The Heart Clause With The Billionaire

chapter 3

MALIK.

I didn’t stick around long at the gala. My attention was elsewhere already. I did my appearance, forced the required smiles, shook the required hands, and handed over a huge check to the charity representative. That was all anyone would care about anyway. The only thing truly in my mind was the deal I was about to sign with the Devontes, a billion-dollar deal that would top months of subtle secrecy and behind-the-scenes maneuvering as long as I married Celia.

Stepping out of the event hall, Kane fell into step beside me, his face set in its usual exasperation.

"But you haven't made your speech yet, Malik," he said, watching me rapidly tapping across my phone screen.

"I'm not in the mood to give one," I said, still not looking up. "You can give it. Instead of me."

He sighed. "You do know that people are going to be looking for you when your name is called, don't you?"

"I'm leaving it in your hands," I said, pressing the elevator button. "Make it short, add a quote, get them to clap."

"Fine," he drawled, dragging out the word. "You owe me one."

"Don’t I always." I replied with a smirk. He strolled off back down towards the hall while I stepped inside the elevator. With the doors closing, a message flickered up.

Celia: Lunch with my parents on Thursday? Please come. They’d love it.

I swiped the message aside without answering.

I didn't hate Celia. We were friends, actually. We'd known each other since childhood, when things were simple and games weren't played in stocks and shares. Somewhere along the line, she'd loved me, or rather loved me in some dream. I, on the other hand, couldn't love as I was incapable of it.

We'd f****d each other a few times in college, when it had been casual and non exclusive. But she got too invested, started asking questions, and I ended it before things got complicated.

Now? Marrying her was beneficial to me.

First, it gave way to a very lucrative merger with her family’s pharmaceutical empire. Second, it fulfilled my late father's inheritance requirement, a very bitter stipulation that I be legally married before receiving outright Wolf Inc.

He built Wolf Inc, but I formed my own company and outdid him. Wolfe Global was mine, large, imnovative, global, and I wanted total control of Wolf Inc so I could absorb it into Wolfe Global. But I couldn't get it until I signed a goddamn marriage license.

The thought made my jaw clench as I pushed open the door to the bar.

It was softly lit, expensive, and isolated, just the way I liked it. People here spoke in hushed tones and clinked glasses. My eyes swept the room, landing on a booth in the back that was vacant.

Perfect.

I walked over to it quickly, glancing down at my phone to read a text from one of my board members. I had just reached the front of the booth when the blur of a figure swept by me, heels clicking, a cloud of cinnamon and raspberry scent brushing against my nose.

I came to a stop in my tracks.

She glided into the booth like she owned it, smoothing a hand over a dark blue satin dress that clung to her like a second skin. Her dark hair was pulled up, some loose strands framing her face. She took the menu, opening it with deliberate ease, her entire attention on it.

I clear my throat. "Excuse me, miss," I said. "But this table is for me.”

She didn't even glance at me. "Did you make a reservation for it?" she asked curtly.

My eyebrows leapt up. The audacity.

"Well….no," I said, trying not to sound as petulant as I suddenly felt. "But I was here first."

“Did you?” She finally looked up. Emerald green eyes met mine, cool and calm. They were fringed by long lashes, lids slightly lowered in indifference. Her nose was delicately shaped, and her full lips a deep red that caught the eye, against my better judgment.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I didn't mean—" she began sweetly, then her face chilled. "Well, actually, I don't really care. You'll have to find somewhere else."

I looked at her. "Find somewhere else?" I repeated to be sure I heard her right.

She blinked once, slowly, as if I was stupid. "Yes."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, already tired. "Listen, I don't have time for this. You should get up and get out of here while you’re still ahead of it".

She tilted her head, looking as though she couldn't possibly believe what I'd just said. Her brows shot up, and she let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Respectfully, sir?" she replied with saccharine sweetness, "f**k off."

My head jerked back slightly. This little…

I took a breath for patience. She'd already gone back to her menu, clearly pretending I wasn't there. I wasn't going anywhere. Not now. I was getting that drink whether she liked it or not.

Without invitation, I slid into the booth opposite her, reclining into the seat with an air of nonchalance, angling back slightly. Her eyes lanced to mine like laser lights.

She leaned forward, jamming her finger at the table space between us. "This booth is mine. You have to get out."

"No," I replied bluntly. "It's mine. I got here first."

She scoffed. "No, you didn't. I got there and sat down first. So it’s mine."

