Chapter 10 Terms and Conditions
Tasha’s POV
“If we’re doing this, we do it right,” I said once I recovered from what Carlos said. And before I could remember that agreeing to this in the first place had already been a mistake.
Carlos didn’t react immediately.
He was standing across from me in the same observation room, the late afternoon light cutting through the glass behind him, outlining the sharp edges of his posture in a way that made everything feel… more defined.
More real. More dangerous.
His gaze stayed on me, steady and unreadable, like he was waiting to see if I’d take it back.
I didn’t. I lifted my chin slightly instead.
“If this is supposed to work,” I continued, crossing my arms to ground myself, “then we don’t half-do it. No hesitation. No confusion. No mixed signals.”
A beat passed.
Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted. Not a full smile, but something smaller and more controlled.
“Mixed signals,” he repeated quietly. “That sounds familiar.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer once again. “You’re the one setting rules.”
“Yes,” I replied. “And you’re going to follow them.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Am I?”
“If you want this to work, you are.”
Silence settled between us again, but it didn’t feel empty. It felt charged. Like something was building just under the surface, waiting for the wrong move to break it open.
“Fine,” he said finally.
The word was simple. But the way he said it wasn’t. It sounded like agreement. But it also sounded like a challenge.
“Then we do it right.”
I exhaled slowly, nodding once. “Good.”
I turned slightly, pacing a step away before turning back to him, organizing my thoughts out loud.
“We establish boundaries first,” I said. “Clear ones.”
“Go ahead.”
“Public only,” I started. “Anything we do, it’s for show. No private behavior that crosses the line.”
He didn’t interrupt or argue. He just watched me.
“Second,” I continued, “we keep it consistent. No sudden changes that make it look fake.”
“That’s obvious.”
“I’m saying it anyway.”
His lips pressed together slightly, like he was holding back a comment.
“Third,” I added, “you don’t use this as an excuse to… push things.”
His expression shifted slightly. “Define push things.”
I held his gaze. “You know exactly what I mean.”
A pause.
“Fine,” he said again.
Too easily. That should’ve made me nervous.
“Good,” I said, even though something in my chest felt tighter than before. “Then we’re clear.”
“We are,” he agreed.
Another silence. Longer this time. Because now that the rules were set, there was only one thing left.
Testing them.
“You realize,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “we have to make it believable.”
“I know.”
“That means we don’t hesitate.”
“I said I know.”
“Then prove it.”
My breath caught slightly. Not visibly, but enough that I felt it. He took a step closer. Like he was giving me time to back out.
But I didn’t. Because I couldn’t. Because I had agreed. And because if I hesitated now, this whole thing would fall apart before it even started.
“Start simple,” he said.
My heart was already beating faster than it should have been. “For example?”
His gaze dropped briefly. Then came back to mine.
“Hand.”
I froze for half a second. Just half. Then I forced myself to move. I stepped forward, closing the space between us. Like every movement mattered. My hand hovered between us for a second longer than it should have.
I took his. It should have been simple. Just contact and part of the act. But the second our fingers touched, something shifted.
His hand was warm. Firm and steady in a way that didn’t feel rehearsed or uncertain. And when his fingers closed around mine, it wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t unsure. It was immediate. Like it belonged there.
I swallowed. “This is fine,” I said, more to myself than to him.
“It is,” he replied.
But his voice had changed slightly. It became lower, quiter, and more aware.
“Relax your grip,” he added. “You’re holding on like you’re expecting to pull away.”
I frowned. “I’m not—”
“You are,” he said.
I looked down at our hands. He wasn’t wrong because my fingers were tense and ready as if prepared to pull away when this ended.
“Loosen it,” he murmured.
I exhaled slowly and forced my hand to relax. His thumb shifted slightly against mine. Not enough to draw attention. But enough for me to feel it.
“Better,” he said.
I looked up at him. “That felt unnecessary.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because people notice small things,” he replied. “Details.”
“And you’re an expert on that?”
“Yes.”
Of course he was.
I huffed out a small breath. “Fine.”
He didn’t let go. Neither did I.
“Next,” he said.
“What next?”
“Eye contact.”
I stared at him. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Is it?” he asked.
I hesitated. Because no, it wasn’t. Not really. If we were going to do this, we had to sell it. Completely. And that meant things like this. Things that shouldn’t matter. But did.
“Look at me,” he said.
I already was. But I didn’t say that and just held his gaze. At first, it felt like a challenge. Like every other time we’d looked at each other across a room, across a console, across an argument.
But this time…
It was different. There was no argument. No tension pulling us in opposite directions. And the longer it lasted, the harder it became to ignore the way it felt.
“That’s not bad,” he said softly.
I blinked. “Not bad?”
“You’re trying too hard to stay neutral.”
“I am neutral.”
“No,” he said. “You’re guarded.”
I frowned. “And that’s a problem?”
“For this? Yes.”
I pulled my hand slightly, but he didn’t let go.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” I asked.
“Stop thinking about it like it’s fake.”
My breath caught. “That’s the whole point.”
“Not if you want it to look real.”
Silence and heavy. Because he wasn’t wrong. And I hated that.
“Try again,” he said.
I exhaled slowly and forced myself to stop overthinking. To just… Be. His warm and steady hand was still holding mine. His gaze still locked on mine. And this time, when I looked at him, I didn’t try to control it as much.
And something changed. Subtle. But real.
“There,” he said quietly.
“That’s it.”
I didn’t respond. Because my chest felt tight. Because this suddenly felt a little too easy. A little too natural. And that was the problem.
“Good,” he said, finally releasing my hand.
The absence of it was immediate and noticeable. I flexed my fingers slightly, trying to shake off the lingering feeling.
“Now we test it,” he added.
My brows furrowed. “How?”
A small teasing smile curved on his lips. “In public.”