Contract Desires

The scent of old books wrapped around Riley Carter like a familiar embrace as she climbed the rolling ladder in Carter's Corner Books. Her fingers danced across weathered spines until they landed on the 1937 first edition of 'Their Eyes Were Watching God' that Mrs. Abernathy had special ordered. 'Got it!' Riley called down to the elderly woman waiting by the register, her voice echoing through the empty bookstore. At 10 AM on a Tuesday, downtown Seattle hadn't quite woken up yet. She carefully descended, her worn Converse making soft thuds against the wooden steps. Mrs. Abernathy's wrinkled hands trembled as she accepted the book. 'You're a gem, Riley. This was my mother's favorite.' 'That'll be $85 with your senior discount,' Riley said, tapping the vintage cash register that had been in her family's shop since the 1950s. The cheerful ding of the sale couldn't mask the quiet panic in her chest-another day with only three customers by noon. The online retailers were killing them. After Mrs. Abernathy left, Riley slumped against the counter, staring at the 'Going Out of Business' sign she still hadn't had the heart to put up. The bell above the door jingled again. 'We're not buying anything today, Liv,' Riley said without looking up, recognizing her cousin's expensive perfume cutting through the bookshop musk. 'Good thing I'm here to give you something then.' Olivia dropped a cream-colored envelope on the counter. 'Gala invite. Black tie. Tomorrow night.' Riley groaned. 'No way. Last time you dragged me to one of your society events, I spilled champagne on some senator's wife.' 'This is different.' Olivia's manicured finger tapped the embossed crest on the envelope. 'Whitmore Foundation Annual Charity Ball. The who's who of Seattle will be there. Including potential investors for this place Riley's throat tightened. She hadn't told anyone about the bank's final notice. 'I don't have anything to wear to something like that.' Olivia grinned like a cat who got the cream. 'Which is why I took the liberty of having a dress sent to your apartment. Wear your hair down. And for God's sake, ditch the Chucks for one night.' ーー The next evening, Riley stood frozen outside the glittering Four Seasons ballroom, adjusting the straps of the emerald green gown Olivia had chosen. The fabric clung in all the right places, making her feel like an imposter in her own skin. 'Stop fidgeting,' Olivia hissed, steering her toward the check-in. 'You look stunning. Now smile like you belong here. Inside, crystal chandeliers cast prisms of light across marble floors where women in designer gowns floated like exotic birds. Riley accepted a champagne flute from a passing waiter but didn't drink, already feeling lightheaded from the sensory overload. 'There's Margaret Whitmore,' Olivia whispered, nodding toward an elegant silver-haired woman holding court near the ice sculpture. 'Jordan Whitmore's grandmother. Rumor is she's pressuring him to settle down.' Riley barely registered the gossip, her attention caught by a display for the evening's charity— literacy programs for underserved communities. 'They're raising money for libraries?' Before Olivia could answer, a hush fell over their corner of the room. Riley turned to see what had captured everyone's attention. A tall figure moved through the crowd with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to being watched. Jordan Whitmore's navy suit hugged broad shoulders, his dark hair slightly tousled as if he'd been running his hands through it. When he turned to accept a drink, the light caught his startlingly blue eyes-the exact shade of the vintage turquoise necklace Riley's mother had left her. 'Don't stare,' Olivia giggled, but Riley wasn't staring at the billionaire's handsome face. She was staring at the book tucked under his arm—a well-worn copy of 'The Great Gatsby.' As if sensing her gaze, Whitmore turned. Their eyes locked across the crowded room. Riley's breath hitched as something electric crackled between them-not attraction, but recognition. The strange certainty that this moment mattered. Then Olivia was pulling her away, chattering about introducing her to someone important, and the spell broke. But when Riley glanced back, Jordan Whitmore was still watching her, his expression unreadable. --- Two hours later, Riley escaped to the terrace for air, her feet aching from unfamiliar heels. The cool night breeze carried the scent of Puget Sound as she leaned against the railing, finally pulling the pins from her hair. 'You look like you'd rather be anywhere else.' The deep voice startled her. Jordan Whitmore stood a few feet away, holding two glasses of water. He offered one. 'Am I that obvious?' Riley accepted the glass, their fingers brushing briefly. 'Only to someone who feels the same way.' He joined her at the railing, setting his book on the ledge between them. 'You're Olivia's cousin?' Riley Carter.' She resisted the urge to wipe her suddenly damp palms on her dress. 'And yes, gala attendance wasn't exactly my idea.' 'But you came anyway.' His gaze dropped to her bare feet where she'd kicked off her heels. 'Practical.' A surprise laugh escaped her. ‘My bookstore’s struggling. Olivia thought I might meet some investors.' Jordan studied her with unexpected intensity. 'Carter's Corner on 3rd Avenue? The one with the original tin ceiling?' 'You've been there?' 'Once. Years ago.' Something shadowed passed behind his eyes. 'You have a first edition of 'The Bell Jar' in the glass case near the register.' Riley's pulse stuttered. That particular book had been her mother's favorite. Before she could respond, a sharp female voice cut through the night. 'Jordan, there you are.' A stunning blonde in a silver gown appeared, slipping her arm through his. 'Margaret's asking for you.' Her icy gaze swept over Riley with clear dismissal. Jordan's posture stiffened. 'Silvia, this is Riley Carter.' 'Charmed.' Silvia's smile didn't reach her eyes. 'We really must go, Jordan. The auction's starting.' As they walked away, Riley could have sworn she saw Jordan glance back at her. Or maybe she imagined it. What she didn't imagine was Silvia's possessive hand on his arm, or the way the other woman whispered something that made Jordan's jaw tighten. Riley turned back to the city lights, confused by the strange ache in her chest. She barely knew Jordan Whitmore. So why did it feel like she'd just lost something important?