Contracted to the Ruthless CEO

The First Battle

The dress was a stunning, emerald green silk that felt like liquid against her skin, cinched at the waist, showing off curves she didn't know she possessed. The makeup artist the estate provided had transformed her from a tired analyst into an ethereal socialite. She stared at her reflection—she looked like someone who belonged here. The clothes may have changed her shell, but the anxiety was still real.

She met Elias in the grand foyer. He wore a crisp black suit, making him look less like a CEO and more like a Greek statue carved from obsidian. He barely glanced at her.

"We are late. Hold my arm."

His touch, firm and impersonal, sent a bizarre current through her. He felt like cold marble, powerful but distant.

The dinner was held in a private suite downtown. The moment they entered, the room went silent. Every eye turned to them, but Aisha only saw one.

Seated regally at the center of the table was a striking, blonde woman in a blood-red gown—Seraphina. The venom in her eyes was instant and potent.

"Elias! Darling," Seraphina cooed, rising to greet him. She ignored Aisha completely. "It's good to see you didn't miss this one. And who is this... delightful little thing you brought along? Did your staff finally hire a competent handmaiden?"

The slight was a punch to the gut. Aisha's hands tightened on Elias's arm. Be quiet, be meek, don't react, she coached herself.

"This is my wife, Seraphina," Elias stated, his voice dropping to a dangerous baritone. The word 'wife' was a steel hammer hitting the table.

Seraphina recoiled slightly, her smile hardening. "Your wife? How sudden. We all know you only ever had eyes for one person, Elias. And a little brown sparrow with no pedigree doesn't look like she belongs anywhere near the Thorne family name." Seraphina reached out, intending to pat Aisha's arm in a condescending gesture.

That was the line. Before Seraphina's perfectly manicured hand could touch Aisha, Elias stepped forward, his body shielding Aisha, his height towering over the blonde woman.

"Seraphina," Elias's voice was a low snarl, and every person at the table leaned in to hear. "I don't care who I had 'eyes for' in the past. My wife is my present. You are an expired debt I have long since settled."

He paused, letting the silence draw taut.

"Now," he added, his icy gaze sweeping over the table, "I suggest you all remember your manners, or you will find the Thorne Corporation no longer has any use for your services. My wife is not to be disrespected. Do I make myself clear?"

He didn't offer a hug or a kiss—it wasn't in the contract—but the chilling, powerful defense was more potent than any romantic gesture. He guided a stunned Aisha to her seat, leaving Seraphina standing alone, her face a mask of impotent rage.

Aisha sat down, her heart pounding. Elias Thorne may be cold, but he was a man of his word. He would protect his assets. And for the next year, she was his most valuable, and most visible, asset.