CHAPTER 003

Ciel paces barefoot from one end of his penthouse living room to the other, the contract in one hand while the other proceeds to run through his white hair for the nth every time he reads another ridiculous thing written in the print.

Lucas watches him from the couch, sipping on a mug with his leg crossed over the other. “Please, sit down and read it properly. “

“I'm reading it, alright!” Ciel snaps, his voice strained with disbelief and aggravation. “I'm only trying to wrap my head around the fact that this guy thinks he can control my entire existence. This damn contract feels like the script itself and has more plot twists!”

Lucas sips his drink. “It's structure.”

“Structure?” Ciel casts him a glare. “Rule number one: I'm not allowed to leave the country without permission. Rule number two: I must provide regular updates of my whereabouts to his assistant. Rule number three: no intimate relationship outside of our little charade. What is this, a cult?”

Luca shrugs. “He's only trying to protect his investment, knowing your awful habits.”

Ciel barks out a bitter laugh. “Investment? I'm not a stock portfolio; I'm a goddamn person and this thing reads like a prison sentence!” He flips through the pages and cracks up. “Oh, this one is rich; wardrobe will be provided and must be adhered to at all times during public engagement. What does he think I'm gonna do? Show up to a gala wearing ripped jeans and a jacket.”

With each second that passes by, he can feel frustration bubbling up, growing thicker. Who the fuck does this man think he is?

“To be fair, you probably would.” Lucas mutters.

Ciel shoots him a glare and continues. “And this right here, is the kicker. All social media activity must be monitored and approved. What am I? Twelve?’

“It's just a year.” Luca articulates. Ciel feels he's going to explode soon. “You can take this as a new challenge. This is your best shot at making things right again.”

“So, I just give up my freedom. Let him pull the strings while I smile like a good puppet. What's gonna happen if I screw up?”

“Let's pray you don't.”

Ciel throws his hands up in frustration. “This is insane!” He turns and slumps down on a sofa, hoping he will just wake up and all this is just one terrible nightmare. “How are you even okay with this leash, Luca?”

“I didn't say I'm okay with it but let's be honest, Ciel. This leash might be the only thing keeping you from running straight off a cliff.”

Ciel rolls his eyes. “Really inspiring, Lucas.”

“You are a wildcat. Mr. Laurent might think he's got you figured out but show him you are not an easy pawn but don't do anything that will destroy your career further. I'm warning you, Ciel. You have to fix the damage you caused.”

Ciel groans, wishing he can rip up the contract and go back to when he didn't give a shit but Luca won't let him live a day.

~

Lucas wakes up feeling like he's been hit by a truck. He can feel ringing sounds in his ears as he makes his way from bed, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. At least, he doesn't wake up in some shitty cell this time.

He drags his feet out of his bedroom but like a deer caught in the spotlight, he abruptly comes to a pause, eyes widening as he sees who's occupying his sofa, looking majestic in his black suit, and a large coat over his shoulders, and leg crossed over the other, looking like he owned the space while his assistant stands behind him, with gaze that can kill if he tries harder.

“Y-you-” Ciel shutters. “How did you get in here? Who let you in here?”

Xerxes roams his eyes over his naked upper body and looks away, unimpressed. “I own the building.”

Like a fish pulled out of water, Ciel's mouth opens and closes. “Y-you o-wn the building? T-that doesn't mean you can come in here uninvited!” he brushes his white hair off his face.

“My apologies, I'm quite in a hurry.” Xerxes continues with a nonchalance that irks Ciel.

His assistant steps forward, holding out a bag that Ciel hesitantly takes and peeks inside. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“Get dressed, we are attending a charity event.”

Again, Ciel's gaping. “You came into my house and think you can tell me what to do? I'm not even gay!”

A glint flashes in Xerxes's icy eyes. “I’ve seen the reports, Mr. Reid,” Xerxes says, his voice smooth but laced with steel. “The tabloids, the photos. You’ve been with men, women, and everything in between. So don’t stand there and try to convince me of some puritanical nonsense. It doesn’t suit you. And I’m not impressed by your attitude,”

Ciel stiffens. “I’m just saying, if this whole thing is supposed to feel natural, maybe you should pick someone who’s actually into you. I haven't even signed the contract yet, so I'm not obligated to do your shit!”

Xerxes' lips curve into a faint, humorless smile and he rises to his feet, his height tall and mighty and his frame large and hovering as he approaches Ciel who takes a step back.

“I didn’t choose you for your preferences, Mr. Reid. I chose you because you’re useful. Whether or not you find me attractive is irrelevant to the arrangement.”

“Useful? That’s all I am to you?” Ciel glowers as he looks up at the man, he always believes he's tall but this one makes him look small.

“Exactly,” Xerxes continues, his tone unwavering. “This isn’t about attraction or romance. It’s about control—my control over the narrative, and your opportunity to save what’s left of your career. If you can’t see that, then you’re more foolish than I thought."He leans closer and closer till Ciel almost loses his balance from leaning back but Xerxes arm reaches out to circle on his slender waist and pulls him back.

Ciel breath hitches as he takes a sniff of the man's cologne; sandalwood yet earthly and strong. This close, he can see the dark shade of Xerxes's gray eyes and his sharp jawline.

“I don’t need to like you, Mr. Reid,” Xerxes proceeds. “And you don’t need to like me. What you do need is to follow the terms of the contract and play your role convincingly. Your personal feelings are irrelevant. Do you understand?”

Like a lizard, Ciel nods, suddenly seeming to have lost his voice.

“Good.” Xerxes lets go of his waist and steps back. “Now, be a good boy and get dressed.”