Bound By Contract

The courthouse smelled of old paper, wood polish, and the faint mustiness that seemed embedded in public buildings of a certain age. Emily stood before the justice of the peace, her hands trembling slightly as she held the small bouquet of white roses James had unexpectedly presented her with that morning. "The rings, please," the justice prompted. James produced two simple gold bands from his pocket. Nothing flashy or ostentatious—"better for the narrative," he'd explained when showing them to her earlier. "We'll say it was a whirlwind romance, that we wanted something traditional for now and may upgrade later." Everything about this day had been meticulously planned by James, from the private ceremony with just two of his colleagues as witnesses, to the "casual" meeting they'd have later with a photographer from a society magazine who'd been tipped off about the prominent lawyer's surprise wedding.

As James slid the ring onto her finger, his hand warm against her cold one, Emily was struck by the surreal nature of the moment. The gold felt heavy, foreign. Three weeks ago, she'd been single, struggling to keep her café afloat, and now she was legally binding herself to a virtual stranger for an entire year. "I now pronounce you husband and wife," the justice said, his voice echoing slightly in the small chamber. "You may kiss the bride." This was the part they'd discussed awkwardly the night before, during their final review of the contract. "A kiss will be expected," James had said, clinical and detached. "A brief one should suffice." Now, as he leaned down, his hand lightly touching her waist, Emily caught a whiff of his now familiar cologne and the faint scent of coffee that had transferred to him from their morning meeting at the café. His lips brushed against hers—gentle, warm, and over so quickly she might have imagined it.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Thornton," the justice said, and Emily felt a jolt at hearing herself addressed by a name that wasn't hers. Outside the courthouse, the October air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of colder days ahead. James guided her to the waiting town car with a hand at the small of her back—a gesture that would look affectionate to observers but was careful not to be too intimate. "That went well," he said once they were inside the vehicle, the privacy partition raised between them and the driver. "The hard part's over." Emily laughed incredulously. "I think the hard part is just beginning." James loosened his tie slightly—a rare break in his impeccable appearance. "Fair point. Are you ready for this afternoon? The photographer, then dinner with my board members?" "As ready as I'll ever be," Emily replied, smoothing the fabric of her simple cream-colored dress— bought specially for today with the advance James had already deposited into her account.

"Run me through the story again." "We met at your café," James recited. "I was immediately taken with you but maintained a professional distance. After several weeks of being a regular customer, I finally asked you to dinner. Things progressed quickly—when you know, you know." His delivery was perfect, and practiced, though his eyes remained analytical rather than romantic. "And my profession? Will your board members approve of you marrying a café owner?" Something hardened in James's expression.

"My grandfather came from nothing. He never forgot it, even as he built his empire. The board will appreciate the narrative of me choosing someone hardworking and entrepreneurial rather than a socialite." The car slowed as they approached their first destination, a picturesque park where the "candid" photographs would be taken. "One more thing," James said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small box and opened it to reveal a stunning engagement ring featuring a sizable diamond flanked by smaller sapphires. "For appearances. The wedding band alone might raise questions." Emily stared at the ring. "That wasn't in the contract." "Consider it a business expense," he replied smoothly. "Necessary for the narrative." As he slid the ring onto her finger alongside the simpler band, their hands touched again. Emily noticed calluses on his fingertips that seemed at odds with his polished appearance—small imperfections in his otherwise perfect facade. "Ready, Mrs. Thornton?" he asked as the car door opened, letting in the sounds and smells of the park—freshly cut grass, children's laughter from a distant playground, the earthy dampness of soil after a recent rain. "Ready, Mr. Thornton," she replied, taking his outstretched hand and stepping into their new shared fiction.

The transformation of Brewed Awakening happened with breathtaking efficiency. Over the course of three weeks, the café closed for renovations and reopened with new equipment, updated décor that maintained its cozy charm while adding modern touches, and an expanded menu developed with the help of a consultant James had hired. Emily stood in the center of her café on the morning of the grand reopening, breathing in the familiar scents now enhanced by the aroma of fresh paint and new upholstery. The early November sunlight streamed through the larger windows that had replaced the old ones, illuminating the space in a warm glow. "What do you think?" James asked, coming to stand beside her. He'd been surprisingly involved in the renovation process, offering suggestions but always deferring to her final decisions. "It's perfect," she admitted, emotion tightening her throat. "It's everything my parents envisioned but could never quite afford to do." Something softened in James's expression. "They would be proud." Emily looked at him curiously. In the month since their arrangement began, he'd maintained a polite distance when they weren't performing for others. This moment of genuine connection felt like a departure from their carefully maintained boundaries.

