Chapter 6 A Deal on Equal Terms

YARA’S POV

I expected a lot of things this morning, considering the way I'd been acting towards Rames for the past two days. I just didn't expect him to come in so early.

It was crazy, but then rich people were crazy people. Rames just topped their boards.

My fingers paused over the stack of syllabus sheets I was sorting before the morning bell. I kept my eyes on the neat rows of print, but my right hand instinctively slid towards the drawer where the student harassment form sat ready. The soft sound of his sneakers against the linoleum came to a sudden halt.

I looked up, my jaw tight, fully prepared to point towards the door and threaten him with the police report I had promised.

To my complete surprise, he wasn't trying to crowd my workspace. He stood perfectly still, his hands tucked loosely into his jacket pockets, his down coat hanging open over his school uniform. He had stopped several feet away from the edge of my desk.

The territorial posture he usually carried was gone, replaced by a quiet composure that made the empty room feel strangely massive.

“I told my father's legal team to drop the case,” Rames murmured, his deep voice entirely clear and quiet. He took one hand out of his pocket, holding up a folded sheet of white lined paper.

“And I came here to tell you that I am sorry, Ms. Jenkins.”

The words hung in the morning air, completely knocking me off balance. I let go of the syllabus sheets, my palms flat on the desk as I stared at him, trying to find the catch.

“You're sorry?”

“I am,” Rames nodded, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a level of sincerity that made my pulse give a sudden skip. He didn't look away, nor did he offer his signature smirk.

“I crossed a line by trying to use my family’s influence to intimidate you because you weren't like the others. It was a cheap, predatory move, and it was entirely wrong. My influence doesn't give me the right to corner you here or anywhere else.”

I searched his face for any sign of a hidden game, but his sharp features remained perfectly open, his jaw relaxed. The maturity radiating from him was completely unexpected.

“And the paper?” I asked, pointing a pen toward the sheet in his hand, keeping my wall firmly in place despite the sudden crack in my assumptions.

Rames stepped forward just enough to place the paper on the corner of my desk, then immediately stepped back, maintaining the distance.

“It’s the insurance estimate for my passenger door. I had our maintenance shop run the numbers again early this morning.”

I picked up the paper and unfolded it quickly. My eyes scanned the printed rows, searching for the half-million-dollar figure he had used to threaten me before. My eyebrows snapped together as I reached the bottom line.

“Two thousand four hundred dollars?” I looked up, completely taken aback, my voice rising in disbelief.

“Mr. Taranis, your vehicle is a custom imported carbon-fiber sports car. A single headlight costs more than this entire estimate. What did you do to this file?”

A small, genuine smile touched Rames’s lips, though he kept his tone perfectly serious.

“I told the mechanics to strip away the luxury markups. I had them bypass the custom racing panels and substitute the basic, standard-issue steel parts from our regional supplier. It’s completely road-legal, it passes every safety inspection, and it completely matches the standard repair baseline for any normal sedan.”

I stood slowly, holding the paper between my fingers as I realized exactly what he had done. He had deliberately chosen the most affordable repair options to make the debt manageable.

“So you're taking a massive financial hit on a rare vehicle just to make a point,” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I evaluated his strategy.

“I'm making sure we stand on level ground just as you wanted,” Rames countered, his dark eyes burning with a sudden, quiet intensity that made the room feel incredibly small.

“If I left the bill at half a million, It would be a cage designed to keep you under my thumb, and you would hate me for the rest of your life Yara. I want a fair, clean deal between two adults who share accountability for an accident.”

My personal pride flared slightly, but for the first time, it wasn't mixed with anger. I respected his logic. He had used his intelligence to meet my terms exactly, turning my own argument about fairness back on me.

“Two thousand four hundred dollars,” I calculated aloud, grabbing a calculator from my drawer and tapping the keys quickly.

“Divided into a twelve-month structured installment plan. That comes out to exactly two hundred dollars a month, paid on the first of every week via direct bank transfer.”

“That works for me,” Rames responded, his voice smooth as he watched me write the numbers down on a clean sheet of ledger paper.

“Sit down,” I ordered, pointing toward the front row desk directly before me. “Let's draft the terms properly so there are no misunderstandings with your family's attorneys later.”

Rames pulled out the plastic chair and sat down, his long legs folding easily beneath the desk. He placed his hands on the tabletop, ready to negotiate.

For the next fifteen minutes, we discussed the details as intellectual equals. I laid out the clauses regarding payment deadlines, and he countered with adjustments for bank holidays.

The tension had shifted into something sophisticated and sharp. I found myself matching his surprisingly quick mind step for step, captivated by how observant and mature he could be when he stopped acting like a spoiled prince.

“Sign here,” I whispered, sliding the finished, handwritten contract across the desk toward him along with my black pen.

Rames reached out, his long fingers wrapping around the plastic casing. As he pulled the paper towards himself, his hand moved slightly too fast, and the edge of his knuckles accidentally brushed against my bare wrist, his ring scraping softly over my skin.

I immediately pulled away and Rames eyes met mine and he gave a curt nod. “Sorry” he apologised and I nodded.

Slowly, Rames signed his name in quick, elegant cursive at the bottom of the page, his eyes never breaking away from my face. He capped the pen with a soft click and leaned back into his chair as he swirl the pen in his hand.

“The debt is settled, Ms. Jenkins,” Rames murmured, his deep voice dropping to a whisper, his dark eyes locking onto my mouth before slowly coming back to meet my eyes.

“Um…yeah. Thanks for being so understanding.” I said and maybe I was reading too much into his facial expression but he blushed slightly before looking away.

“But the debt of my behavior requires a proper apology and I want to apologise the right way.” I ticked and nodded.

“I knew you had something up your sleeves with this sudden good boy act.” And his face became seriously against a he leaned in.

“I'm not planning anything Yara. I just want to apologise properly.” I raised my brows at him and he sighed.

“Let's meet at the public café outside the school premises at five.” the morning bell rang loud and my eyes moved to the door before meeting his gaze again.

“No and thank you.” He hissed and leaned into his chair, his hair falling slightly over his face.

“Do I always have to blackmail you to get what I want?” He asked.