THE BILLIONAIRE'S CONTRACT BABY

CHAPTER 3: THE RULES OF BEING MRS BLACK

CHAPTER 3: The Rules of Being Mrs. Black*

He walked away, leaving me alone in the cold mansion of ice, with a burning cheek and a contract that said I was Mrs. Black.

I stood there for a long time. My hand was still on my cheek. Four finger marks from Vanessa. My lip was bleeding a little. The marble floor was so cold it made my bare feet numb.

But I did not cry. Not anymore. If I cried in this house, no one would hear me.

A maid came. Not Maria, another one, younger, eyes down.

"Mrs. Black, Master said you should go to East Wing now. And put ice."

Master said. Everything was Master said. In this house, Ethan Black was God.

I followed her to East Wing. The room was beautiful. Too beautiful. King size bed with white sheets, chandelier, walk-in closet full of designer dresses with tags still on, $10,000, $20,000 each. All in my size. How did he know my size? Bathroom bigger than my old apartment in Queens.

I sat on the edge of the bed. My slippers were still wet from rain. My cheap dress was still damp. I looked like a beggar in a palace.

My phone buzzed. Hospital again.

"Patient Linda Cole is stable after surgery. She is sleeping. You can visit tomorrow after 10 AM. Private Wing A has 24-hour nurse. All bills paid by Black Empire."

Paid. My mother would live because I sold my womb. I should be happy. But I felt empty.

I went to bathroom and looked in mirror. Cheek was swollen, red, four clear fingers. Lip cut. Hair messy. Eyes red.

Vanessa Laurent did this. Supermodel, billionaire daughter, Ethan's contract girlfriend for five years. And she slapped me like I was nothing.

But Ethan defended me. He said "Don't ever touch my wife again." His voice was deadly. He grabbed her wrist so hard she turned white.

Why? He called me property, rented womb, defective goods. Why defend property?

Knock on door. Maria came in with ice in a white towel and a small medical box.

"Ma'am, for your cheek. Hold 15 minutes. Will reduce swelling."

"Thank you."

She looked at my cheek with pity. "Vanessa... she has done this before. Last year she slapped another girl who came to mansion for interview. Master did not stop her then. Today he stopped her. First time."

First time. So he never defended other women. Why me?

"Maria, why does he have contract girlfriend if he needs a wife for grandfather?"

Maria looked around, scared someone would hear. She whispered.

"Old Master Walter, he is 89. He built Black Empire from nothing. He is dying, heart problem. He told Master Ethan - if you don't marry and give me great-grandson in 14 months, I will give empire to cousin Adrian. Master Ethan hates marriage. He hates love. His own mother left his father for money when he was 10. So he paid Vanessa $50,000 a month to act as girlfriend, so family stops pressuring. But old Master is not stupid. He said - girlfriend is not wife. I want marriage. I want baby. Real family. Or no empire."

Now I understood. Ethan was desperate like me. I needed $50,000 for mother. He needed wife and baby for $20 Billion empire.

We both were selling ourselves.

Maria was about to leave, then stopped.

"Ma'am, one more thing. Master said... tonight you must sleep in West Wing."

I froze. "What?"

"West Wing is Master's wing. Black walls, black bed. But there is a maid, Rosa. She has worked for old Master Walter for 40 years. She is loyal to old Master. She cleans West Wing every night at 11 PM and reports to old Master what she sees. If she reports that new wife sleeps in East Wing on second night of marriage, old Master will know marriage is fake. So you must sleep in Master's room tonight."

Sleep in his room? In his bed? With Ethan Black?

My heart started beating fast. Loud. I could hear it.

"No! Contract says IVF! No touching! He said he will not touch me!"

"Ma'am, please lower voice," Maria whispered, scared. "Master said you will sleep on bed, he will sleep in study on couch. No touching. But you must be in same room when Rosa comes at 11 PM. Old Master's rule. He checks if couple shares room. Otherwise he knows it is business."

Business again. Act for old man.

I held ice tighter to cheek. "What time?"

"10:30 PM. Master will send guard for you. Wear something... presentable. Old maid will see."

She left.

Clock showed 9:50 PM. Forty minutes.

I looked at closet. All dresses were silk, Chanel, Dior, Versace. Most were half-naked, transparent, short. Bought for a wife, not for an incubator. I chose the most covered one - white silk nightdress, long sleeves, long till knees, not sexy. Simple.

I washed face, brushed hair, tried to make swollen cheek look less red with cold water. Put on white nightdress. It was soft, expensive, but I felt naked in it because it was his choice.

At 10:30 sharp, knock. Guard in black suit.

"Mrs. Black, Master is waiting in West Wing."

I followed him through long dark hallway connecting East to West. The hallway was cold, no lights, only small lamps. West Wing was different from East. Dark. Black marble floors, black walls, huge black bed in center, glass windows from floor to ceiling showing city lights. Office attached with big desk, laptops, papers. Smell of him - dark cologne, whiskey, cold expensive.

Ethan was there. In black pajama pants, no shirt.

I stopped breathing.

