# Seven Games, One Contract

Author: Mara Vance
Site: ReadNovelHub
Canonical: https://readnovelhub.com/novel/seven-games-one-contract
Genre: Vampire-Blood-Bond

## World
You signed his contract; now every exit belongs to the man who can ruin you.

## Tropes
- Forced Proximity
- Dark Romance
- LitRPG System
- Cyberpunk Sci-Fi
- Vampire & Blood Bond
- System & LitRPG
- Cyberpunk & Sci-Fi
- Mafia & Dark Romance
- Vampire-Blood-Bond
- System-LitRPG-LevelUp
- Cyberpunk-SciFi
- Mafia-Dark-Romance

## FAQ
### What is Seven Games, One Contract about?
You signed his contract; now every exit belongs to the man who can ruin you.

### Who is the author of Seven Games, One Contract?
Seven Games, One Contract is written by Mara Vance. Read Chapter 1 free on ReadNovelHub.

### Is Seven Games, One Contract a Forced Proximity story?
Yes. Seven Games, One Contract is tagged for Forced Proximity, Dark Romance, LitRPG System readers looking for North American romance-fantasy tropes.

### Can I read Seven Games, One Contract Chapter 1 for free?
Yes. Chapter 1-4 Free. Chapter 5+ starts with a 3-day free trial, then $9.90/week. Start Seven Games, One Contract on ReadNovelHub.

### What happens at the start of Seven Games, One Contract?
"Sign the appendix, June, or I let the collectors take the ice out from under four hundred pensioners tonight." Torin Black's hand closes over my wrist before I can pull the pen back. Not hard. Just final.

## Chapter 1 teaser
### The Residency Clause

"Sign the appendix, June, or I let the collectors take the ice out from under four hundred pensioners tonight." Torin Black's hand closes over my wrist before I can pull the pen back. Not hard. Just final. Like a door shutting somewhere behind my ribs. "Get off me." I yank. He doesn't move an inch, and neither does my arm. We're locked in the penalty box. Actual penalty box, plexiglass walls, cold bench, the smell of rink ice bleeding through the vents. His lawyer's idea of a conference room, apparently — private, soundproof, and the only door in this whole barn that latches from outside. "You wanted somewhere off the record," he says. "This is off the record." "This is a box, Torin. You put me in a box." "You put yourself in it the second you filed the acceleration notice." His voice doesn't rise. It never rises. That's the part that scares me more than shouting would. "You want the whole pension fund vaporized this quarter? Pull the trigger. Go ahead." I hate that he's right that I could. Bondholders gave me the one thing that matters in this entire miserable restructuring — the acceleration trigger. One signature from me and the whole debt comes due tomorrow morning, and his arena, his team, his family's hundred-year-old barn, all of it gets sold for parts by Thursday. He knows I won't pull it. Four hundred families' retirements ride on this building staying open. That's the only reason I haven't already. And he's using it like a leash. "Read line six," he says, and slides the appendix another inch toward me on the bench between us. Cheap paper, cheaper pen, and there — line six, bolded like he wanted me to see it first. RESIDENT SPOUSE, MRS. J. BLACK, TO OCCUPY OWNER'S BOX FOR SEVEN (7) HOME GAMES PER COVENANT 14(c). My stomach drops somewhere past the floor of the 

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