CHAPTER 5: A CONTRACT PROPOSAL
1449words
"This is... my room?" I murmured, struggling to recall the previous night's events.
The bar, cocktails, Zoe, strange men in that room... and Nathan Blake's appearance. It all seemed like a chaotic dream, but my clothes and headache confirmed its reality.
I sat up with effort, noticing water and painkillers on my nightstand that I didn't remember preparing.
In the living room, I discovered a tray on the coffee table with a simple breakfast—toast, jam, and orange juice—alongside a folded note.
It read:
"Miss Sinclair,
Hope your head isn't too painful when you wake. Water and medicine by the bed, breakfast on the table (sorry, my culinary skills are limited).
Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—nothing happened last night.
If you'd like to thank your knight, or just talk, my number: 07700 900461
Tonight at 7, The Ivy Cambridge Brasserie. I've reserved a table.
Looking forward to seeing you (even if just to scold me for checking your student ID).
Your knight, Nathan B.
P.S. You smile in your sleep. It's adorable."
I couldn't help laughing. I recalled Nathan's concerned gaze last night, the memory warming my heart.
As I enjoyed breakfast on the sofa, my thoughts drifted to my previous life.
It was shortly after my return to the Sinclair family, at a charity gala. I'd worn a simple white dress, trying desperately to fit into that unfamiliar high society. Several socialites, clearly displeased by my presence, orchestrated an "accident" where one "accidentally" spilled red wine all over my dress.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she apologized insincerely, malice gleaming in her eyes. "Perhaps the new Sinclair daughter needs lessons in proper etiquette for such occasions."
Surrounding laughter erupted as I stood there, wine dripping from my dress, my face burning with humiliation. Just as I froze in distress, a tall figure approached, removing his suit jacket and placing it around my shoulders.
"It's stifling in here. I think you need some fresh air," he said calmly, his voice deep and gentle.
It was Nathan Blake, the renowned heir to Blake Industries. Ignoring surprised stares, he signaled for a butler to escort me to a changing room.
"Mr. Blake's private suite is ready. Please follow me," the butler said respectfully.
In the changing room, I found a brand new outfit—an elegant, simple blue dress the color of cornflowers, perfectly my size.
When I returned to the gala, Nathan was conversing with business associates. He acknowledged me with a slight nod, as if nothing had happened. In that moment, I felt immense gratitude toward this man.
Back in the present, I looked at the note in my hand, warmth spreading through me. In both lives, Nathan Blake seemed to appear precisely when I needed help most.
I saved his number in my phone.
At seven sharp, I stood before The Ivy Cambridge Brasserie, one of Cambridge's finest restaurants that typically required weeks of advance booking. I wore a simple pink dress—neither too formal nor too casual.
"Miss Sinclair, Mr. Blake is waiting for you," the waiter said respectfully, guiding me through the restaurant.
Nathan sat at a corner table, rising immediately upon seeing me. He wore a dark gray suit without a tie, exuding casual elegance.
"You came," he smiled, his eyes sparkling with pleasure.
"Thank you for your help last night," I said sincerely. "If it weren't for you..."
"Let's not dwell on unpleasant things," he gestured for me to sit. "I'm glad I arrived in time."
The waiter poured champagne, and Nathan raised his glass: "To fortunate encounters."
I clinked glasses with him: "To timely rescues."
Dinner proceeded delightfully. Nathan was witty and articulate, yet lacked the arrogance typical of high society. We discussed literature, art, travel, even my research projects. His professional-level understanding of biotechnology surprised me.
"You're quite knowledgeable about biotechnology," I remarked curiously.
"Just a hobby," he smiled. "Blake Industries has investments in biotech, so I need to understand the field."
After dessert arrived, Nathan's expression turned serious.
"Emma, I have a proposition for you."
I set down my fork: "What kind of proposition?"
"I want to suggest a... partnership," he chose his words carefully. "An arrangement beneficial to us both."
I raised an eyebrow: "What sort of partnership?"
