like it needed to be fixed. We arrived at the junction and Iris stopped. She always did. Her direction was to the left and two blocks away while I had to go through the right, longer and darker, ending at the house on the far end. A place I had never been able to call home. ''Same time tomorrow,'' she said. ''Same time tomorrow.'' I agreed. She pulled me into a quick tight hug, one that always felt like comfort and the next minute she was gone, her black hair disappearing around the corner. I stood there for a second longer than I needed to. then I turned right, and walked home. . The lights were on when I got home, I could see them through the window panes. I muttered my silent pep talks, my heart beating faster than normal. And that was how I felt every single day returning home, fear, not knowing what would happen again today. I pushed the door open and stepped in. The first thing I saw was my uncle. Mateo Alvarez sat on the armchair by the far wall and the sight of him made me halt in my steps. There was dried blood that trickled from his left temple and down to his chin. His left eye, swollen and half shut. His shirt crumpled. I had never seen him look this miserable. ''Uncle Mateo-'' I started, stepping closer. ''Don't,'' My aunt's voice cut through the room like a sharp blade. I turned. My Aunt, Auntie Rita, stood by the kitchen doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression carved in the unpleasant one she always reserved for me. ' ''Don't'' she repeated. ''Don't walk in here like you don't know. Like you are not the reason he came back looking like this.'' I blinked, trying to process her words. ''I don't...what are you talking about? I just left work and I don't know what..'' ''Shut the fuck up.'' her voice thundered across the room. ''Everything.'' She breathed out, her chest heaving. ''Everything that happens in this house always ties back to you. You being here alone is bad luck.'' I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it. There was no point in explaining myself, there was never a point in this house, especially not with Auntie Rita. By the window, my cousin Natalie, sat on a couch, chronically unbothered by what was going on since it didn't affect her directly. She had one foot folded beneath the other, scrolling through her phone and her jaw moving in slow frantic rhythm around a piece of gum. She didn't look up, not even once. I turned back to my uncle and his gaze was already on mine. ''Uncle Mateo,'' I said, carefully approaching him. ''What happened to you?'' He was quiet for a moment, his gaze still holding mine. Then he straightened gently on the chair he sat on, his bones clearly in pain. ''You are leaving this house,'' he said. ''By morning.'' My world stopped. Time stilled, while I tried to process the magnitude of his words. The words landed like a blow to me. I stared at him, maybe for a reason or an explanation. ''What?'' ''You heard me.'' ''I-'' I shook my head slowly. ''I don't understand. Leaving to go where? And what are you talking about?'' ''You have been sold.'' His words sounded rehearsed, flat. ''To cover a debt I owe. By morning, you would go to the man I owe. That's all you need to know.'' The room went very quiet. I could hear Natalie's consistent chewing of gum, the faint sound of traffic outside. I could hear my own heartbeat, which had clearly become very loud and fast. ''Sold.'' I tasted his words and it felt foreign, like a different world. ''You sold me.'' ''it is done.'' He said flatly. I got on my knees instantly, tears gushing down my cheeks in streams. ''Uncle Mateo, I have a life. I have a job...I....I have dreams....I have.....I'm trying to....you just cannot.'' The words refused to make sense. ''Please don't do this. You can't do this to me.'' I begged. He looked at me for a long moment. Then he stood up quietly, and walked out of the room. No words. No explanations. Just the faint sound of his footsteps and the click of his bedroom door. I broke down, crying hard on the floor, hitting my chest rapidly. I saw my Aunt move towards me in hurried strides and before I could react, I felt it, before the sound came. Her sharp, open palm cracking against my left cheeks so hard my head snapped sideways. I barely had time to process before the second one came, harder on the other cheek and the sting spread so fast across my face like fire. I pressed my hand so hard to my face, protecting myself. ''Whore!'' her voice close enough, loud and vicious. Every venom of hatred she had for me echoed in her voice, laced beneath her words. ''Useless, ungrateful orphan.'' She spat on me. ''You think you have dreams? You think you have a future? You have nothing. You never had anything. You came into this house with nothing and you will leave with nothing. Go and do what you do best, be a slave to whichever man will take you.'' She stepped back. Natalie glanced at us and focused on her phone again. I sat still on the floor. I didn't want to fall apart in her presence or give her the satisfaction that her action had an effect on me. I stood up and walked past her, down the hallway and into the small room that had been mine for years. The one with