Chapter 4

Adriana’s POV

“How would you like to enter a contract with me?”

The music stopped for a breath as I asked. Ray’s eyebrow rose slightly. The band slipped into a new tune, and I pulled him into a second dance without waiting for partners to switch.

Normally, a second dance with the same partner was scandalous unless you were married or engaged. I didn’t care. Gossip could spread..it would make my proposal urgent and public, and it gave me the pleasure of watching Damian look stunned.

I caught Selene in the crowd, confusion folding into panic. Damian’s jaw was tight, eyes dark. The sight only sharpened my resolve.

“What kind of contract is the woman proposing?” Ray asked quietly.

Perfect. Businessmen liked deals and results. I needed to sell him both a plan and an advantage.

“As you probably know, the outbreak is still killing people,” I said, keeping my voice low as we moved.

“Yes, I heard you were ill. It is good to see you recovered,” Ray said politely, though curiosity lingered.

“I was lucky,” I said. “My family and doctors did what they could. Too many others haven’t been so fortunate. If we act now to improve sanitation and water systems, we can save lives. If Martins International supplies the materials and logistics, our plan can move faster than any government program.”

Ray’s interest sharpened. His company bridged sea and city. He understood logistics, and he liked meaningful projects framed as solutions producing profit and public good.

“You want my fleet to supply the work,” he said.

“Exactly. We design the infrastructure and manage rollout. I run the project, your company supplies materials. That’s the business part.”

He laughed, deep and amused. “And the second part?”

“I hear you are looking for a wife,” I said flatly, as if another line item on a ledger.

Ray’s smile showed teeth. “Are you offering to fill that role?”

“If you are willing. I’ll have to marry someone eventually. I’d rather it be someone reliable and principled.”

He studied me, curiosity and appraisal in his eyes. “How do you know I’ll be faithful?”

“I trust my instincts,” I lied smoothly. “You have a reputation for honor. That is rare.”

He raised a brow. “I expected the lady might seek love instead of a political match.”

“I am not naive,” I said. “Marriage is often currency. I want a partner who keeps promises and protects his household.”

His gaze turned intense, heat at the nape of my neck. The ballroom vanished for a second. Then my heel hit a seam, and I pitched backward.

Before I could fall, two broad hands steadied me. Ray held me close; my chest brushed his coat. The scent of sea and spices rose around him, clean and startling compared to the stale rum on Damian’s breath.

For anyone watching, it looked like a practiced dip. A few women whispered about the picture it made. My face burned. Ray’s lips quirked; his eyes softened, devastating in a blink.

The second song ended. Damian moved through the crowd, intent to cut in.

“I feel faint,” I said, sounding fragile. “Perhaps the room is too warm.”

Ray read me and released me smoothly. “Shall we move to the terrace?”

We stepped away before Damian could reach us. He faltered, forced to dance with another to save face. Selene’s expression soured as she watched him.

Ray led me to a quiet terrace table. His aide produced a digital tablet. We sat within view of the ballroom, so nothing could be called secret.

“Shall we go over our conditions?” Ray asked.

“Does that mean you accept?” Excitement edged my voice.

“Let’s write the terms first,” he said, smiling. “You might not like all mine.”

He looked almost wolfish; a tiny thrill passed through me. He was testing me. Good. I liked tests.

With his aide recording, I outlined the project: sanitation improvements, targeted districts first, materials and shipping handled by his firm, labor supervised by my teams. I spoke in precise terms to sound competent.

Ray nodded, asking which districts and timeline. I gave him what he needed and turned to the marriage clauses.

“I will not tolerate infidelity,” I said. “Nor will I accept violence between husband and wife. Any disputes will be resolved with words, not force.”

He cocked an eyebrow but did not object. I added, “We will be partners in public projects and respect each other’s work. No interference unless agreed.”

He folded his hands. “I like that. I can agree.”

Then he set his conditions. “The Martins house needs an heir. Pressures from family and board. I must produce a child in the next three years. It’s a necessity for the company and political stability.”

I had expected this. “Three years is fair,” I said.

He smiled ruefully. “Until we produce an heir, tradition requires certain visits, regular intimacy. I will request weekly sex at the very least. We will attempt conception with that frequency.”

My cheeks flushed. I almost laughed from disbelief and memories of Damian, who never once crossed my threshold when needed. This arrangement was a bargain, and a lifeline.

“All right,” I said. “I accept.”

Ray paused, then reached for a fallen rose from my hair, tucking it back near my ear. Fingers brushed warmth behind. He watched me like a man measuring consequences and rewards.

“I will make sure it is not unpleasant,” he said softly. “Do you object?”

“No,” I said. “I do not object.”

He lifted his glass and sipped. “Then we shall draft the legal language. Business and marriage, terms. You will have my investment and name publicly. That protects you.”

The weight of that promise settled in my chest. Public protection meant dismantling Damian’s quiet power. Revenge would be a byproduct of strategy.

We signed draft notes on his aide’s tablet that first night. Music rolled on. Damian returned to the terrace later, eyes narrowed, composure gone. He watched us with hunger and fury.

Selene slipped away, face white. No pity for her. She had chosen this path.

Ray touched the back of my hand. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I said. “I am sure.”

He smiled, softening something in me. The first move in a game that would take everything..but it was mine to make.