"Whatever," I replied, waving my hand. "I don't really care."

She scowled at the sound of her own words.

"We're going to have to get along, it seems," I replied with a strained smile, motioning a server with one hand.

The server approached with a friendly, uneasy smile, the sort of that said he knew who I was. He bowed slightly and asked, "What would you both have tonight?"

I leaned back. "Scotch for me. And water for the lady."

Her head turned sharply, eyebrows rising. "Excuse me?" she addressed the server, turning away. "No. Whiskey for me, please."

I didn't even flinch. "I'm paying," I told the waiter, eyes still fixed on hers. "So scotch for me. Water for her."

The server hesitated, looking at both of us then nodded and nearly ran off.

Her scowl could've liquefied steel. "I can pay for my own f*****g drink. You're a jerk, you know that?”

I nodded, unrepentant. "Sure.".

That reply surprised her. Her lips parted a fraction as if she expected denial or hostility, and instead I'd confirmed her accusation with ease. She blinked and turned away, huffing and muttering something under her breath that I didn't quite catch.

It hit me then, she didn't have a clue who I was. She just thought I was some pompous ass in a bar. It was… refreshing.

When the server returned, he put the drinks on the table with a clear sigh of relief and left quickly. She leaned and grabbed the scotch, leaving the water behind and I smiled. She took a long swig as if daring me to complain.

I didn't. I was too entertained. And somehow curious.

I tucked my phone in my pocket and I leaned forward slightly, watching her with open interest.

"So," I said smoothly. "What are doing here this fine evening?”

She swished the amber liquid. "Nothing worth mentioning."

"I doubt that," I said with a half-smile. Why was I smiling so much and why did they feel real?

She breathed in after a moment and then spoke, "Charity gala."

I leaned back, finally. I hadn't been expecting that. "You went to the gala?"

She nodded mutely. "Briefly. Donated, heard some speeches, got bored. The usual."

My curiosity was piqued. "So you're in the entertainment business?"

"Something like that," she said evasively, looking at me now, lips curling. "What about you? You look like you buy countries for fun."

I chuckled. "A few things. Stocks primarily. Real estate. Technology."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Now, the arrogance makes sense. So you're rich."

"Moderately."

"And evasive."

"You started it.".

She scoffed softly. "Touché."

We fell into a rhythm. Something that had begun as animosity turned itself into something else as we exchanged friendly questions, half-smiles, and the occasional accidental brush of fingers when reaching for the glass we now seemed to be sharing.

She gave little. Didn’t say her name or what her job really was or who she came with. But I saw her. Underneath the rebellion and shine was something raw. Something broken.

There was agony in her eyes, not the type you could hide behind mascara or sarcasm.

She was hurting. And I knew pain when I saw it.

Because I lived with mine daily, under the expensive lifestyle and eight-figure contracts.

She finished the scotch in a long, slow sip and set the glass down. Then she looked out the window and murmured, more to herself than to me, “Life’s a lot worse when you’re alone.”

The words hit a chord deep within my chest, a place I buried. I sat there and observed her for what seemed like an eternity. “I can help, temporarily," I whispered, voice lower now, more intimate. Her eyes flicked to me once more, brows creased in question. "Just tonight," I went on, leaning forward just a fraction. "No names. No histories. No expectations. Just… an escape. For both of us."

Her eyes widened and she went silent. I didn't push. I waited. Then she bit at her lip. Slowly. And I nearly groaned out loud.

A heartbeat passed. Two. Then she looked up and caught my gaze. Her voice was gentle, but sure. "Okay."

I didn't need to ask twice. I rose at once, looping around the table to help her up. Then I led her out of the booth, past the bar, avoiding curious stares, and out of the building to where my vehicle waited.

The drive was charged and blurry as we descended on each other, kissing and suckling. In minutes, we were at the hotel and were past the lobby, straight to the elevator. By the time we arrived at the suite, we were light headed with need.

Clothes were discarded in a trail across the floor—shoes, dress, tie, belt.

Her naked body stretched out before me, and I stood frozen for a whole second committing her to memory. The shape of her breasts, the soft rise and fall of her belly, her glistening p***y. She was all I didn't realize I was wanted.

My heart thudded so loudly. I moved closer to her, and I wrapped my arms around her, our mouths meeting once more as I pushed into her, and for the first time in so very long, my head went empty from sheer pleasure.