the thin matress and the small bookshelf. I sat at the edge of the bed, the night stretching long and heavy in front of me. A knock interrupted me far into the end of the night. The door opened and my Aunt walked in, two heavy bags of laundry in her hands. She dropped them on the floor, hissed a long sigh and exited the room like a ghost. I checked the time on my phone and it was already past midnight. I did the laundry without a word. Nobody brought me food. I did not ask for any either. Asking never worked for me in this house, it only gave them an opportunity to remind me of my place. I worked through the laundry in the small utility room across the kitchen while my mind was somewhere else entirely. Sold. The words kept circling, kept coming back. An apartment. With Iris. Two bedrooms, a kitchen and a door with a lock that I had keys to. After that, school because I was deprived of it and it was one thing no one could take back. And then a business, something small and bookish and my own creation. That was the plan. That was the only plan I had ever had. I wrung out the last piece of fabric, my hands cold from the water. Then a thought came, slowly, quietly. What if this was the escape route? I let it sit there without chasing it away. Because the truth that I had been pressing down for long was that I had no future in this house. So leaving was coming either ways. I dried my hands slowly, and then another thought came. But what if he was worse? That thought came quieter than the first one, harder to argue with. A man who accepted a human as bargain for a dent. A man like that, with that kind of money and in a city like velmoor.....What did his house look like? What did he look like? What if I was walking out of one cage and straight into another that was simply larger and better furnished? I walked back to my room with that thought in mind, lay down on the thin mattress without eating and let sleep evade me. By the time the first pale of morning sunlight came, I had made up my mind. . . My uncle was in the kitchen when I found him, a cup of coffee in front of him, untouched. He looked worse in the morning light. His bruise had deepened overnight, purpling at his temple and he sat with the careful stillness of a man whose ribs were complaining. I stood in the doorway. ''I'll go.'' I said. He looked up. ''But I have conditions,'' my voice was steady, hiding every hint of nervousness. ''I am not going there as a property or a slave. I will draw up a contact marriage, one that has terms. If he agrees to them, I will go and if he does not, you find another way to pay your debt.'' My uncle stared at me for a long time. Then wordlessly, he reached for his phone. He dialled and on the second ring the line connected. I listened to him tell the man, Mr. Cross that I had agreed and a car should be sent. That was it. No turning back. My uncle hung up before turning to me. ''it's arranged. The car would be here in an hour.'' He said simply. I nodded once, before disappearing back to my room. I changed into the only clean thing I could find. A faded blue jeans and a plain white shirt, I folded the envelope of money I had saved into my already packed bag, tucked three of my favourite books and sat at the edge of the bed, looking at the small space that had once never felt like mine. I did not say goodbye to Auntie Rita. I did not say goodbye to Natalie. When a knock came at my door, I picked up my bag, walked through the house without looking back and stepped outside. A black car waited at the curb. Long, sleek, black and expensive. A driver stood beside it in a dark suit, his expression professionally blank. He opened the door without a word. I slid in. The door closed behind me with a soft thud. I sat on the cool leather seats in silence, my bag in my lap and my hands folded over it. The car moved smoothly, passing the street I had walked every day for the past years and into the traffic of velmoor. My heart was beating too hard, I could feel it in my throat, in my fingertips, in the spaces between my ribs. I had a contract in my bag. One I had spent all night drafting. I would present them to him the moment I walked through his door. I would not arrive frightened, or at least let him see it. I had survived Auntie Rita for years. I could survive one meeting. The car turned into a different part of Velmoor. Taller trees, taller buildings, cleaner and more deliberate. I exhaled slowly. And then pep talked myself. "You have done harder things than this. You have done harder things Amelia, and still here. You can survive this." The car slowed and through the windshield, a building came into view. Glass, stone and impossible height. One that made you feel small before you even stepped inside. My heart slammed again, hard against my ribs. The driver turned off the engine, walked out and opened the door for me quietly. My feet landed on the concrete floor and the moment I had feared was right before my eyes. I was going to walk through that door and come face to face with the man who owned me now. The door opened and our eyes met. His gaze swept across me from head to toe and the first thing I heard was a scoff.

Lucien.

