The café was quiet, tucked away from the city's noise. It was early—too early for Elina to be negotiating anything with the man who ruined her—but there she was, staring at Damon Sinclair across a corner booth, trying not to throw her coffee in his face.
"This is strictly business," she said, voice low and sharp. "We fake this long enough to control the narrative, then walk away. Clean break."
Damon nodded slowly, but his eyes were already reading deeper into her words. "You always start negotiations like you're planning a war?"
She didn't flinch. "Only when I'm dealing with the enemy."
A smirk tugged at his lips. "Glad to see you haven't lost your fire."
Elina set her cup down with a soft clink. "Let's go over the terms. No real intimacy. No touching unless cameras are around. And whatever this is—we end it in four weeks. I have a major fundraiser coming up. After that, we part ways."
"And in return?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"You get to control the PR chaos and preserve your pristine image." She leaned in. "Don't act like you're doing this for me."
For a beat, Damon said nothing. Then: "You're right. I'm not."
She hated how much his honesty disarmed her. He wasn't pretending to be the boy she once knew. This version of Damon was colder, calculated, and yet... pieces of that summer boy flickered through his eyes when he let his guard down.
"I'll have a contract drawn up," he said. "For the lawyers, just in case."
"I don't want your lawyer," Elina replied. "I want control."
Something shifted in his gaze—admiration or regret, she couldn't tell.
---
Flashback – Seven Years Ago
They had danced barefoot in the rain outside his beach house. He'd twirled her under a gray sky, both of them soaked and laughing like fools. That was the night he whispered, "You feel like forever."
She had believed him.
But forever lasted until the next morning. Until he disappeared.
---
Now
Their silence stretched, heavy with memory.
"I'll send you a schedule of our appearances," Damon said, pulling out his phone. "Charity event next week. A gala the week after. And..." He hesitated. "My mother's benefit dinner. It'll be high profile."
Elina raised a brow. "Your mother?"
"She already thinks we're back together," he muttered. "Thanks to the media."
"Perfect." She stood. "Then let's give her a show."
As she grabbed her coat and headed for the door, Damon called after her.
"Elina—"
She paused.
His voice softened. "I'm not the same man you knew."
She looked back, fire flickering in her eyes. "No. You're worse. Back then, I didn't know what you were capable of."
And then she walked out—heels clicking like a war drum—leaving Damon alone with his silence and a memory he couldn't erase.