"Marriage," he looked directly into my eyes. "A marriage of convenience."
I froze, completely blindsided: "Are you joking?"
"I'm entirely serious," Nathan's voice was low and firm. "I need a wife to solidify my position within the Blake family. My father favors my half-brother and wants him to take over the company. I need to prove I'm the better choice."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"The true Sinclair heiress, Cambridge's brilliant researcher, Hamilton Pharmaceuticals' honored guest... your identity and talents are exactly what I need," he explained. "Marrying you would not only bring Sinclair connections to Blake Industries but would demonstrate my judgment and vision."
I laughed coldly: "So I'm just a tool for your power play?"
"No, this is a mutually beneficial arrangement," Nathan leaned forward. "In return, you gain complete freedom. I won't interfere with your studies or career, and I'll fund your research. Blake Industries can build you a state-of-the-art laboratory, allowing you to focus on work you truly love."
"Additionally," he added, "this marriage would free you from Sinclair constraints. As a Blake bride, no one would dare trouble you."
I fell silent. The offer was tempting—freedom, resources, protection—everything I needed. But marriage, even one of convenience, wasn't trivial.
"We can draft an agreement," Nathan continued, "clearly defining our rights and obligations. After two years, if you wish to end the relationship, we can part amicably. No entanglements, no harm done."
"Why me?" I met his gaze directly. "With so many eligible socialites, why choose an 'outsider' who just returned to high society?"
Nathan's expression deepened: "Because you're different. You disregard hypocritical social etiquette, you don't chase fame or status. You have your own pursuits and principles—qualities I admire."
He paused: "Besides, my first impression of you was excellent. Last night confirmed my instincts were correct."
I contemplated silently. This proposal indeed solved many of my current problems. Plus, I owed Nathan a debt—perhaps this was how I could repay him.
"I need time to consider," I finally said.
"Of course," Nathan nodded understandingly. "It's a significant decision."
He removed a small box from his pocket and slid it toward me: "This is for you."
I opened it to find an elegant necklace with a tiny microscope-shaped pendant.
"This is...?"
"I saw it by chance and thought it might suit you. Regardless of your decision, it's yours."
Perhaps it was his gentle tone, but inexplicably, I accepted the small gift.
As we left the restaurant, Nathan courteously opened the car door: "I'll drive you home."
During the drive, we avoided mentioning the proposal, discussing lighter topics instead. Arriving at my apartment building, Nathan parked and turned to me.
"Thank you for dinner," I said.
"Thank you for your company," he replied, his eyes reflecting a gentle smile.
After a moment's hesitation, I made my decision: "I accept your proposal."
Nathan visibly startled, apparently not expecting such a quick decision: "Are you certain?"
"Yes," I nodded. "But I have conditions."
"Please, go ahead."
"First, I require complete independence and freedom—you have no right to interfere with my life or academic plans. Second, though our marriage is contractual, we must present it as genuine to others, with no third parties involved—I refuse to become gossip fodder. Third, our separation after two years must be peaceful, with no actions taken to harm one another."
Nathan listened attentively, then nodded: "All acceptable. I have one condition as well—in this relationship, we must maintain mutual respect and honesty. Whether a marriage of convenience or genuine, trust forms the foundation."
"Deal," I extended my hand.
Nathan clasped it: "Deal, future Mrs. Blake."
"Shall we discuss specifics later?" I asked.
"Certainly," he nodded. "I'll have lawyers prepare the agreement. Regarding the wedding, do you have preferences?"
"Something simple, not too ostentatious," I said.
"As you wish," Nathan agreed. "However, we'll need to inform your family."
Imagining the Sinclairs' reactions made me nervous: "I'll handle it."
"We can face them together," he said gently. "After all, this is our joint decision."
Back in my apartment, I sat by the window, examining the necklace. I'd made a momentous decision, one that could alter my entire life.
Strangely, I felt neither fear nor hesitation. Instead, I experienced unprecedented calm and certainty. Perhaps this was destiny's design—offering a new direction in my reborn life.
