MTLNOVEL Chapter 6: Contract Proposal
The city outside Damien Quinn's penthouse was shrouded in moonlight, its skyline gleaming like polished steel. His study was silent save for the hum of the screen before him, displaying a single encrypted line of code—the one he had crafted with care.
To the one who wears shadows like silk—meet me in the dark.
A message, not a challenge.
He sent it, encrypted and tucked away into the quiet corner of the archive where their last exchange had occurred. Then he shut down the system, leaned back in his chair, and allowed himself the rare indulgence of anticipation.
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Thursday.
Olivia Carter sat cross-legged in the Laurier penthouse's sunroom, bathed in soft golden light that belied the storm brewing in her head. It was two days until the Whitmore engagement gala—Saturday night, where she'd be forced to parade as the perfect bride-to-be.
She sipped from a cooling cup of espresso, her eyes scanning encrypted mail, data markets, and dark web contracts. Another job request blinked into view. She filed it away.
She had more pressing matters tonight.
Her fingers hovered over her tablet as she opened the encrypted channel where the new message from the shadow of Quinn Corp. had appeared.
To the one who wears shadows like silk—meet me in the dark.
She arched a brow.
Poetic. Predictable. But precise.
He wanted a meeting.
And she was ready.
She chose the location with intention: a converted showroom on Leighton Square, top floor, glass walls, industrial steel beams, six exit routes, and no surveillance. It was somewhere she knew. Somewhere she controlled.
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She arrived an hour early, set the uplinks, scrambled the frequencies, and changed into something sharp—black slacks, a cream silk blouse, and a dark trench coat. Minimalist. Neutral. Not Rose. Not Olivia.
Just the ghost in the wires.
At exactly midnight, the private elevator gave a soft chime.
Damien Quinn stepped out.
For a second, he stilled.
His eyes met hers.
His brows twitched—sharply.
"You?"
His voice was low, almost disbelieving.
Olivia said nothing, letting him absorb it.
He took a step forward; arms still relaxed at his sides.
"Rose Laurier. The same Rose Laurier who made headlines for hurling vintage handbags at paparazzi?"
Olivia tilted her head. "I like to think I've evolved since then."
He studied her. "This isn't possible."
"I agree," she said, voice cool. "But here we are."
His eyes narrowed, the CEO in him reasserting control. "Explain."
She walked across the loft slowly, her boots echoing on the polished floor. "I've assessed every man in our social circle—investors, heirs, barons, and shadows. They all orbit fame, chaos, and control. You don't. You're calculated. Emotionless. Unmoved by vanity or flirtation."
She turned to face him fully.
"I need someone who wants nothing romantic. No drama. No attachment. Just structure."
His jaw shifted slightly. "Go on."
"I'm offering you an arrangement. In return for your silence, your discretion, and your legal shield—I'll give you my skills. Full access. Clean digital hits, erasures, surveillance, traps, ghost tracking. No paper trail, no names. But one condition."
He raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"
"A contractual marriage," she said simply.
Damien blinked. His expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened.
"You're serious."
"As cancer," she replied.
He exhaled slowly, stepping deeper into the room. "Why a marriage?"
She moved to her laptop and tapped the screen. "Because Rose Laurier is being maneuvered into a public engagement this Saturday. The Whitmore gala will make it official, and I'm expected to play the dutiful fiancée."
Damien nodded. "And you want out."
"I want control."
She turned back to him.
"I vanish from that narrative if I belong to someone more powerful. Someone the Whitmore's wouldn't dare challenge. Someone no one dares question."
Damien folded his arms.
"And I'm that shield."
"You're the only one immune to public pressure and romantic bait," she said. "You won't fall for me. You won't control me. But you'll benefit. Because when your boardroom enemies try to dig dirt on you, they'll find me. And I'll be your digital fortress."
He stared at her for a long moment.
Then said quietly, "You hacked my system."
"I could've burned it," she said. "I didn't."
He cracked the faintest smile. "You're bold."
"I'm efficient."
He stepped close enough to see the steel in her eyes. "And what if I say no?"
"Then I go to the Whitmore gala, get engaged, disappear from the tech world, and your next breach won't be me—it'll be someone slower. Sloppier. Traceable."
Damien tilted his head. "You're gambling with your life."
"Control and freedom demand bold decisions and proper planning."
A silence stretched.
Then Damien extended his hand.
"No romantic gestures," he said.
"No emotional complications," she replied.
"Just strategy."
"Just shields."
Their hands met in a firm shake.
The contract was verbal—for now.
But the war had just begun.
"Meet me at the Civil Affairs Bureau. Nine sharp," Damien added.