THE CEO'S CONTRACT WIFE

Chapter 3: THE LION'S DEN

The lobby of Thorne Enterprises was not just a room; it was a cathedral to capitalism. The floors were polished white marble, the ceiling soared fifty feet high, and the air hummed with the quiet, serious energy of billions of dollars changing hands.

And then there was Elena.

As she stepped through the revolving glass doors, she felt every eye in the room shift toward her. She was a dripping mess of rainwater, cheap polyester, and worn-out sneakers squeaking against the pristine floor. She looked like a drowned rat in a palace.

She instinctively shrank back, trying to hide behind Julian’s tall frame.

"Head up," Julian murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You are Mrs. Julian Thorne now. Act like you own the building."

Before she could process the command, Julian did something that made her breath hitch. He reached out and interlaced his fingers with hers.

His hand was large, warm, and firm. The contact sent a jolt of electricity up her arm, startling her. It was the first time he had touched her, and for a split second, the "fake" arrangement felt terrifyingly real.

"Walk," he commanded.

Elena forced her chin up. She matched his long strides, clinging to his hand like a lifeline as they walked toward the private elevators.

The whispers started immediately. The receptionist dropped her phone. Two security guards exchanged stunned glances. Julian Thorne, the Ice King of New York, was holding hands with a soaked, disheveled woman?

"Julian!"

A sharp, feminine voice cut through the whispers.

Elena flinched as a woman stepped into their path. She was stunning—tall, blonde, and wearing a red dress that fit her like a second skin. Her eyes, however, were narrowed in suspicion.

"Victoria," Julian said, his tone cooling by several degrees.

Elena recognized the name from the tabloids. Victoria Vance. The VP of Operations and, according to the rumors, Julian’s on-again, off-again lover.

Victoria’s gaze raked over Elena, filled with undisguised disgust. "What is this? Did you pick up a stray cat on your way in? The cleaning staff entrance is in the back."

Elena felt her face burn with humiliation. She tried to pull her hand away, but Julian’s grip tightened. He didn't let go.

"Careful, Victoria," Julian warned, his voice smooth but dangerous. "You are speaking to my fiancée."

The silence that followed was absolute. Victoria’s perfect mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"Elena and I are getting married tonight," Julian lied—or rather, told the truth—without blinking. "She is not a stray. She is the future mistress of this company. I expect you to treat her with the same respect you show me."

Victoria looked as if she had been slapped. Her eyes darted between Julian’s stone-cold face and Elena’s wet uniform. "You can't be serious. Julian, look at her. She’s... she’s a nobody."

"She is with me," Julian said, stepping around her. "And we are late. Move."

He didn't wait for a response. He pulled Elena past the stunned woman and into the private elevator. The heavy gold doors slid shut, sealing them inside.

The moment they were alone, Julian dropped her hand as if it burned him.

He took a step away, adjusting his suit jacket, the warmth gone instantly. The "husband" was gone; the CEO was back.

"That was Victoria Vance," Julian said, staring at the floor numbers ticking upward. "She will be your biggest problem. She wants my position, and she wants me. Stay away from her."

Elena rubbed her hand, still feeling the ghost of his touch. "She hates me already."

"Good," Julian said, glancing at her reflection in the metal doors. "Hatred means she believes it. If she thought you were a fake, she wouldn't be jealous. You did well."

The elevator dinged at the top floor—the Penthouse Suite.

"Now," Julian said, stepping out into a massive, luxurious office that overlooked the entire city. "We have two hours to turn you from a 'drowned rat,' as Victoria put it, into a billionaire’s wife. My styling team is on their way."

He turned to look at her, his eyes critical but not cruel.

"Go to the bathroom and shower. Burn those clothes. When you come out, Elena Rossi ceases to exist."