 I was in the middle of a phone call when she walked in. I did not look up and that was intentional. I wanted to know the type of person she was. Some would fidget, some would clear their throats, some would keep switching from one foot to another, their eyes darting around, searching. That was the life of the middle class. I finished my call, set the phone face down and looked up. Our eyes met and the first sound that escaped me was a scoff. She was not what I expected. Mateo Alvarez was a man of poor decisions and I expected something like that. I expected someone dragged in here, eyes red from crying, dressed up desperately in whatever her uncle forced her, to look presentable. But what stood in the centre of my office instead was a girl clad in a faded pair of jeans and a plain white shirt, her hair tied in a messy bun. No single effort made or performance prepared. Just her. She was young, with hazel blue eyes warm in color as they moved around like someone trying to memorize the territory they had just walked into. The oversized jean she wore did very little to hide the quiet curves beneath them, though I doubted that was her intention. She wasn't dressed for anyone. She dressed comfortably. Behind her, Dominic closed the office door without a sound and stationed himself beside it, arms folded and expression unreadable as always. I leaned into my chair, holding her gaze now. And she stared back. Most people withered under my gaze and could not last less than four seconds but she held mine, longer than four seconds without looking away. Intriguing. ''Ámelia Nightshade,'' I said. ''Mr. Cross.'' She replied, her tone clipped. I studied her for a moment longer than necessary before speaking again. ''Sit.'' She did, placing her bag on her lap and held my gaze across the desk with those hazel blue eyes again and waited. My lips almost curled into a smile. Almost. ''Your uncle said you agreed to the arrangement.'' I passed a bottle of water towards her. ''Yes.'' She said. ''But I have my own terms to this arrangement.'' The room grew quiet and from the corner of my eyes, I saw Dominic raise his brows. I tilted my head slightly. ''Your own terms?'' ''Yes.'' She sated simply. She reached into the bag without hesitation, drew out a piece of paper and leaned forward, pushing it to the edge of my desk. ''Á marriage contract.'' She said. ''With my rules. I refuse to become a bargain for a debt. If you agree to the terms, I stay for eight months and pay up every single coin he owed you and if you refuse..'' she paused, looking into my eyes more intently. ''You find another way to recover your eighty million.'' The silence that followed her information was the kind that never argued. I reached forward and unfolded the piece of paper, her handwriting neat and deliberate. I read each rule again and again before setting the paper down. She was still watching me, her expression fixed, like someone who had come to a conclusion. Her rules were five: She keeps her job at the bookstore. A sex free marriage. No intimacy of any kind. Her earnings goes directly to her savings and the debt alone. No public display of affection without consent. Freedom of movement. She comes and goes without reporting her whereabouts. I was quiet for a moment. In twelve years of running Cross Empire, no one, no one had ever presented their own terms. Not in boardroom meetings and in places far darker than boardrooms. Men twice her age flinched under my scrutinity. But here she sat, holding my gaze and presenting rules. ''Ýou spent your night drafting this.'' I said. Something flickered in her face for a fraction. ''That is not relevant.'' ''To me, it is. It tells me you spent the night thinking instead of crying. Useful information.'' I nodded. Her jaw tightened for barely a second and then released. ''Are you accepting my rules or discussing how I spent my night, Mr. Cross.'' Dominic's gaze flickered to her and then back to his position. I looked at the paper again. Her rules were strategic, she wanted to ensure that she walked out of this arrangement with her money, job, dignity and freedom. I set the paper down before speaking. ''Rule two,'' I studied her. ''A sex free marriage.'' She replied without blinking. ''Correct.'' ''You should be aware that you are entirely not my type.'' My voice level was low and unbothered. Something flickered across her face and then she swallowed. ''Then we have no problem.'' After a beat, I spoke. ''What is your full name?.'' She blinked, ''You already know my name.'' ''I know what your uncle told me.'' I said, ''Now I'm asking you.'' ''Amelia Nightshade.'' She responded after an eternity. ''Good.'' I folded the contract. ''I accept your contract.'' She exhaled, so quietly I almost missed it. ''But I have my own terms.'' I continued. Her eyes snapped up to mine immediately, her brows raising slightly. ''Since you have proposed a marriage contract, we marry today.'' Her composure flickered, ''Today.'' ''This evening.'' I said. ''I don't negotiate timelines. If we are doing this, we do it properly and we do it now.'' She said nothing. I watched her process my information. ''Continue.'' She said. ''You will live here for eight months. We share a room-'' ''That wasn't in my terms.'' She cut me off. I rolled my tongue across my left cheek slowly. ''It is in mine. Sharing a room does not violate any of your rules. Read them again if you need to.'' ''Continue,'' she said again, quieter this time. ''If you see me on the news with another woman, you will not comment on it or question it. What I do outside of this arrangement and five rules is none of your concern.'' I said. ''Fine.'' Her jaw tightened. I continued, ''And the eight months, not a day more. At the end of it, debt is settled, contract dissolves and you walk away.'' She looked at me steadily, ''Eight months.'' ''Eight months.'' I repeated. This was a transaction and nothing else. ''Agreed.'' She said simply. I picked up my phone. ''then we have an arrangement. Welcome to Cross Estates, Miss Nightshade.'' She didn't smile, didn't reply, didn't thank me. She simply sat there in her faded jeans and plain white shirt, her bag on her lap and her hazel blue eyes looking at me, deciding how much of a problem she had gotten herself into. I made three calls in a quick session. A stylist, a make-up artist, a dressmaker who owed me a favour and would get a fit ready in three hours and then a fourth call to an officiant who handled paper work that men like me needed. I set the phone down and looked across the desk. She was still watching me. ''Someone will take you upstairs,'' I said. ''You will be prepared there.'' ''Prepared?.'' She questioned, like the word felt strange. ''For the wedding.'' I relayed. ''It takes place tonight Miss Nightshade, and I suggest you make peace with that.'' She stood, picked her bag, straightened her shirt and looked at me one final time. Those warm hazel eyes unreadable, giving me absolutely nothing that I had earned. Then she turned and followed Dominic through the door. I picked up the contract when the door closed behind them. And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I found myself thinking that the next eight months would not go the same way I had planned. My phone lit up on the desk beside me. Stephanie Russo. Calling. I let it ring without glancing back at the caller ID.