His body was... God. Broad shoulders, chest hard like stone, abs with lines, V-line disappearing into pants, arms with veins. Back had small scars, old, faded. He was pouring whiskey at bar, back to me, did not look.

"You are late," he said, voice low.

"I was not told to be early."

He turned. Grey eyes went from my face to my white dress to my bare feet. He stared for a second too long. Grey eyes darkened, became storm.

"Who told you to wear white?" His voice was hoarse, different.

"No one. It was in closet. Only one that covers me. Others are transparent."

"Take it off."

"What?!"

"Take it off and wear black. I hate white."

I clenched fists, ice towel still in hand. "No! This is only one that is not half-naked! You bought those dresses! Not me!"

"I bought them for my wife. Not for incubator who wants to act innocent."

"Then buy me proper clothes! I am not going to wear something that shows everything for your spy maid!"

He walked towards me, slow, whiskey glass in hand. Stopped inches away. I could see water droplets on his chest. He just showered. I could smell whiskey and his skin.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Aria?" he whispered, looking down at me, grey eyes burning, voice low and dangerous. "White dress, innocent face, red cheek from fight? Is this your plan? Fall in love with billionaire and get more than $2 Million? Many girls tried. All failed."

"Never!" I said, angry, pushing his chest but he did not move, hard like wall. "I would never seduce a man who calls me rented womb and property and defective goods!"

"Good," he said, but his eyes stayed on my lips, then on my neck, then back to my eyes. "Because I don't sleep with women I pity. And I pity you right now. $42 in account, mother dying, no home. You are easy to pity."

His words hurt, but his eyes were not pity. They were something else. Something hot and cold at same time.

He went to closet and threw black silk robe at me.

"Wear this over it. And come here."

I wore black robe, tied tight, covering white dress completely.

He pointed to huge black bed.

"You sleep on bed. I sleep in study on couch. At 11 PM, Rosa will come to bring warm milk, like she always does for 20 years. She will see you in my bed. She will report to old Master that we share room. Tomorrow at 7 PM, old Master comes for dinner. You will act like you love me. You will hold my hand, laugh at my jokes, kiss my cheek when he looks. You will be perfect wife. If you do well, I add $10,000 to your mother's after-care fund. If you fail, I stop payment tonight and move her to general ward. Clear?"

"Clear," I whispered, hating him for using my mother.

"And one more rule," he stepped closer again. His hand lifted. For a second I thought he would slap me too. I flinched.

He stopped. His grey eyes saw my flinch. Something changed in his face. Anger, but not at me.

Slowly, so slowly it shocked me, he touched my swollen cheek with cold fingers. Very gentle. So gentle it was opposite of his cruel words. His fingers were cold but touch was soft.

"Don't ever flinch like that in front of me again," he said, voice low. "I don't hit women. Never. And don't ever let anyone slap you again. You are Mrs. Black now. Even if contract. No one touches you. Only I get to..."

He stopped. Realized what he almost said. Jaw tightened. He pulled hand away like it burned him.

"Only I get to decide your punishment. Not Vanessa. Understand?"

I nodded, heart racing from his touch. Cheek where he touched felt more burning than slap, but different burning.

He turned away, picked whiskey, drank in one go.

"Go to bed. Rosa comes in 10 minutes."

I climbed into huge black bed. Sheets smelled like him. Dark cologne. Cold but somehow warm.

He switched off main light, only small lamp on. He sat in study, on couch, with laptop, typing, like I was not in his bed.

At 11 PM sharp, door opened quietly. Old woman, maybe 70, short, grey hair in bun, came in with a tray Rosa. Old Master's spy.

She saw me in bed, saw Ethan on couch with laptop, frowned.

"Master Ethan, why you on couch? You should be with wife. Old Master said new couple should be together."

Ethan looked up. "My wife snores. I work."

I almost laughed.

Rosa looked at me, at my red cheek. "Mrs. Black, what happened to your cheek?"

Before I could answer, Ethan said, "She fell. Clumsy. She is always clumsy."

Fell. He lied for me. To protect me from Vanessa? Or to protect business?

Rosa nodded, but eyes suspicious. She put milk on bedside table near me.

"Drink milk, Mrs. Black. Good for health. Good for baby. Old Master wants great-grandson soon."

Baby. Everyone talked about baby I did not yet have. Baby I must give away after birth.

She left, door clicking.

Silence again. Only city lights from window and sound of Ethan typing.

I could not sleep. My cheek throbbed, my mind raced. Tomorrow I meet grandfather who will test if our love is real. Vanessa will come back for revenge. And I am sleeping in same room with a man who calls me rented womb but touches my cheek like I am fragile glass.

"Ethan?" I whispered after long time.

"What?"

"Why do you have scars on your back?"

Typing stopped. Room went dead silent.

"Go to sleep, Aria," his voice was ice. "You ask too many questions for a contract wife. Rule number one of being Mrs. Black - don't ask about my past. Rule number two - don't fall in love with me. Because I will never love you back."

He switched off his lamp, room dark, only city lights.

I turned away, tears silent, holding black robe tight, and whispered to myself so he would not hear.

But my heart was beating too fast for a woman who would never fall in love.