CONTRACT WITH THE RUTHLESS CEO.

Chapter 3: The Morning After

Sunlight hit my face.

I did not wake up to an alarm. I woke up to heat. A heavy arm across my waist. Bare skin against my back. The smell of expensive cologne and s*x.

Calder Thorne.

I was in Calder Thorne's bed.

Rule Number Three was shattered on the floor with my clothes. No sleepovers. I leave before dawn. I have a life.

I had not left.

Panic slammed into me. I looked at the windows. The city was fully awake. It was not dawn. It was morning. Late morning. I had broken Rule number 3, Rule Number 4, and probably my own sanity in one night.

I tried to slide out from under his arm. Slow. Silent. Like I was defusing a bomb.

His arm tightened. Leaving before dawn, Sloane?

His voice was rough from sleep. It did things to my stomach that I did not want to name.

I froze. Let me go.

Why? He did not open his eyes. But his thumb started drawing circles on my hip. Casual. Possessive. We have the whole day. Clause 1A is over. Now we negotiate.

I sat up fast. The sheet pooled at my waist. I grabbed it. There is nothing to negotiate. One month. Then we are done. That was the deal.

Now he opened his eyes. Gray. Sharp. Awake. The deal changes when you stay the night. When you say my name like you did. When you do not leave.

I scrambled off the bed. Found my blouse on the floor. My skirt. My sanity was gone, but I could at least be dressed. It was one night. Initiation night. Exempt. You said—"

I said a lot of things. He sat up. The sheet fell to his hips. He was not shy. He was not anything but in control. I also said I break things that belong to me.

I buttoned my blouse with shaking fingers. I do not belong to you.

His eyes went to my neck. I knew what he was looking at. The mark he left there. Dark. Visible. A brand. "That says otherwise.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it like it was a lifeline.

Mercy Ridge Hospital.

Text message: Sloane, we moved Valery's surgery up. OR slot opened. Need deposit TODAY by 5pm or we lose it. Please confirm wire. - Dr. Chen

The blood drained from my face. Today. Not tomorrow. Today.

I opened my banking app. Checked the hospital account. Zero. No wire. No forty-three million. Nothing.

Where is it? I whispered.

Calder was watching me. He had not moved from the bed. Where is what?

The money. I turned the phone to him. My hand was shaking. You said you made the call. You said it would be there by 9 a.m. It is 11:32. There is nothing, Calder. Nothing.

He looked at the phone. Then at me. No surprise. No worry. Just... waiting.

Say it, he said.

Say what?

Say please, Sloane. Say you need me.

The room tilted. You stopped the wire.

I delayed it. He stood up. Did not bother with clothes. Walked to me, completely naked, completely unashamed. "I wanted to see what you would do. If you would come to me or run.

I stepped back until my legs hit the wall. You... you wanted me to beg.

I wanted you to be honest. He stopped one foot from me. Last night, you said my name. You said you were mine. Was that a lie?

Yes. The word tore out of me. It was the contract. It was Clause 1A. It meant nothing.

He flinched. It was small. Barely there. But I saw it. For one second, Calder Thorne looked human. Hurt.

Then it was gone. Replaced with ice.

Fine. He turned away. Picked up his phone from the dresser. Tapped the screen twice. Check again.

My phone buzzed. Bank notification.

Wire Transfer Received: $43,000,000.00 from Thorne Holdings.

It was there. All of it. Sent 30 seconds ago.

You delayed it, I said. My voice was dead. To test me.

I delayed it to see if you would trust me. He did not look at me. He pulled on his suit pants. No shirt. Just like last night. You failed.

Something clicked in my head. A memory. Six months ago. Late night at the office. I was fixing his computer. His browser was open.

Search history: Mercy Ridge experimental trials

Valery Vance medical records

Sloane Vance background check

He had known. For months. He knew about Valery. About the treatment. About the cost. He could have helped. He could have offered me a loan. A bonus. Anything.

He waited. He waited until I was desperate enough to commit a felony. Until I walked into his office with a forged check. Until I was on my knees offering my body.

You knew, I said. Six months ago. You knew she was sick. You knew I was drowning.

He zipped his pants. Finally looked at me. Yes.

And you did nothing. My voice got louder. "You watched. You waited. For me to break. For me to come to you.

I was waiting for you to ask for help, Sloane. Not steal from me.

Ask? I laughed. It sounded broken. I did ask. I asked HR for an advance. I asked for a raise. I asked for unpaid leave. You know what your company said? 'Not policy.' Your policy, Calder.

He ran a hand through his hair. Frustrated. You should have come to me.

Right. Because billionaires love charity cases. I was yelling now. I did not care. You wanted this. You wanted me desperate. You wanted me in your bed with no other option.

"That is not—"

Is it not? I grabbed my bag. My shoes. You have been watching me for three years, you said. Planning this. Waiting. Did you get off on it? Watching me suffer?

Stop. His voice was a command. You do not get to rewrite this. You stole forty-three million dollars. You broke the law.

And you let me. I was at the door now. "You saw the check in my bag last night before you turned the lights on. I saw the camera in the corner of your office. You knew I was there. You let me think I was winning so you could own me when I lost.

He did not deny it.

That was answer enough.

I opened the door. The money is for Valery. Not for me. Not for this. The contract is void. Rule Number Four. No feelings. I feel disgusted.

I walked out. Did not look back. Did not run. I walked. Every step hurt. Not my body. My pride.

The elevator ride down took forever. Forty floors of shame. Forty floors of realizing I was never in control. He was always ten steps ahead.

Outside, the city was too bright. Too loud. I pulled out my phone to call a cab.

It rang in my hand.

Unknown number. But the voice I heard made my blood freeze.

Sloane Vance? A woman. Cold. Professional. This is Miranda Thorne. Calder's fiancee. We need to talk about your employment at Thorne Holdings. And about the forty-three million dollars you tried to steal.

The line went dead.

I stood on the sidewalk in front of Thorne Tower, phone to my ear, with forty-three million dollars in the hospital account and a fiancee I did not know existed.

But I was already breaking Rule Number 4. I did not know it yet.