The Alpha's Contract Luna

Chapter 3

Nadia Cole had three rules for moving into a billionaire’s penthouse.

First, never be impressed by expensive furniture.

Second, never accept anything without knowing what it costs.

Third, if the billionaire in question looked at you as though he could read your thoughts, remind yourself that he was probably just arrogant.

She repeated the rules while staring at the black SUV parked outside her apartment.

It was sleek, polished, and entirely unnecessary.

A man in a dark suit stood beside the passenger door, holding a tablet.

“Miss Cole?”

“That depends. Are you here to repossess something?”

He blinked. “I’m here to assist with your move. Mr. Veyne sent me.”

Of course he had.

Nadia glanced at the SUV. “Did Mr. Veyne also send the vehicle?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I asked for a reliable car, not a presidential motorcade.”

“The vehicle is part of the arrangement.”

“Then tell him I said thank you. Now, where’s the actual car?”

The man hesitated.

Nadia folded her arms. “I’m joking. Mostly.”

He opened the passenger door.

She sighed and climbed in.

The interior smelled of leather and money. Her old car, which had served her faithfully until it began making noises that suggested an impending mechanical collapse, would have looked like a shopping trolley beside this thing.

She hated that she liked it.

Her phone vibrated.

ROMAN: The car meets your requirements.

NADIA: I didn't know my requirements included enough leather to upholster a small hotel.

His reply came almost immediately.

ROMAN: I’ll ask them to remove some.

Nadia smiled before she could stop herself.

Then she put the phone away.

No. She was not going to start enjoying this.

Not when six months could turn into a lifetime of complications if she let herself forget what their arrangement really was.

Roman Veyne’s penthouse occupied the top floors of a building. Nadia had seen photographs of it online, but photographs did not prepare her for the actual place.

The lift opened directly into a vast living area with floor-to-ceiling windows. Land stretched beyond the glass, bright and noisy in the distance. Inside, everything was immaculate: pale stone floors, dark furniture, carefully placed artwork, and not a single object that looked as though anyone had ever used it carelessly.

The place had the personality of a luxury showroom.

Roman stood near the windows, dressed in a charcoal shirt and dark trousers. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, revealing a silver watch.

He turned when she entered.

“You’re early.”

“You’re welcome.”

His eyes moved to the two suitcases beside her.

“That's everything?”

“I'm a lawyer, not a migrating bird.”

“I meant your belongings.”

“And I meant my answer.”

The corner of his mouth lifted.

Nadia disliked how easily he seemed to find her amusing.

“Your suite is ready,” he said. “This way.”

She followed him down a corridor, keeping her eyes open. There were several doors along the hall, all closed.

He stopped beside one and opened it.

The bedroom was larger than her entire apartment's living room. A king-sized bed stood against a dark upholstered headboard. There was a private bathroom, a walk-in wardrobe, and a desk positioned near the window.

Nadia walked inside and inspected the lock.

Roman watched her.

“Are you checking whether you can escape?”

“I’m checking whether you can enter without permission.”

“The door locks from the inside.”

“And the key?”

“You have it.”

He handed her a small key card.

She tested the lock, closed the door, and opened it again.

“Acceptable.”

“I’m relieved.”

“Don’t be. I haven’t inspected the bathroom.”

“You’re welcome to conduct a full investigation.”

She gave him a flat look.

He raised both hands. “I’ll leave you to it.”

At the doorway, he paused.

“Dinner is at seven.”

“Is that an invitation or an instruction?”

“An invitation.”

“Then I’ll consider it.”

He left.

Nadia shut the door and leaned against it.

She had survived a hostile courtroom with less effort than it took to speak to that man for five minutes.

And yet, when she looked around the room again, she noticed something that bothered her.

The desk faced the windows. The wardrobe had enough space for all her clothes. A stack of fresh stationery sat beside a new laptop dock.

He had paid attention to her requests.

That was inconvenient.

She preferred her enemies thoughtless. It made them easier to dislike.

At six fifty-five, Nadia entered the dining room wearing a simple black dress.

Roman was already seated at the table. Two plates had been set out, along with a bottle of red wine and a glass of water.

He looked up.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Nadia stopped. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“I noticed you changed.”

“I assumed dinner required clothes.”

“I was going to say you look nice.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Good. I’d hate for the first evening of our arrangement to end with me explaining to your doctors that you developed a personality.”

Roman laughed under his breath.

She took her seat.

Dinner was served by a quiet member of staff who disappeared once the plates were placed before them. Nadia waited until they were alone before speaking.

“So, how does this work?”

Roman cut into his food. “Dinner?”

