Chapter 4 4

The Contract Proposal

Damian's POV

Control was everything.

I was raised to believe that feelings had no place in boardrooms. That smiles were currencies. That love was a liability, and loyalty was a myth. My father made sure of it.

Antonio De-Rosie taught his sons how to conquer, not connect. How to negotiate countries, not comfort people. And as much as I despised the man for it, I inherited his rules like a second skin.

I lived by them.

Until she started breaking them.

Camilla.

She wasn't extraordinary by birth. No golden pedigree. No family shares in offshore accounts. She didn't charm rooms or flirt her way into favor.

She was quiet, almost invisible. But she listened-truly listened. And in a world of noise and false flattery, that was dangerous.

Still, I never gave her a second thought. Not in the beginning.

She was just my father's secretary. Just a daughter of the maid and the driver.

Until she wasn't.

Until my brother began smiling at her in that way he used to smile when he wanted something just long enough to destroy it.

I watched Daniel closely after my father's announcement.

Whichever of us married first would inherit De-Rosie Tech. It was ridiculous, archaic and manipulative. But it was law now, written in my father's voice and sealed by the De-Rosie board.

My legacy, the company I'd bled for behind the scenes, was no longer mine to earn-it was mine to win.

And Daniel?

He started playing immediately.

Lavish dinners and weekend trips. Champagne-slick grins and declarations of affection that sounded sweet and shallow.

I ignored most of it. I had plans. Real plans. Expansion into Asia, a restructuring of the failing Rome branch, and the launch of a women-led development initiative in London. I didn't have time for games.

Until I noticed the way Camilla avoided his gaze.

Not in a shy way.

In a way that screamed betrayal.

Her laugh vanished from the hallways. Her step, once light, was cautious. She wore her hair tighter, her eyes duller, and she flinched when Daniel entered the room.

Something happened between them.

Something he wasn't saying-and she couldn't.

And that's when she became more than a pawn in my brother's clumsy chess game.

She became useful.

And more than that... interesting.

I called her into a private conference room one evening after hours.

She hesitated when she entered, arms hugging a folder she didn't need to bring. I gestured to the chair across from me. She sat slowly, her posture too perfect.

Guilt looks a lot like obedience.

"You're not safe here," I said plainly.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're not safe," I repeated. "My brother doesn't take rejection well. And now that the board is watching him like a hawk, you've become his favorite distraction."

"I haven't done anything," she whispered, but her voice cracked.

I didn't push her.

She would never tell me what happened between them-not now. But I didn't need the full story. I just needed a solution.

"You need to leave Milan," I said.

Her eyes widened. "Leave, to where?" She asked.

"I'm expanding into London, a subsidiary brand and fashion-focused. I need someone I can trust to run it. Someone the board won't suspect."

She blinked rapidly. "Why me?"

"Because you're capable, you're quiet and because you're not like the others. You don't want the spotlight, which makes you more trustworthy than half the people on my payroll."

"And you want to send me away?" she asked, voice shaky.

I leaned forward, folding my hands. "No. I want to give you something, a chance to own your own company, a chance to not be beneath anyone again."

She went completely still.

"And," I added, slipping the final card onto the table, "I want you to marry me."

The silence cracked like ice.

Her lips parted. "What?"

I slid a folded document across the table. The contract, clean, concise and legal. No hidden clauses and no emotional promises.

"In name only," I clarified. "A contract marriage. You become my wife on paper and I become the heir. You get your own company and new life. No strings."

She picked it up with trembling fingers. Her name was already there.

Camilla De-Canio.

She read it like it was written in a language she wasn't ready to understand.

"Why me?" she whispered again.

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.

"Because I don't like to lose," I said quietly. "And Daniel... he's reckless. He doesn't deserve this company.

You know it and I know it. And this marriage will ruin his plans."

She stared at the paper, not speaking.

"You don't have to say yes tonight," I added. "But you should think about the future. Your father's health, your mother's job. What I'm offering isn't romantic. But it's real."

She didn't answer.

She just stood slowly, still holding the paper.

And walked out.

I sat alone in that room for a while after she left.

I told myself it was strategy.

Just another transaction, a merger of lives not companies.

But the truth?

The truth was harder to admit.

I admired her.

Not just for her loyalty or her silence. But because she survived this world without armor.

Without cruelty, she hadn't sharpened herself into something dangerous the way I had.

She still believed in kindness-even after whatever Daniel had done.

That made her valuable.

That made her dangerous.

To me.

The next few days passed in silence. She avoided my gaze in meetings, declined lunch invitations and Answered my messages with a single line.

Then, on Thursday, she showed up at my office just after sunset.

No makeup, just a plain dress and an eyes ringed with something deeper than fatigue.

She sat down across from me and unfolded the contract.

"I want three clauses added," she said without preamble. "First: I maintain full creative and executive control of the London brand. Second: if the marriage is dissolved, my company remains mine. Third: this stays private. No media and no public announcement. I don't want my mother finding out from a tabloid."

I looked at her, a really looked.

The girl who once stood at my father's door, begging for a job, was gone.

This woman was no one's maid's daughter. No one's secretary.

She was fire in quiet form.

"Agreed," I said.

She slid the signed contract across the table.

"Then we're married," she said flatly.

I leaned back.

"No," I corrected gently. "We're aligned."

She nodded once, stood up, and left the office without another word.

I watched her walk away.

And felt something I hadn't felt in years.

Uncertainty.

Because even with all my control, all my calculations... I had no idea what Camilla was going to do next.

But I knew one thing for sure.

Daniel had underestimated her.

And now?

She was mine to protect.

And his to regret.