The Billionaire Contract

Too Close for Comfort

After that night in the car, I told myself I would get a grip.

I had to.

Because whatever was happening between Ethan and me was starting to feel way too real for something that had an expiration date.

The next morning, I woke up in his apartment before he did.

That alone felt strange.

I stood in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee I didn’t even remember making, staring out at the city like I belonged there. Like this was my life.

It wasn’t.

This was temporary.

So why was I getting comfortable?

“You’re up early.”

His voice came from behind me. Calm. Deep. Still half-asleep.

I turned slightly. He was standing there in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, no billionaire energy, no CEO posture. Just… Ethan.

And that somehow made things worse.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said.

“Me neither.”

There was a pause. A soft one. The kind that wasn’t awkward but wasn’t safe either.

We stood there way too close, pretending the air between us wasn’t thick with everything we weren’t saying.

“About last night…” I started.

He cut in gently. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

That should have been a relief.

It wasn’t.

“I think we should,” I said.

He looked at me properly then. Not distracted. Not guarded.

“Okay,” he said. “Talk.”

I swallowed. “This thing we’re doing. It’s starting to feel less fake.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “It’s supposed to.”

“No,” I said quickly. “It’s supposed to look real. Not feel real.”

Silence.

Then he said, “And does it feel real to you?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Because the answer was obvious.

“Yes.”

The word hung between us.

Ethan exhaled slowly. “That makes two of us.”

My heart skipped. Actually skipped.

“That’s not good,” I whispered.

He gave a small, tired smile. “No. It’s not.”

We were standing inches apart now. I could see the tiny scar on his eyebrow. The way his eyes softened when he wasn’t trying to be in control.

“You know this ends, right?” I said.

“In six months,” he replied. “Yes.”

“And after that?”

He didn’t answer.

That scared me more than anything.

Later that day, we had another event. A private dinner with investors. Nothing flashy. Just expensive people and quiet conversations.

I played my role like usual. Smiled. Laughed. Held his hand.

But this time, every touch felt heavier.

More intentional.

At one point, someone asked if we were planning to move in together officially.

Ethan answered without thinking. “We already have.”

The table went quiet.

I turned to him. “We what?”

He looked just as surprised by his own words.

“I mean— we basically live together,” he said quickly. “It’s easier that way.”

Everyone laughed it off.

I didn’t.

That night, back in the apartment, I confronted him.

“You can’t just say things like that,” I said.

“Like what?”

“Like we’re actually a real couple.”

He looked at me. “What are we, Ava?”

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it.

Because I didn’t know anymore.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “And that’s the problem.”

He stepped closer. Not touching. Just close enough to make my heart misbehave.

“I’m trying not to cross lines,” he said quietly. “But you make it hard.”

I laughed nervously. “Wow. Billionaire problems.”

He smiled. Then it faded.

“I meant emotionally.”

That did it.

That one word.

Emotionally.

I felt something shift inside me. Something dangerous. Something honest.

“We’re not supposed to feel this,” I said.

“I know.”

“So why do we?”

He looked at me like the answer was simple.

“Because we’re human.”

The room went quiet again.

And for the first time since signing that contract, I realized something terrifying:

The real risk was no longer the contract.

It was what would happen when it ended.

Because somewhere between pretending and public appearances…

I had started falling for him.

And I wasn’t sure he wasn’t doing the same.