Alpha CEO's 90 Day Contract

Chapter 2: The First Night

The penthouse was silent. Too silent.

Anaya's fingers were numb. The contract in her hand felt like fire.

90 days. One marriage. One lie.

The living room was bigger than her entire chawl. Floor to ceiling windows showed all of Mumbai sleeping below. Crystal chandelier. White sofas. Everything was white and cold. Like him.

No photos. No warmth. Just money.

Her red saree looked out of place here. Like blood on snow.

Footsteps. Heavy. Measured. Coming closer.

Raghav Mehra walked in.

Black suit. No tie. Top 2 buttons open.

He was tall. Too tall. His shadow fell over her completely.

Eyes like ice. Cold. Calculating. He looked at her like she was a problem he had to solve. Or delete.

The air became heavy. Anaya couldn't breathe.

"You're staring, Mrs. Mehra." His voice was low. Dangerous. It gave her goosebumps.

Anaya quickly looked down. "S-sorry, Mr. Mehra."

"Mr. Mehra?" He laughed. No humor. "We're married. For 90 days. Call me Raghav."

He stopped two feet away from her. She could smell his cologne. Expensive. And something wild underneath.

"Rule number one," he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

"No one knows about this marriage. Not your brother. Not my board. Not the media."

Anaya nodded. Her throat was dry.

"Rule number two." He stepped closer. One foot now.

"You will live here. In this house. You will attend events with me. You will play the perfect wife."

"And rule number three..." His finger lifted her chin. Forced her to look in his eyes.

His eyes flashed gold for one second. Then back to ice.

"You do not fall in love with me. Because I don't do love. I do contracts."

Anaya's heart hammered. "Why me?" she whispered. "You could have any woman."

Raghav's jaw ticked. For a second, something human flashed in his eyes. Pain? Anger?

Then it was gone.

"Because my grandfather's will says I need a wife in 30 days to inherit the company. And you... you were desperate enough to sign."

He dropped his hand. Turned away.

"Kabir will show you to the guest room. Dinner is at 9 PM. Sharp. Don't be late."

He walked towards the bar and poured himself whiskey. Didn't even look at her.

Anaya stood there, alone in the massive house. The house was too big. Too quiet.

Anaya hugged herself. The contract papers in her hand felt like they were burning.

90 days. One marriage. One lie.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Raghav Mehra appeared.

He had changed. Black t-shirt now. Sleeves rolled up. A glass of whiskey in his hand.

Without the suit, he looked even more dangerous. More real.

His eyes found hers. Cold. Assessing.

"Still here?" He took a sip. "I thought you'd run."

Anaya lifted her chin. "Where would I go? You own me for 90 days. Remember?"

Something flickered in Raghav's eyes. Surprise? Respect?

"Feisty." He walked to the window. Back to her. "I like that. For now."

The city lights reflected on the glass. On his back.

"Why are you doing this?" Anaya asked softly. "There are a hundred women who would kill to be Mrs. Mehra."

Raghav turned. His jaw was tight.

"My grandfather. His will." He said the words like they tasted bad.

"I need a wife. In 30 days. Or I lose everything I built."

"So I'm just... a signature to you?"

"Yes." His answer was immediate. Cruel. "You're a contract. Nothing more."

The word hit her like a slap.

Anaya nodded. Bit her lip to stop it from trembling.

"Then consider the contract signed, Mr. Mehra."

"Raghav."

"What?"

"Call me Raghav. When we're alone." He finished his whiskey.

"Kabir will take you to your room. East wing. Don't go to the west wing. Ever."

"Why?"

"Because I said so." His eyes flashed. Just for a second. Gold.

Then he walked away. Down the hall. Leaving her alone again.

Anaya exhaled. She didn't even realize she had been holding her breath.

She had sold herself to save her brother.

But why did her heart race when he said the word 'mine'?

The contract papers still in her hand.

She had sold herself to save her brother.

But why did her heart race when he said the word 'mine'?

Anaya stood in the middle of the massive living room, hugging herself. The contract papers were still burning in her hand. 90 days. One marriage. One lie.

“Sign it, and your brother gets the surgery tomorrow,” Mr. Raghav Mehra had said. His voice was cold. Dangerous.

She had no choice.

Footsteps. Heavy. Measured.

Raghav walked in. Black suit. No tie. Eyes like ice. He looked at her like she was a problem he had to solve.

“Rule number one,” he said, stopping two feet away from her. “No one knows about this marriage.”

Anaya nodded, her throat dry.

“Rule number two,” he continued. “You sleep in the guest room. We are not a real couple.”

Something in her chest twisted. Relief? Or disappointment?

He turned to leave, then stopped.

“And Anaya?”

“Yes?”

“For the next 90 days… you belong to me.”She closed her eyes. 90 days.

And somewhere down the hall, Raghav stared at his own door, wondering why he couldn't stop thinking about her.

The door closed with a soft click.

Anaya slid down to the floor. Her legs couldn't hold her anymore.

90 days.

The penthouse was massive. Too big. Too quiet.

White marble, crystal lights, and nothing that felt like home.

The contract papers were still in her shaking hand.

She walked. Bare feet on cold floor.

Kabir was waiting outside. Old butler. Face like stone.

"East wing, Mrs. Mehra." He said. No warmth.

"This way."

The guest room was bigger than her entire house.

King bed. White sheets. Wardrobe full of clothes with tags still on.

A red rose on the pillow.

And a note.

Anaya picked it up. Raghav's sharp handwriting.

"Rule 1: Don't follow me.

Rule 2: Don't ask about the west wing.

Rule 3: Don't forget this is just business.

- R"

Her chest tightened. Business.

Her phone vibrated. Unknown number.

Message: "Welcome to hell, Mrs. Mehra. He's dangerous. Run while you can. -A"

Anaya's blood froze. Who was A?

She threw the phone on the bed and ran to the window.

30 floors below, Mumbai was alive. And she was trapped.

In the west wing, behind a locked door,

Raghav poured whiskey. His eyes flashed gold in the dark.

"She's mine for 90 days." His wolf growled low.

"And I don't share what's mine."

TO BE CONTINUED...