CHAPTER 8

The silence that followed Thiago’s declaration was suffocating. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder of the precipice I was teetering on. There was no denying the danger of the situation, the darkness lurking beneath Thiago’s words. Yet, there was something in his gaze, something almost magnetic, that pulled me in despite the voice in my head screaming at me to walk away.

“Alright,” I finally said, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil roiling inside me. “Let’s discuss the terms. But make no misleading here, Thiago, this contract will be a partnership, not a dictatorship.”

A flicker of something—respect, perhaps—passed through his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, regarding me with a mix of amusement and curiosity, as if he was trying to figure out just how far he could push me.

“Very well, damsel,” he drawled, his voice dripping with a lazy charm that belied the seriousness of the moment. “But you’ll find that partnerships can be just as binding as any other