The Billionaire's Cure

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Ayla's POV

I cannot sleep, even as I lie in the massive bed with silk sheets.

The penthouse is too quiet, too big.

He touched me.

Derrick Ashford touched me.

I close my eyes, feel the ghost of his palm against my cheek, the warmth of his skin.

The way his thumb stroked my cheekbone.

"I can touch you," he'd breathed.

"I'm touching you."

I'd felt tears prick my eyes.

He'd looked at me like I was a miracle

I roll onto my side, the clock on the nightstand reads 2:47 AM.

What if it doesn't work again?

My own thought haunts me.

What if tonight was a fluke?

What if he wakes up tomorrow and can't touch me?

What if I'm not the cure he's hoping for?

Five million dollars.

That's what he's paying me, I couldn't say no.

Even if it doesn't work, even if I can't cure him.

Even if I'm just another failed experiment.

I press my palm against my chest, my heart is racing.

What if I'm not enough?

Morning comes too fast.

The days blur together.

Session one: He holds my hand for thirty minutes. No flinching, no panic.

Session two: He touches my arm, his fingers trace the curve of my shoulder.

Session three: He sits behind me on the couch with his hands resting on my shoulders.

Session four: He cups my face again. His thumb strokes my lower lip.

Session five: He hugs me, his arms wrap around my waist, his face buries in my hair.

"It's real," he whispers.

"You're real."

Session six: He lies with his head in my lap and I stroke his hair while he goes to sleep.

Session seven: He pins me against the wall, his hands on either side of my head. His body pressing against mine.

"I want to kiss you," he says.

I'm trembling. "Then kiss me."

He leans in, his lips hover over mine.

Close enough that I can feel his breath, close enough that I can taste him.

But he doesn't close the gap.

"Not yet," he whispers.

"I need to be sure."

"Sure of what?"

He pulls back quickly with darkened, desperate eyes.

"Sure that when I kiss you, I won't break."

The next morning, I find him in the living room.

He's sitting on the couch, the contract spread out on the coffee table. There's a second document beside it.

"Derrick?"

He looks up. His eyes are focused.

"Sit down," he says.

"We need to talk."

My stomach drops. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." He gestures to the couch. "Please. Sit."

I sit across from him.

He takes a breath, then he slides the new document toward me.

"I want to revise the contract," he says.

I stare at him. "Revise it?"

"Yes." He meets my eyes.

"The sessions are working, you're helping me. But…" He stops. Swallows.

"But I need more."

"More?"

He leans forward.

"I want to include more intimate contact," he says. "Cuddling, sleeping in the same bed. Kissing."

I feel my cheeks flush. "Derrick—"

"I know it's a lot." His voice is rough.

"But I need to push myself. I need to see if I can handle it. If I can handle being with a woman"

He pushes the contract closer. I look down at it.

AMENDMENT TO CONTRACT

Ms. Ellison agrees to the following additional terms:

1. Physical Contact: In addition to the daily sessions outlined in the original contract, Ms. Ellison agrees to engage in intimate physical contact with Mr. Ashford, including but not limited to: cuddling, embracing, hand-holding, kissing, and sleeping in the same bed.

2. s****l Contact: If deemed necessary for the progression of Mr. Ashford's treatment, Ms. Ellison agrees to engage in s****l intercourse with Mr. Ashford. This term is optional and may be declined at any time without penalty.

3. Compensation: In consideration of the additional terms, Mr. Ashford agrees to pay Ms. Ellison an additional three million dollars ($3,000,000), for a total contract value of eight million dollars ($8,000,000). The full amount shall be paid upfront upon execution of this amendment.

My eyes go wide.

"s*x?" I breathe.

He nods, his jaw is tight. "If needed."

"Derrick—"

I stare at the contract, at the words on the page.

Eight million dollars, all upfront.

"What if it doesn't work?" I ask.

He's quiet for a long moment.

"Then I'll have tried," he says.

"And I'll have you. Even if only for a year."

My heart aches.

"And what if I say no?"

He meets my eyes.

"Then I'll respect that, we'll stick to the original contract. You'll still get the five million."

He pauses.

"But I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't be disappointed."

"Disappointed?"

He looks away.

"I want to hold you," he says quietly.

"I want to know what it feels like to kiss someone without fear." He meets my eyes again.

"I want to be with you. Completely. And I'm terrified that if I don't try…" He stops.

I look down at the contract.

Sexual intercourse, if deemed necessary.

Optional, may be declined at any time without penalty.

He's giving me an out.

He reaches across the table and takes my hand.

"I'm not asking you to love me," he says.

"I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend. I'm asking you to be with me. To help me remember what it feels like to be human."

I look at our joined hands, at the way his fingers curl around mine.

"Okay," I whisper.

He blinks. "Okay?"

"Yes." I pick up the pen.

"I'll do it."

I sign my name at the bottom of the amendment.

Ayla Ellison and slide it back to him.

He stares at it, at my signature.

Then he looks at me.

"Thank you," he says.

"Thank you, Ayla."

He brings my hand to his lips and presses them against my knuckles.

"Tonight," he says.

"Sleep in my bed. Please."

I nod.

That night, I lie in his bed.

His arms wrapped around me, his chest pressed against my back.

His breath warm against my neck.

"Ayla?"

His voice is soft and sleepy.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for staying."

I smile in the darkness.

"Thank you for asking."

He tightens his arms around me as he looks at me.

In the moonlight, I can see the wonder in his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks. "Just once?"

My heart pounds.

"Yes."

He leans in.

His lips hover over mine, close enough to feel his breath. Close enough to taste him.

But he stops.

"Not yet," he whispers.

"I need to be ready."