“Living together. Are there rules I should know about? Secret doors? Restricted floors? A basement full of people who failed to meet your expectations?”

“No basement.”

“Disappointing. I was hoping for a proper villain’s lair.”

“You’ve watched too many films.”

“You’ve clearly inspired a few.”

He set down his knife.

“There are areas of my life you won't understand immediately.”

“Then explain them when they become relevant.”

“It may not be that simple.”

“Roman, I practise divorce law. I spend my days listening to people explain why their marriages fell apart. Believe me, complicated is familiar.”

His expression changed slightly.

“Do you think this marriage will fall apart?”

“I think it was built to end.”

The answer sat between them.

Roman looked at her for a long moment before returning to his meal.

“Six months,” he said.

“Six months.”

“And then we walk away.”

“Exactly.”

Neither of them sounded entirely convinced.

Later that night, Nadia was unpacking her toiletries when she heard a noise outside her door.

She froze.

It came again: a low, rough sound, almost like an animal growling.

She opened the door.

The corridor was empty.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

She stepped out, listening. The sound seemed to come from the far end of the hall, near a set of double doors.

She had not seen anyone enter that room.

Curiosity was a terrible habit, but Nadia had never been particularly good at ignoring it.

She took a few steps towards the doors.

“Nadia.”

She turned sharply.

Roman stood behind her, his expression unusually hard.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I heard something.”

“You should return to your room.”

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“The room at the end of the corridor is private.”

“I wasn't trying to break into it.”

“Then there should be no problem with you staying away from it.”

His tone was colder than it had been at dinner.

Nadia's own temper rose.

“You know, for someone who agreed that I could live here without being controlled, you’re remarkably fond of giving orders.”

“I’m not controlling you. I’m asking you to respect the boundary.”

“Then say that instead of speaking to me like I’m an employee who wandered into the wrong meeting.”

His jaw tightened.

For one strange second, she thought his eyes had changed. The dark brown seemed lighter, almost gold, catching the corridor light in a way that made her take a step back.

Then it was gone.

Roman looked away.

“Please go to your room,” he said quietly.

The change in his voice unsettled her more than the order.

Nadia studied him, searching for an explanation.

“Fine,” she said at last. “But if something in this house tries to eat me, I’m deducting it from your thirteen million.”

She walked past him.

Roman waited until her door closed before turning towards the double doors.

Inside, Ares paced furiously.

She heard us.

She heard a noise.

She is Moonborn. She can hear what others cannot.

Roman pressed his fingers against his temples.

You don't know that.

Her blood knows.

He stared at the closed doors.

For years, he had kept his wolf under control through discipline and routine. Now Ares reacted to Nadia as though every instinct he possessed had been waiting for her.

And the more Roman tried to dismiss it, the more certain his wolf became.

Mate.

“Not now,” Roman whispered.

Ares snarled.

You cannot keep the truth from her forever.

Roman had no answer.

Because Ares was right.

At two seventeen in the morning, Nadia woke to the sound of glass breaking.

She sat upright.

For several seconds, she heard nothing but her own breathing. Then came a heavy thud from somewhere beyond her bedroom wall.

She grabbed her phone and switched on the torch.

“This is why I should have bought a house with normal neighbours,” she muttered.

She crossed the room and opened the door.

The corridor was dark except for a strip of light beneath the double doors at the far end.

Another crash followed.

Nadia took one step forward.

Then a voice came from behind her.

“Get back into your room.”

Roman stood in the shadows. He was barefoot, wearing black trousers and nothing else. His chest rose and fell as if he had been running.

A thin line of blood marked his forearm.

Nadia stared at it.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s usually what people say when it’s definitely something.”

He moved towards her, then stopped as if fighting an urge to come closer.

For a moment, the air between them felt strangely charged. Nadia's palm began to tingle. She looked down.

The silver crescent had returned.

It glimmered beneath her skin.

Roman saw it.

All the colour seemed to drain from his face.

“Nadia,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Where did you get that mark?”

She looked from her hand to his face.

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

The lights flickered.

From behind the double doors came a deep, furious growl.

Nadia went still.

That was no dog.

Roman stepped between her and the sound.

“Go inside,” he ordered.

This time, she did not argue. Something in his expression told her that whatever lived behind those doors was not a joke, and Roman was genuinely afraid of what might happen if she stayed.

She backed into her room but left the door open.

“Roman?”

He looked at her.

“What exactly have I married into?”

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then the growling stopped.

And a voice—not Roman’s—spoke from the darkness beyond the doors.

“Moonborn.”

Nadia's blood turned cold.

Roman shut his eyes.

The secret he had spent his life protecting had just spoken her name.