The Billionaire's Contract Bride

Fire

The buzzer wouldn’t stop screaming.

Damian ignored it. His mouth was on mine. Hands in my hair. The $9 ring pressing into my skin.

Then the smell hit. Smoke. Not candle smoke. Real smoke. Burning plastic. Burning coffee.

“Damian,” I choked. Pulled back. “Do you smell that?”

He went still. CEO instincts snapping back even in my bed.

He was at the window in 2 seconds. Pulled the curtain.

Flames. Licking up the side of _Grounds & Glory_ from the street below. Red and orange eating the café he’d worked 80 hours for.

His jaw locked. “Isabella.”

My stomach dropped. “The café—”

“Forget the café.” He was already yanking on jeans. No shirt. Bare chest. “I’m getting you out.”

The fire alarm wailed. Downstairs people were screaming.

Damian grabbed me. No shoes. No shirt on me either. Just his tee from last night.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered. Pulled me into the hallway.

Smoke everywhere. Heat on our skin. People pushing past, coughing.

“Damian, your job—” I tried to say.

“Gone,” he cut me off. Covered my mouth with his sleeve. “You’re not.”

We hit the stairs. 4 floors down. He carried me when my feet slipped. Shielded me when a door exploded behind us with heat.

Outside, fire trucks. Screaming. Water.

And Isabella. Standing across the street. Red dress. Phone out. Recording.

She met my eyes through the smoke and smiled.

Damian saw her too. Set me down gently. “Stay here.”

Then he walked straight toward her. No fear. No hesitation. Broke barista with a billionaire’s spine.

“You did this,” he said. Voice low. Deadly quiet.

Isabella shrugged. “Accident. Faulty wiring. Shame. I just bought that building yesterday. Guess your wife’s ramen fund is gone too.”

Damian looked back at me. At the $9 ring on my hand. Then at her.

“You think this hurts me?” He laughed. No humor. “You burned a café. I burned a billion-dollar company for her in Chapter 10. You’re 3 chapters behind, Isabella.”

He turned. Walked back to me. Ignored her. Ignored the cameras. Ignored the fire.

He cupped my face. Soot on his hands. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head. Couldn’t speak. Tears cutting through ash on my cheeks.

“Good.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “I’d rather be broke and homeless than 1 second without you breathing.”

Firefighter pushed between us. “Sir, you need to move back—”

Damian didn’t move. Just wrapped me tighter. “I’m not moving. Not from her. Not ever.”

Isabella’s laugh cracked. “You have nothing now, Damian! No company. No café. No money. What will you give her?”

Damian looked up. Grey eyes clear through the smoke.

“I’ll give her me,” he said simply. “Same as Chapter 11. Same as Chapter 14. Same as every chapter after this.”

He picked me up again. Walked past the fire trucks. Past Isabella’s cameras. Past the burning building that held his last paycheck.

We stopped at a payphone. He had $0.40 in his pocket. Last coins.

He dialed. One number.

“Yeah,” he said when someone answered. “It’s Damian Black. You offered me a partnership last week. The one where I had to divorce my wife?”

Pause.

“My answer’s still no. But I’ll take the partnership if it comes with a 2-bedroom apartment and health insurance for her. And if you ever touch her, I’ll burn that company too.”

He hung up. Looked at me.

“New job starts Monday,” he said. “Pay’s less. Hours are worse. Boss is an idiot.”

I laughed through tears. “Who?”

He kissed my forehead. Ash and all. “Me. I’m the boss now. Of us.”

Isabella’s voice cut through the sirens: “You’ll regret this, Damian!”

He didn’t turn. Just tightened his arms around me.

“I regret nothing,” he said into my hair. “Except every minute I spent without you before Chapter 1.”

The fire behind us roared. But in his arms, I wasn’t cold. Wasn’t scared.

Broke. Burned out. But his.

And he was mine.