The bell above the door jingled as Zach arrived for his shift, stopping short at the sight of James. "Morning, boss," he said to Emily, then with a nod to James, "Mr. Thornton." James checked his watch. "I should get to the office. Good luck today." He leaned down and placed a brief kiss on Emily's cheek—part of their public performance, though there was no audience here except Zach, who already knew the truth about their arrangement. "Thank you," Emily said, meaning it for more than just the good wishes. As James left, the scent of his cologne lingered behind, now a familiar part of her life along with the weight of the rings on her finger and the strange dual existence she was living. "Still weird seeing you two together," Zach commented as he tied on his apron. "He seems so... not your type." "It's not about type," Emily reminded him, moving behind the counter to begin the opening routine. "It's business." "If you say so." Zach didn't sound convinced. "But I saw how he was looking at you just now." Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the strange flutter in her chest. "Help me set up the new display case, will you? We open in thirty minutes." The grand reopening exceeded all expectations. By mid-morning, the café was bustling with regular customers exclaiming over the changes and new patrons drawn in by the press coverage of the "local success story." The new kitchen equipment handled the increased volume effortlessly, and the additional staff James had insisted on hiring proved essential.

Around noon, Emily was refilling the pastry display when the bell jingled. She looked up, a greeting on her lips that died when she saw Michael standing just inside the doorway, taking in the renovated space with an expression of disbelief. "Emily," he said, approaching the counter. "This is... different." The scent of his cologne—once so familiar and comforting—now seemed overpowering and intrusive in her space. "What do you want, Michael?" she asked, not bothering with pleasantries. "I heard you got married," he said, leaning against the counter. "To some hotshot lawyer. Pretty quick turnaround after rejecting my proposal." Emily straightened, aware of Zach hovering nearby, ready to intervene if needed. "His offer was better." Michael's expression hardened. "So it was about money after all." "No," a deep voice interjected from behind Michael. "It was about respect." James stood in the doorway, his imposing figure drawing the attention of everyone in the café. He moved forward with purposeful strides, the subtle scent of autumn air clinging to his coat from outside. "Mr. Thornton," Emily said, surprise evident in her voice. "I thought you had meetings all day." "I wanted to see how the reopening was going," he replied, eyes never leaving Michael. "And to meet your ex-fiancé properly. James Thornton." He extended his hand, the gesture both polite and challenging. Michael hesitated before accepting the handshake, visibly wincing at James's grip. "Michael Davis." "Mr. Davis," James said, his tone conversational yet undercut with steel. "I understand you once proposed a business arrangement to my wife. I'm glad she declined. She deserves better than a transaction." The irony of his statement wasn't lost on Emily, though James delivered it with such conviction that for a moment, she almost believed it herself. Michael looked between them, clearly trying to reconcile the unexpected development with his own narrative. "Well, congratulations," he said finally, the words hollow. "Looks like everything worked out for everyone." "It did," James agreed, sliding an arm around Emily's waist in a gesture that, for the first time, didn't feel entirely performative. "My wife is an exceptional businesswoman. You should have recognized that when you had the chance." The emphasis on "my wife" sent an unexpected shiver down Emily's spine. Michael's jaw tightened. Without another word, he turned and left, the bell jingling with finality behind him.

For a moment, neither Emily nor James moved his arm still around her waist, the warmth of it seeping through her thin blouse. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Though that wasn't necessary." "It was my pleasure," James replied, and the sincerity in his voice surprised her. He seemed to realize he was still holding her and stepped back, clearing his throat. "How's business today?" Emily welcomed the return to safer territory. "Incredible. We're already up two hundred percent from our best day before." "Excellent." James's professional demeanor slipped back into place. "I have to get back to the office, but I thought you should know—the board was impressed when they met you. Old Harrison even told me I'd 'done well for myself.'" "Happy to have been of service," Emily said, attempting to match his detached tone despite the lingering warmth where his arm had been. James nodded, then after a brief hesitation, added, "We should discuss the holiday party at my firm next week. It's an important event—the first major one since we've been married." "I'll be ready," Emily assured him. "Send me the details." As James left, Zach appeared at her side, eyebrows raised. "Still just business?" Emily busied herself rearranging already perfectly arranged pastries. "Yes. Exactly as outlined in the contract." But as she caught the lingering scent of James's cologne mixed with the cool outdoor air, she wondered if the boundaries of their arrangement were beginning to blur in ways neither of them had anticipated.