His Contract Wife: Her Billionaire's Revenge

CHAPTER 2

HAZEL

LATER THAT DAY

“This is for maltreatment."

“And this…is for healing."

“While this is for what the future holds."

Those were my words as the drink burned down my throat with a familiar sensation; each gulp sent signals I couldn't place to my brain. Then I took another reckless gulp, clenching my teeth in response to the warmth in my throat.

Yes, I was intoxicated.

But that was what I needed. It was the only therapy that could offer temporary relief to my aching mind.

I needed to experience a different world. A world of myself alone– one without pain, without the sting of bitterness from my family, without the betrayal from someone I loved and trusted.

As the last shot ran down my throat with fulfillment, a gentle but firm touch greased my shoulder.

Before I could turn my head in an attempt to catch a glimpse of who touched me, I heard something in my ears.

“Hey, you don't look okay…you look like you need help,” the voice came, velvet-like, soothing and pleasing to the ears, like a melody to music.

But that wasn't all.

Despite my tipsy state, I could see a man standing beside me. Dressed in a magnificently styled suit, his dark blue eyes shone with perfection, as if they could pierce into my body and detect my woe. His broad shoulders were proof that he worked out a lot. He had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. He must be a fallen angel.

He had small lips, tall muscular arms, and, to crown it all, perfectly trimmed beards to match his facial shape.

“I don't need anyone's help, thank you," I snarled in a rude manner, trying to make him back off.

But he didn't. Instead, his lips curled into a contagious smile, affecting me in a way I didn't understand. His hand still rested on my shoulder, and I could swear I never wanted him to take it off.

But you're struggling, it's written all over you,” he insisted, his tone firm and certain, becoming different from earlier.

“You think you have what it takes to help me…when you don't even know anything about me?” I muttered, searching for breath as the faint glow of light shone into my eyes.

I didn't want to further the conversation with him, I just wanted him to go away, but another part of me wanted him to stay...maybe because of how his presence affected me, pressing me down like an unshakable vice.

“I really appreciate your concern, Mr…” I said, resisting my desires by slightly pushing his hand away from my shoulder while I fumbled for my bag and made to leave. "You may be lucky enough to help me some other time, but not tonight.”

He was the one offering to help so I should be the lucky one and not him. But I didn't care.

But as I stood to leave, he caught my hand with the kind of speed that almost made me trip in my drunk state. His grip was firm but comfortingly warm. I wanted to slam his wrist off but his words swept me off my feet.

“You keep pretending, as if you're too strong to be saved," he said, his eyes locked on mine, confidence oozing from his voice.

“But I can see through you, you're only tired of not being seen…of no one choosing you,” he added with a smirk before letting go of my hand.

My breath hitched as his words registered in my head, words caught in my throat as I tried to process how he got to know so much about me.

The way he effortlessly read my emotions was baffling.

As if he was so sure of his charm, he immediately offered me his hand, and with a small smile.

“I might just be all you need…for now,” he said.

I hesitated for a while, weighing the potential consequence of acceptance. But there was no point in hiding anymore. He had already seen through me.

And for a moment, I felt that was all that mattered. After all, I had always longed for someone to see me, to notice my predicament and offer a helping hand.

And that was exactly what he did.

Before I could stop myself, I took his hand. That was everything we needed, because immediately, he held me, took me by the waist and guided me out of the bar.

Next we were inside a building, the design hinted that it was a hotel – grand, with the floor designed with marbles, and the ceilings high and sophisticated. The walls were crisp and smooth.

His hand was warm on my waist as he guided me through the marble-floored lobby. The lights were too bright, or maybe my eyes were just too tired.

“Where's this and… what are you trying to…to do,” I stuttered, but I didn't stop following his lead.

“Why not wait and see, pretty," he declared in a hush tone. His body leaned closer, his arms brushing against my exposed skin and I felt shivers all over me.

“You need somewhere to pass the night because you're… a bit tipsy. So you can just say I'm trying to help.”

Then we entered a room, the air was thick with anticipation as he stood there examining my body with something dark in his eyes. As our gazes locked, there was a sense of perfect understanding, as if we knew each other before now.

“I usually don't do this," I protested. “I don't go out with strangers."

“You don’t need to explain,” he said, his voice quieter. “Nothing has to happen," he added with a reassuring smile.

I tried to shake off his effect on me, to act normal and controlled, but it was as difficult as climbing a mountain in a snowstorm.

Then, without awaiting approval, he moved closer, hands grabbing mine in a slow but firm grip. I didn't know why but I felt my body stiffened at his touch.

“Are you sure you're alright?" He probed, as if he saw my discomfort.

Of course I wasn't. Nothing felt alright, not even being with him. “I'll be alright," I lied. “I just need water."

He handed me a bottle without a word, watching me with a mixed, unreadable expression. I didn't know if it was pity or concern.

“We can just sit,” he offered, backing away slightly, giving me space.

“I don’t want to sit,” I retorted, closing the distance before I could stop myself.

My body was still warm from the drinks, but his closeness lit up something else– a desire that I never realized was there before now.

“Why…what do you want?” He asked, tone dripping in sincerity, advancing towards me with the kind of look that suggested he knew what I meant.

“I…I want to be seen,” I said but immediately bit my tongue in regret.

“Oh that?” He smirked, closing the gap between us, making us so close that I could feel his breath against my neck, then he gently grabbed my waist.

My breath hitched, and in that moment, for the first time in a while, I felt seen.

Something different had shifted within me, I had lost control of the moment…and if there was anything I wanted right there, it was more.